The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(24)

The last words left him in a roar, shocking him. He was known for calm, measured discourse. He didn’t shout, especially not at a female.

Miss Todd had the temerity to roll her eyes at him. “I can take care of myself.”

“How?” he shot back. “How, precisely, would you fight off a man’s advances?”

“With these.” She bent, and he blinked as she removed a dagger from each boot. With blithe expertise, she juggled the small cloisonné-handled knives in the air.

“Where in blazes did you get those?” Harry asked in disbelief.

“Ming. He trained me, too. My aim is excellent.”

Her underlying (and rather immodest) threat was clear. Jaw clenching, Harry was contemplating hauling her out over his shoulder when the redheaded wench came to her side. She was older than the others, a handsome woman with a hardened mien.

At her nudge, Miss Todd sighed…but she caught her blades, tucking them back into her boots.

The redhead addressed him. “I’m Pretty Francie, the madam of the club. Tessa’s safe ’ere. We keep an eye out for ’er, and she uses the ’idden corridors so none o’ the patrons see ’er.”

“I am obliged to you, Miss Francie, for looking out for my charge,” he said curtly. “Nonetheless, this is no place for a young lady. The fact that she has been allowed to run amok for so long is a disgrace.”

To his surprise, the madam gave a slight nod, her expression rueful.

“Ignore Bennett,” Miss Todd burst out. “He’s an overbearing prig—”

“It is not only my opinion that your behavior needs reforming, but also that of your grandfather.”

Harry’s deliberate evoking of Bartholomew Black did the trick.

The madam put a hand on Miss Todd’s shoulder.

“You’d best go wiv ’im, luvie,” she said quietly.

Miss Todd’s shoulders slumped a little, and she gave her friend an oddly hurt look.

Spotting a long black cape hanging on the wall, Harry said, “May Miss Todd borrow that?”

“O’ course.” The blonde wench went to fetch it.

She returned, and, up close, he saw the fading bruises on her face. When he reached to take the garment from her, she flinched instinctively, confirming his suspicions. His chest tightened. There was nothing more despicable, more cowardly, than a man who’d hit a woman.

Slowly, he turned his hand over, palm up, waiting for her to give him the cloak.

“Thank you, miss,” he said gently when she did.

“Oh…you’re welcome. You can call me Belinda.” She twirled a blonde curl around her finger and gave him a hesitant smile.

He inclined his head, then turned to Miss Todd. “Put this on.”

She scowled at him. “I’m not taking Belinda’s best cloak.”

“I’ll see that it’s returned. You cannot prance about in those indecent trousers,” he snapped. “Put on the bloody cape, or I’ll put it on for you.”

She hesitated, and he had a fiendish desire for her to disobey him. Just try me.

She snatched the garment. Knotted the strings and glared at him. “Satisfied?”

“Not until you’re safely home.” He pointed to the door. “To the hidden corridor. Now.”

She bent to scoop up her ferret. Exchanging swift goodbyes with her friends, she marched out into the hallway. Approaching the paneled wall, she pressed down on a section of the plaster molding. The panel swung open, revealing a corridor behind the walls.

She entered, swiveling to say smartly, “Don’t forget to close the panel behind you.”

He bit back a retort. Once inside, he shut the panel, cloaking them in dimness. He followed her through the cramped passageway. As he bent his head to avoid hitting the ceiling, a visceral memory struck him: of rock crashing down all around. Of being trapped in suffocating darkness. The old panic sparked, his heart racing, palms going clammy…

“Blood and thunder, this isn’t a stroll through Hyde Park.” Miss Todd’s tart voice jerked him out of the memory. “Stop dawdling and hurry up.”

He didn’t know whether to be relieved or exasperated by the distraction. Either way, the panic receded. He sped up, her scent reaching him through the gloom, the fresh sweetness banishing the lingering, acrid traces of gunpowder and cindered earth. In truth, her feminine fragrance had been teasing him for days, a mysterious alchemy of perfume, soap, and…her.

They headed down steps and continued their way on the lower floor. She halted, and he did the same, his nose inches from the top of her head. Her essence filled his nostrils, clean and vibrant and heady. He couldn’t stop himself from inhaling deeply.

“Why are we stopping?” he murmured.

“Shh. I think I hear someone coming.”

He strained, listening. The sounds were faint at first…footsteps? Thump, thump, thump. Accompanying voices grew louder, taking the shape of words.

“Ooo, you’re so big and ’ard,” a female voice moaned.

“Like my cock, do you? Then take it deep in your cunny!”

Sweat misted on Harry’s forehead as groans escalated along with the thumping, clearly not from boots against the floor…but bodies on a mattress.

Someone was coming. Just not the way Miss Todd had imagined.