Romancing The Rogue (The Rogue Chronicles Book 1) Page 12

  He muttered a quick, “Terribly sorry. Wrong shop,” before hurrying out.

  Luckily, Taylor had turned away but remained in clear view, crossing the busy street ahead. Richard followed and moved behind a man carrying barrels when Taylor again looked behind him.

  Was the spy always this cautious or did he sense someone followed him? No wonder Whitehall agents hadn’t had any luck in trailing him before.

  Richard paused at the entrance of an alleyway as Taylor slowed his pace then stopped in front of a shop. The man leaned against the storefront as though prepared to wait for something or someone. Richard studied the area, trying to determine what that might be but saw nothing obvious.

  Minutes ticked by slowly. The stench of the alley began to overwhelm Richard, making him wish he’d picked a more pleasant place to hide. Heaven knew what filth was under his feet. He only knew he slid slightly each time he shifted.

  Shouts from several cart drivers echoed on the street, drawing his notice. A hackney that had blocked the busy street eased forward at the shouts, obstructing his view of Taylor.

  But Richard no longer worried about Taylor because the hackney revealed a glimpse of someone who did not belong anywhere near this street. He hurried forward, a terrible feeling of dread gripping him, hoping he was mistaken.

  What was Caroline doing here?

  As Richard crossed the street, Taylor moved as well, entering the shop just behind Caroline and her maid. Just when Richard had become convinced Caroline played no part in the espionage world, this terrible twist of fate occurred.

  A glance at the sign above the shop declared it Gilbert Bigley’s Book Emporium. He opened the door and stepped inside, hoping he was wrong. But he didn’t believe in coincidences.

  After a moment, his eyes adjusted to the dim interior. The long, narrow shop held shelves from floor to ceiling filled with books. The dustiness of the place nearly overwhelmed the musty scent of old books. Apparently, Mr. Bigley didn’t believe in cleaning.

  A wooden counter stood near the front window but no clerk lingered behind it. Nor was there any sign of Taylor or Caroline. He listened carefully but the shop was eerily quiet.

  As silently as possible, he eased forward, listening as he went. The muffled sound of voices could be heard from the back. No other customers browsed the tall shelves. Richard’s nerves stretched taut as he neared the rear of the shop.

  “I’d like to exchange this book, please.”

  His heart sank at the sound of Caroline’s voice. What possible reason could she have to be in the very shop Taylor had entered unless she was some sort of spy?

  He waited, listening closely, but couldn’t understand the muffled reply of the man who answered.

  “It’s supposed to be ready for pick up.” Her voice held a tightness, suggesting she was uncomfortable with the situation.

  “I’ll take that.” The authoritative male voice left no room for argument.

  “You certainly will not,” Caroline responded. “Who are you?”

  Richard remained hidden in the shadows but now had a narrow view of the rear room. He eased closer still and could see Taylor and another man with a waxed moustache who must be the shop owner, but he couldn’t see Caroline. A small gasp alerted him to the maid’s presence outside the rear room. She must’ve recognized him. He held a finger to his lips, requesting her silence, and she nodded in response.

  Two against one weren’t terrible odds, but he waited, heart pounding, trying to understand what was happening before taking action. More than anything, he wanted proof that Caroline had nothing to do with Taylor or espionage.

  “I’m supposed to exchange the book for another you were holding for a Mr. Johnson. I’m not leaving this one without retrieving the other.”

  Trust Caroline to argue. The familiarity of that made it hurt even more to think she was involved in all this.

  “The other book has been delayed,” Mr. Bigley insisted.

  “I’ll be taking your book.” Richard saw Taylor reach for the wrapped package Caroline held.

  “No, you won’t.” Her firm tone might’ve made him smile under other circumstances.

  Oddly enough, Taylor hesitated as though he considered listening to her. Then he grabbed the package, attempting to twist it from her grasp.

  “Release it,” Caroline demanded, both hands holding tight.

  The maid stepped forward to help, but Richard held up his hand to stop her.

  “Give me the damned book.” Taylor continued tugging on the wrapped text.

  “Stop, both of you.” Mr. Bigley looked back and forth between the pair of them, blinking rapidly.

  Caroline stepped forward to stomp on Taylor’s foot. For the life of him, Richard couldn’t understand why she was being so stubborn. Why didn’t she just give it to him? Her mission must be of great importance, else she’d have released it without a fight.

  “Ouch. Damn and blast.” Taylor let go momentarily as he bent to hop on one foot.

  “Now see here, miss,” Mr. Bigley said. “I don’t want no trouble. The pair of you need to settle this elsewhere.”

  “I do not know who this man is or why he wants this book, but I am not giving it to him. I’m supposed to trade the book for another.”

  Her oddly worded response made it sound as if she were following someone else’s instructions. While she might be connected to all this, Richard wondered if she wasn’t directly involved, or at the very least, didn’t understand what her true purpose here was.

  When Taylor straightened, light glinted off the knife in his hand.

  Richard’s breath caught in his throat as Caroline cried out, and he rushed forward, intent on removing the danger.

  Taylor turned to face the new threat but was a moment too slow, thanks to Caroline’s cry.

  Richard reached for the knife, but Taylor slashed forward, cutting Richard’s hand.

  “Richard?” Caroline stilled, her surprise at his presence clear.

  He kept his focus on the knife, ignoring the pain along with her shock. Taylor knew what he was about, wielding the knife like a man well versed with such a weapon. His next slash caught Richard’s upper arm.

