The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(40)

He’d never met Garrity, but he knew his sisters did not approve of their friend’s match. According to them, Garrity was a shady character, and they bemoaned the fact that they’d seen little of Gabriella since her marriage.

“Garrity is the Duke of the City,” Tessa murmured. “He’s a moneylender, and men from all strata of society are indebted to him.”

“Make me a duke,” Todd said suddenly. “With John Randolph dead, you need someone to take over Covent Garden. Give me that territory, and I’ll stand with you against all your enemies. I’ll mount an attack on O’Toole, Knight, and Garrity.”

“These ain’t men to cross, you stupid bastard,” Black growled. “Which is why I ’aven’t made my move yet. Got to ’ave evidence before I strike back. As to your allegiance, I gave you my Mavis. Made you part o’ my family. Ain’t your fealty already sworn to me?”

“Yes, o’ course. I just meant—”

“I know what you meant.” Steely warning threaded Black’s voice. “I ain’t making no decisions about Covent Garden until my enemies are vanquished. If you want a dukedom, then you’d best show yourself useful.”

“What do you want me to do?” Todd said sulkily.

“Give Ming your best men. ’E’s got a watch on the three bastards and could use extra sets o’ eyes and ears.” Black paused. “Whoe’er is behind this will feel the fire of my vengeance: ’e’ll pay for what ’e did to my guards this night. And to those under my protection at The Gilded Pearl.”

The truth plowed into Harry. Black had been protecting the bawdy house. The medallion found on the victim had been a symbol of his protection…just as Tessa had claimed.

“This enemy not fight with fire, Mr. Black,” Ming said somberly. “He use hellfire.”

“’Ellfire?” Todd let out a derisive laugh. “Your Chinaman’s got a screw loose.”

“Between you and Ming, one man knows what e’s talking about, and it ain’t you.” Disgust dripped from Black’s voice. “’Ellfire is what we’re calling this shite on my desk. Ming found the same bloody stuff at The Pearl.”

“Found one device not blow,” Ming clarified. “Same material inside.”

“Don’t know ’ow this shite is made, but it’s twice as powerful as gunpowder. Ming and I tested it.” Black’s voice was stark. “Stuff burns cleanly and through everything in its path. If Bennett ’adn’t stopped those buggers from lighting more tonight, they would’ve razed this place. Just like they did The Pearl.”

Harry’s gut coiled. All the properties Black described were those of the explosive material he’d accidentally created in his laboratory. The one that had been stolen from him by fellow scientist Aloysius De Witt, Celeste’s father.

“I can keep track o’ gunpowder by tracking its components. No sales o’ saltpeter ’appen in the underworld without my knowing. But this ’ellfire is different,” Black said grimly. “We don’t know its ingredients. Some bastard might be making it right beneath our noses.”

Harry swallowed, thinking of the volatile compound he’d produced out of nitric acid, oil of vitriol, and cotton. When Aloysius De Witt had learned about Harry’s discovery, he’d wanted to produce and sell it for industrial purposes. Harry had argued that the substance, which he’d named “explosive cotton,” was too volatile and dangerous to market.

De Witt had proposed a partnership. He’d funded Harry’s attempts to produce a safer product, but then he’d grown impatient. Even though the explosive cotton wasn’t ready, he’d insisted that it was time to bring it to investors.

Harry had refused, and his decision had cost him his future. Yet his shattered ambitions paled in comparison to the present threat. Had De Witt managed to stabilize the compound? Had he turned it into a useable weapon of destruction?

“On top o’ all this, the Peelers are bloody thorns in my side,” Black raged on. “Their spies are everywhere, so watch your backs.”

“I ain’t afraid o’ the police,” Todd scoffed. “I’ll slit the throat o’ any spy that dares set foot in my ’ouse.”

“No, you’ll bring ’im to me.” Black’s decree was cold, as final as death.

Harry’s pulse thudded. Obviously, revealing his identity was not an option.

Beside him, Tessa gave a start. She scrambled to cover up the peephole.

“Grandfather was walking toward the squint,” she said urgently. “He might have seen it.”

Wordlessly, Harry shoved the books back in place. Tessa ducked her head out in the hallway, looking this way and that before gesturing to him. Numbly, he followed her down the empty corridor and up the stairs, his mind consumed by all he’d learned.

By hellfire…which he might have inadvertently unleashed on the world.





14





Filled with agitated energy, Tessa entered her sitting room. She dismissed Lizzie, who’d been tidying up her watercolors. The lady’s maid pointedly left the door wide open, and Tessa didn’t gainsay her. If Grandpapa stopped by, the closed door would rouse his suspicions. Despite the less than private situation, Tessa was determined to gain clarity on two points.