What the Dashing Duke Deserves (Lords of Happenstance, #3) Read online

  He grinned, which made him devastatingly handsome, even with the horrid pomade in his hair and the shadows that clung to him. “How fortuitous, our meeting again, don’t you think?”

  “That depends on the perspective.” Why wouldn’t the man just let her go? She pointed the nose of her pistol at him. If he wouldn’t take the hint, perhaps a mild flesh wound would provide incentive. “Release me at once. I don’t wish to shoot you, but I will, now that you’ve provoked me.”

  “Ah, then by all means, let us continue the discussion. I’ve never been shot before, but I’ve known those who have.” He eyed the weapon with a mix of amusement and wariness. “Since when do you carry a pistol?”

  “Since circumstances have made it necessary.” He didn’t need to know the whys and wherefores. Not until she could trust him. “Now, let me go. It’s imperative. I have business to attend this night.”

  “Yes, you do. With me.” Using his free hand, he urged the gun down until it no longer pointed at his heart. “I cannot let you vanish into the night, and you know why.”

  Oh, but he was infuriating. “The ushabti.” When he nodded, his eyes glittering in the low light, she sighed. “Again, it’s mine. I simply took it back.”

  “How do I know what you say is the truth?” The rumble of his voice through the shadows and the proximity of his body to hers sent a thrill careening down her spine. Despite his dogged belief that the antiquity she’d stolen be returned to the museum, she was glad for his company. Cairo after dark, while manageable when well-armed, played with one’s mind.

  “How do you know it’s not?” Juliana tugged at his hold, but he remained stuck to her like a rusty manacle.

  His gaze found hers in the shadows. “You have never been a thief before. People don’t change that much with no reason.”

  Why did they have to share a prior association? It made for a rather sticky situation, and seeing him reminded of her what she could never have. What to do? With a sigh, she pocketed the pistol, but Crispin still held her wrist. “Being a thief is a necessity,” she finally admitted. Her gaze fell to his mouth, and the memory of those sensuous lips pressed against hers in that fleeting kiss popped into her mind. Perhaps at some other time, if she wasn’t fighting for so many—vital—things, and if they were back in London...

  But no. It was folly to think such thoughts. Even if life was perfect, even if she didn’t carry around the heavy sins of her past, she wouldn’t choose romance, not when the possibility of adventure could be had or returning to respectability, if she was ever given the option to choose.

  “I can understand that. Which begs the question of why? Your clothing is of the latest style and the cloth is fairly expensive. This says you aren’t desperate for coin.”

  If only you knew. “I might be.”

  “Perhaps.” He nodded. “Let’s put that to the side for the moment.” He’d adopted a conversational tone as if they stood chatting in a drawing room instead of a questionable alley in Cairo. “Did you do it for the thrill, the challenge? If so, why take a lowly ushabti when there were much more valuable antiquities in the offing?”

  “This isn’t the treasure I’m after,” she said in a quiet voice.

  “Ah, so there is a treasure at play.” He fairly hooted with surprise. “Could I persuade you to tell me about that?”

  “No.” She couldn’t involve him in her mess.

  “Then if the ushabti isn’t valuable, why did you take it?”

  Obviously, she’d underestimated him, for the man was sharp and intelligent. Juliana tugged at her arm, but he didn’t release her. “The ushabti was the one antiquity I wanted, for as I’ve told you numerous times already, it belongs to me.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  The man was impossible and the conversation was getting them nowhere. The time for her appointment was slipping by. If she missed her contact, the possibility of making another meet became more difficult. “Leave it alone, Crispin. This is bigger than you.”

  “So you said before.”

  “It bears repeating.” She found his gaze in the darkness. Questions lingered in his brown depths. “I beg of you, for the sake of our previous association, let me go and forget about me.”

  “I don’t know if I can do that, but it’s heartening to know you do remember me.” He chuckled and the rich sound reverberated in her chest. “I wasn’t certain.” For a man standing in the shadows, waylaying a woman, he was terribly jovial. “That kiss in the museum aside, you’ve been quite cavalier about everything.”

