The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(46)

He thought of their visit this morning to the families of the fallen guards. Of Tessa’s unexpected maturity and grace as she consoled the grieving widows. Afterward, she’d spent time with the children, passing out the treats she’d brought and having Swift Nick perform tricks to entertain them. For a short while, she’d succeeded in easing some of the pain from those small faces.

That her bright spirit could touch others shouldn’t have come as a surprise. After all, her light touched him too. Just thinking of her impish smile spread warmth through his gut.

“As much as I hate to point this out, I fear I must. You are one of the most intelligent men I know, Harry. When it comes to females, however…”

Clearing his throat, Ambrose didn’t finish. Didn’t have to.

The past had proved that Harry’s judgement when it came to the opposite sex was far from sound. Forced to question himself now, he couldn’t deny that Tessa did have traits in common with Celeste. The main ones being her ability to trick and, aye, manipulate—he thought of their first blistering kiss—to achieve her end.

Yet he told himself that she was not Celeste. She was loyal and fierce and feisty: Celeste had been none of those things. Moreover, he wasn’t the green lad he’d once been. While he desired Tessa, he wouldn’t offer her, or any woman, his heart on a silver platter. He wouldn’t lose control of his heart or head again.

“I learned my lesson the last time,” he said shortly.

“Well, I’m glad we are discussing the matter instead of you brooding in isolation like you did before.” Ambrose leaned forward. “Lad, I want what’s best for you. And I’m telling you this Tessa Todd is nothing but trouble.”

Harry couldn’t help but raise a sardonic brow. “Are you saying you’ve never been attracted to a woman who promised trouble?”

Ambrose’s cheekbones turned ruddy. “That was a different situation entirely.”

“As I recall, Marianne was a suspect you were investigating.”

“Touché.” Sighing, Ambrose held up a hand. “If you won’t be swayed, how can I help?”

“I need you to look into De Witt’s financials. To see if money could be a motive for him.”

“Done.” His brother paused. “What about his laboratory? How are you planning to find it?”

“I’ve watched De Witt for the last two nights. His schedule was the same: he goes to some ton event, then spends the rest of the night gambling at Crockford’s. Tonight, while he’s out, I’m going to search his house.”



* * *



Harry parted from his brother with a revised plan. Ambrose had convinced him to hold off the search of De Witt’s home until tomorrow, so that Ambrose could gather reinforcements. Thus, Harry now found himself with some unexpected time. Recalling an errand, he stopped briefly at his room before heading to another destination.

Upon arriving at The Underworld, he saw a long line of patrons snaking out the front door. He took the back entrance and asked for Pretty Francie. A few minutes later, the bawd emerged, dressed for work in a low-cut purple gown, a matching feather in her auburn hair.

“Mr. Bennett.” Curiosity sharpened her painted features. “Weren’t expectin’ you.”

“Pardon the intrusion.” Bowing, Harry proffered the reason for his visit. “I’m making good on my promise to return Miss Belinda’s cloak.”

“That’s thoughtful o’ you.” She took the garment. “Not many coves would remember such a trifle.”

He thought wistfully of his favorite pair of boots, the ones Tessa had ruined with honey, and he muttered, “It’s not a trifle if it’s one’s favorite.”

“True enough.” Francie’s expression turned grave. “Ow’s Tessa faring since the attack?”

This time around, Black hadn’t managed to suppress the gossip about the attack on his home. Tongues wagged in the underworld as much as in any ton ballroom. The only thing Black had managed to quash were the details concerning the weapon used in the assault. Hellfire remained a secret.

“She’s fine, but she won’t be returning here in the foreseeable future.” Harry didn’t wish to be unkind, but he needed Tessa’s friends to understand what was at stake. “I cannot allow her to compromise her safety.”

Rather than offended, the madam seemed relieved. “’Bout time someone looked after that girl.”

“That’s why Mr. Black hired me. I’ll do my best to keep a rein on her.”

“Our Tessa don’t need no reins.” Francie snorted. “What she needs is understanding. Much as ’er grandfather dotes upon ’er, ’e don’t understand ’er.”

Unable to help himself, Harry said, “What doesn’t he understand?”

The bawd turned assessing eyes upon him. “You care about ’er?”

“She is my charge,” he said stiffly. “Her wellbeing is my responsibility.”

“That’s all she is to you, then? A responsibility?”

Faced with those unblinking eyes, Harry found he couldn’t lie. He said nothing, and Francie must have read the truth in his silence for she gave a satisfied nod.

“The thing you got to know ’bout Tessa is that she does things for a reason. Now that reason ain’t always clear—bit o’ a trickster, that one—but she ain’t a spoilt brat like you think.”