The Duke Identity (Game of Dukes #1)(63)

Harry thought it prudent not to share how he’d brought about Tessa’s dreamy-eyed, glowing acquiescence. As for the dressmaker, he knew she was going along with it because of the bargain she’d struck with her grandfather. She wanted Black to have Harry’s protection, and her loyalty and love overrode everything else.

He suspected there was one additional motivation for her attending the masquerade: the invitation she’d found at De Witt’s. Harry had lectured her not to approach the De Witts if they showed up, and her ready agreement hadn’t been at all convincing. One more thing he’d have to keep an eye on. Luckily, the event would be a masquerade, allowing him to attend incognito.

“I’ve worked no miracles,” he said carefully. “She’s an exceptional young lady.”

“Exceptional is one way o’ putting it.” Black slurped his coffee. “Must say I don’t mind ’aving someone else deal with ’er antics.”

“Miss Todd means well. She’s loyal and wants to do her family proud.” The words left him before he could think twice.

Black’s eyes narrowed. “Know my granddaughter well, do you?”

Including in a biblical sense. “I know she has many fine qualities.”

“That she does. Now, Bennett, a gel like that, she’s worth protecting, ain’t she?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And, when the time comes, if I can’t be there, I can count on you to take care o’ ’er?”

He frowned. “Why wouldn’t you be there?”

“Ain’t saying I won’t, but got to plan for hypotheticals.” Black leaned forward, his voice low, strangely pressured. “After ’ow you ’andled the ’ellfire attack, I know I can trust you. If the need arises, I want you to keep Tessie safe. You got a place to stow ’er?”

“Pardon?” Chilly premonition gripped his nape.

“If anything were to ’appen to me, you got a safe place you can take ’er? Beyond London. Somewhere my enemies wouldn’t know to go.”

Harry immediately thought of Chudleigh Crest, the sleepy village in Berkshire where he and his siblings had grown up. “Yes, I know a place.”

“Keep it to yourself. Tell no one, not even me. And if the day comes when you need to take Tessie there,”—urgency blazed in Black’s gaze—“you go and await instruction. Understand?”

“Yes.” He didn’t know what else to say. He would protect Tessa with his life.

“Good.” Black leaned back, his expression wiping clean. “Company’s arrived.”

Harry rose as the newcomers approached. Their respective guards stopped several yards from the table, forming a wall between the alcove and the rest of the coffee shop. Harry recognized Malcolm Todd’s scowling face, but the other three men were strangers.

The ginger-haired one stepped forward and bowed. He was a large man with a greying auburn beard. He’d gone soft in the middle with age, and Harry had seen his sly, currant-like eyes before…in the face of Dewey O’Toole.

“Top o’ the morning to you, Black,” the man said with false cheer.

“And to you, O’Toole.” Black looked over the man’s shoulder. “Where’s your boy? Thought he was learning the ropes.”

“Dewey ain’t one for mornings. You know the younger generation,” O’Toole said easily.

“I know that if the younger generation were to spend less time rabble rousing and more time earning their keep, they’d save us all a world o’ trouble.”

O’Toole’s smile wavered, but he managed to keep it in place.

Black waved him into the seat to his left and greeted the next in line.

“Severin Knight,” he said. “Been a dog’s age.”

“Mr. Black.” Knight’s polished accent was at odds with his rough-hewn features and burly frame. His rather exquisite silk cravat was offset by his swarthy skin. “Pardon if I haven’t paid my respects of late. Business has been occupying my attention.”

“You ain’t the only one. ’Ave a seat so we can get down to it.”

Knight inclined his dark head, seating himself beside O’Toole.

The last stranger came forward. Even if the process of elimination hadn’t verified his identity, Harry could guess who the man was from his sisters’ description of their friend’s husband. They’d said that Adam Garrity was a fastidious man whose good looks were diminished by his ruthless, cold-blooded aura; as usual, they were spot on.

Garrity was not the tallest, burliest, or loudest of the group, yet intangible power emanated from his lean and subtly honed frame. His eyes were hard onyx, his brows black slashes, his cheekbones blade-sharp beneath his pale skin. When he inclined his head, not a single strand of ebony hair fell out of place.

“Thank you for coming, Garrity,” Black said.

“My pleasure.” Garrity’s gaze flicked to Harry, and Harry felt his muscles constrict beneath that piercing stare. “New man?”

“Can’t ’ave too much protection these days,” Black said.

“Indeed.” Garrity proceeded to the chair at the opposite end of the table.

As everyone took a seat, Malcolm Todd’s beady eyes roved over the remaining chairs. Apparently finding none of them satisfactory, he went over to Harry, who was to Black’s right.