  “For good reason, Mr. Herrick.” She left off with the struggle to free herself.

  “By the by, since last we met, I’ve become a duke.” His laugh was fleeting and self-conscious. “The Duke of Litton, actually, among other things.”

  “Oh?” Juliana lifted her eyebrows in surprise. “You’re a duke?” She lowered her voice. “It would be best if you didn’t bandy such information about after dark, especially here. Plenty of unsavory characters would use that information to their advantage.” When he nodded, she continued, “How did that happen? From what I knew of your family, they weren’t that well connected.”

  “It is a long story, and not one I’m inclined to relate right now.” Some of the levity had faded from his voice.

  “Fair enough.” But it smacked of an intrigue she suddenly wished to uncover. She bit the inside of her lip while she thought. “Even here, far from London, I remember that title shrouded with horrid rumors of dark things.”

  “Unfortunately, you’re not wrong.” His grip tightened slightly. “I am trying to make amends for that.”

  “Yet you had nothing to do with any of those crimes or ills of your predecessor.” What kind of man was he? “You would clean up another man’s mess.” It boggled the mind.

  “Someone must.” He shrugged. “I have a responsibility to the title, and if it takes the whole of my lifetime, it’s something I must do.”

  “A noble and lofty goal. As well as impressive.” What was a man like him doing in Cairo then, a city run by criminals posing as wealthy gentleman, and equally black-hearted thieves intent on raping tombs to make a fortune in the illegal antiquities trade? Or any other number of horrors found in the old city after dark. His shining self didn’t fit in, but she had to know all the more. “Why are you in Egypt?”

  Instead of releasing her, he took her hand and threaded it through his crooked elbow. “Being a duke has afforded me certain privileges and more,” he dropped his voice low, “coin than I can comfortably use,” he began as he set them into motion in the opposite direction of where she needed to go. “There are only so many charitable efforts I can support before the need to do something hands-on swamps me.”

  Another layer added to his mystique. Yet lingering with him was hindering her mission. “Crispin, I really have—”

  “Whatever it is can wait, and if it’s as important as you say, it can reschedule for a daylight meeting. The streets of Cairo after dark are no place for a lady.” His tone brooked no argument, which was odd, for he’d never been the forceful type.

  If he knew what she’d already done, he’d gladly give her up to the demons of Cairo. Juliana sighed. “Do you think you’re my protector?” She easily kept stride with him as they exited the alley. As aggravating as his high-handedness was, it pleased her nonetheless that he cared.

  “It is my duty as a gentleman, and for our prior friendship, I’m honor bound to see that you reach your home unmolested.”

  How could she maintain her annoyance with him after that answer? It had been ever so long since someone had wished to look after her, and even longer since she hadn’t been on her own or embroiled in intrigue. “Well, thank you. But that doesn’t explain why you’re in this country.”

  “Ah, right.” He chuckled. “I always find myself distracted with random bits of information. There is so much to learn about everywhere I go, and even more knowledge I wish to acquire.” They gained the main thoroughfare of the ma
rketplace and headed toward the entrance gates. “In any event, I am funding a dig in the King’s Valley for a chum and his wife.”

  “Why are you not there? It is quite far from here.” Though she’d been in Egypt for over a year, she’d not managed to see many sites. To date, her favorite was the Giza plateau, which was easy for her to access. What must that vast plain of sand in the valley backed by hills and cliffs look like dotted with hidden tombs and gaping ones already found?

  “Archewyne and I have business to attend here in Cairo before setting off.” His voice, warm and animated, flowed over her in soothing waves, but she didn’t recognize the name. “In fact, we had spent time in the valley right after arrival in this country, and that’s where the rest of the party and workers are now, but circumstances dictated we come back here for a few nights.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Circumstances. Which is to say there are matters you’re not at liberty to tell me.”

  “It seems we both have secrets.” But there was a smile in his voice. “When you tell me one of yours, I’ll reveal one of mine.”

  “I cannot.” She remained silent, but the urge to hear his voice nagged. “Yet you aren’t attending to those... circumstances by escorting me.”

  “Dawdling in the souk with you is infinitely more exciting.” He patted her hand. Was it due to the slight tightening of her fingers on his arm that she was hardly aware of? Regardless, her heartbeat accelerated. “Which brings me to my next question. Why are you in Cairo?”

  How to answer him without ripping open the wounds whose scabs were holding her life together? Best keep the explanation as simple and as close to the truth as possible. “My father needed me.”

  “Your father, Viscount Kendall? Or someone who is part of the make believe world you’re playing at, the world in which you’ve had to change your hair color as well as your name and relocate to a city flung halfway across the world?” he asked in a barely-there voice but kept his focus on navigating the crowds.

  Drat the man. His natural curiosity would see him hurt or killed if he wasn’t careful, and the longer he was in her company, the greater the danger to him. Her life in England seemed so far away, and her chest tightened with longing. What she wouldn’t give to sit in a garden with a book or merely indulge in daydreaming. She’d had no contact with her family since being sent to Cairo. Lord only knew what they thought, if they did at all after the embarrassment—the grief—she’d caused.

  And it was her own fault.

  “It is... complicated.” There was no other explanation.

  “Which means you don’t know where to begin.” He chuckled and soon enough they passed through the entry gate and onto the street. People rushed past them, for the dinner hour grew near, and no good walked the night after a certain time. “For what it’s worth, I’m extending you a friendly ear if you wish to talk. Please know I will not exploit our prior association. I merely wish to help.”

  “Thank you.” That attitude, while swoon-worthy and almost romantic, would find him at the mercy of criminals. This country would toughen him up faster than he’d like, and that would be the real crime. She didn’t wish him hardened like so many others. Long moments passed, marked by the frantic beating of her heart. “I cannot tell you anything here.”

  “Agreed.” He nodded. “Where, then?”

  “Tomorrow night, my father is having a small dinner party. Please come.”

  “Location?”

  She forced a swallow into her dry throat. “The ambassador’s house, two streets over from the museum. He and I keep an apartment over the official rooms.”

  “Then that is where I shall be, and if you don’t keep your promise, I’ll summon the authorities in regard to the little issue of you pinching the artifact.”

  “Done.” If she could lead the conversation, perhaps distract him enough that he’d forget about his line of inquiry, she’d be able to survive long enough until he left for the King’s Valley. Then she’d resume her mission.

  And forget about him.

  Chapter Three

  October 25, 1822

  Crispin was unaccountably cheerful over breakfast. Though the meeting with Juliana last night hadn’t netted him the results he’d wished, there was still time to convince her to do the right thing and return the artifact to the museum. Plus, the prospect of seeing her tonight had lifted his spirits from the ennui he’d fallen into.

  Tomorrow, they’d set off for the Valley of the Kings—or rather Archewyne House, which was an accidental boon. They’d discovered it upon arrival in Cairo when the expedition foreman had met them at the docks in Alexandria. Having the house, a modified hunting lodge really, would cut down on the necessity of having to sleep in or around the dig site, and that meant everyone would remain well-rested each morning. Not to mention, it was deuced easier to prepare food and enjoy the creature comforts he’d come to expect from life.

  When the earl strode into the breakfast room at St. Ives’ manor house, Crispin launched from his chair. “How do you fare this morning, Archewyne?” He took his empty plate to the sideboard and generously filled it up a second time, for being in Cairo had made his appetite quite hearty.

  The earl grunted. His raven hair had the look of being hastily combed, but his clothing and bearing was as impeccable as if he’d just stepped from his London townhouse instead of needing to fight with mosquito netting or the heat even at such an early hour. No doubt his man Hudson had insisted the earl was well-rigged out. Not that Crispin blamed him. His own valet, Neilson, had made it a point to dress him as if he went to meet the damned king himself, even after Crispin had told him a dig in the desert sands was a rather informal affair.

  “That good, eh?” he asked, merely as a way to introduce conversation, for he’d risen before dawn. Excitement had kept him awake for a good portion of the night.

  “I am well but anxious to return to my dig and my wife and family.” It was a well-known fact among the other King’s agents that Archewyne didn’t tolerate mornings well, and especially when he was separated from his countess. Strain and worry lined his face, and in that instant, before he took a deep drink of his coffee, the man looked every inch his age and his position. “I didn’t want to leave them, but Emmaline insisted it was far easier to remain at Archewyne House and keep the children occupied and herself rested than dragging the whole damned entourage to Cairo and back.”

  A grin curved Crispin’s lips. The man was predictable. As he returned to his seat, he said, “I’ll wager you do, and if you don’t mind me saying so, your wife is an intelligent woman. She no doubt knows best.”

  That provoked a slight grin from the earl. He murmured his thanks to the older man who brought over the plate of food. “It seems my wife has accumulated another admirer.” He took up his knife and fork, and then tucked into his meal.

  “And why shouldn’t she? The countess is quite fearless and head strong. She’s everything wonderful in this world.”

  “Do shut up, Your Grace. I’d hate to land you a facer before I even finish breakfast,” the earl grumbled.

  Wisely, Crispin kept his own counsel even though, as a duke, it was his prerogative to speak candidly on any subject he wished. But he didn’t throw his title up to anyone and he certainly didn’t use it to bully or intimidate. Besides, there was no such formality between him or the earl. In fact, he insisted that they maintain the old friendship above rank.

  “I beg your pardon, Archewyne. I’ll leave you to your meal in peace.” His mind lingered on the Hawkins’ storied life over the past two years—insofar as much as he knew of it since meeting them both before that fateful trip to France. The earl and his wife had a knack at taking cases and missions that seemed bizarre at first but always had a decidedly sinister edge. In private circles, they were known as the Thieves of the Ton. To put it bluntly, they sought out and hunted down relics of power, wealth, or potential danger that others meant to use against England and her interests, even stole them from dodgy people if ne
eded. On occasion, they retrieved missing persons with ties to the Crown or peers. Keeping everyone safe was paramount, but then, that was part and parcel of the fun of being a King’s agent, and Crispin thanked fortune, fate, and God daily that his path had taken him to Archewyne’s door and into the King’s agent fold. It had changed his life at a time when he struggled with the weight and marred responsibility of the Litton name.

  His thoughts shifted to Juliana. She’d be a terrific treasure hunting partner, even if she seemed somewhat haunted and driven. That was, if she’d dig deep into her integrity and not run to stealing the antiquities or relics before giving them over to the proper people.

  He burned to know her story, and he meant to have it this evening over dinner. Crispin stole a glance at the earl, whose attention was on a copy of The Times that was at least a month old. Now that Archewyne was in charge of the King’s agents—he’d taken over the hole the Duke of Rathesborne had left upon his death—every man and woman with the network knew of his number one cardinal rule—mission before romance.

  Crispin shoveled in another few forkfuls of food. Did he wish for a romance with Juliana? Easy answer: no, he did not. Or, at least, not at this time. There were too many things pulling at his attention, and he wished to make amends to all the people the previous Duke of Litton had hurt. That took precedence. As did the upcoming dig season with the earl. More difficult answer: he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge to himself that having a companion along for the adventure was welcome. And there was the heat between he and Juliana whenever they met, except this last time when he’d been more concerned about the artifact.

  Telling or mere diversion? He couldn’t say.

  The butler, who insisted on wearing the Archewyne livery even in such a faraway location as Cairo, came forward to refill the earl’s coffee cup. Crispin cocked his head to one side. “You know, Alfred, you can relax the dress code. Archewyne won’t mind.”