  The injury burned, warning Richard it was deep.

  Anger caused him to lunge forward, grabbing the hand that held the knife. Richard struck the man’s hand against the wall, trying to force him to release the knife. Taylor punched at Richard with his free hand but with limited effect as Richard blocked it with his shoulder.

  “Do something,” Caroline demanded.

  Richard thought for a moment she spoke to him, only to realize she urged Mr. Bigley to take action.

  “Release the blade, Taylor,” Richard demanded. His injured arm ached, the throb stealing his strength. He thrust Taylor’s hand against the wall again, this time, putting his body into it, immobilizing the man’s other hand as best he could.

  Caroline rushed to his side and shoved off Taylor’s hat then slammed her package on his head. The book wasn’t large, but she did it again and again as Richard did the same with Taylor’s hand.

  The knife clattered to the floor at last. The burning ache in Richard’s arm worsened as Taylor struggled against him. Richard stepped back to strike him in the stomach. Taylor’s breath came in gasps but still he didn’t give up. He flailed wildly against Richard, landing several punches.

  Fear for Caroline had Richard shifting in front of her to shield her from Taylor’s fists, but the lady didn’t care for that. She reached around Richard to strike Taylor with the book again.

  The next blow Richard landed struck Taylor squarely in his jaw and the man slid to the floor, unmoving.

  “Miss Gold?” A large man filled the doorway, a cab driver by the look of his clothes, alarm etched in his features. The breathless maid was at his side. Apparently, she’d run to get help.

  “I’m fine, Jack.” But Richard clearly saw she wasn’t. Her lashes were damp with tears. Her hands shook as she smoothed her gown. “Aberla
nd is here. All is well.” She lifted her chin and met Richard’s gaze as though to dare him to argue.

  Richard could only stare in surprise. Her faith in him took him aback, especially when this situation had gotten so far out of hand and since she hadn’t bothered to tell him about this rendezvous earlier.

  He glanced at Mr. Bigley, who hadn’t moved the entire time. His wide eyes and gaping mouth below his waxed moustache suggested a brawl was a rare occurrence in his shop.

  “Jack, do you have something with which to bind this man?”

  Mr. Bigley roused himself. “I have some string I use to tie packages.” He hurried over to a spool of it and used scissors to snip off several lengths.

  Jack stepped forward and turned the unconscious man onto his stomach, pulling his hands behind his back.

  Taylor moaned at the movement as Jack made quick work of the task then looked at Richard for further instructions.

  “Is your coach out front?” At Jack’s nod, Richard said, “Let us place him in it.”

  “I’ll put him on the seat by me where I can keep an eye on him,” Jack offered. He easily lifted the man to his feet as Taylor came to his senses. “Get along with you now.”

  Taylor turned to glare at Richard and Caroline. “This isn’t over.”

  “I believe it is,” Richard said, drawing a deep breath to counter the throbbing of his arm.

  Caroline reached down to retrieve her book and picked up Taylor’s knife as well. “Do you want this?” she asked Richard.

  “Yes.” Using his left hand, he reached for it to put it in his pocket.

  “What are you doing here?” Caroline asked him. “Were you following me?”

  “No.” He wasn’t about to tell her exactly what he’d been doing, but he had many questions for her. “We’ll talk after you’ve safely returned home.”

  “One moment, please.” She turned back to the shopkeeper. “You’re certain you don’t have a book to exchange for this one?”

  “No, miss. I have no idea of what you’re speaking. Now if you and the man would leave, I’ll be locking my shop for the day. This has all been too much.”

  “There’ll be someone coming by later, requesting additional details,” Richard warned him.

  “He can ask whatever he wants,” the man said with a wave of his hand. “I don’t have any details to give.”

  Caroline reached for Richard’s arm, and he hissed with pain. “Oh, good heavens!” Her alarm made him look closer.

  Richard pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it over his bleeding hand. Then he glanced at his arm to see how bad it was.

  His jacket sleeve was wet with blood.

  She put a hand over her heart as she stared at his injury and drew a ragged breath. “Do you have a cloth of any sort?” she asked the shopkeeper.

  He reached for a dirty rag on a shelf but she waved him back. “I’d prefer a clean one.”

  The befuddled man glanced about as if he wasn’t certain.

  “I’ll find something. Let us go.” She took Richard’s good arm and eased him forward as though worried he might collapse at any moment. Her wide-eyed expression appeared more frightened now than when they’d been in the midst of the struggle.

  “I’m fine.” Richard shook his head and picked up the pace. The sooner they were out of this place, the better. He felt the weight of Caroline’s gaze, aware of how closely she watched him.

  “Lizzie, that was quick thinking to fetch Jack,” Caroline said. “Well done.”

  The maid hurried along behind them. “Thank you, miss.”

  “Could the aisles be any narrower?” Caroline muttered under her breath as they made their way to the front door.

  Richard was pleased to see Jack had already managed to set Taylor beside him, the driver’s bulk enough to keep the bound man in place.

  “Where are we taking him, my lord?” Jack asked.

  “To my residence, if you please.” Richard gave him the address, with instructions to go around to the rear entrance.

  “Forgive me for not getting the door,” Jack added with a grin.

  “No worries.” Caroline stepped forward to perform the task. She blinked rapidly, as though to fight back tears. “Inside you go.”

  Richard shook his head and gestured for her to precede him. “After you.”

  He settled beside her, careful not to sit too close lest he get blood on her. The maid sat on the opposite bench.

  Caroline bent forward, and he heard the tearing of fabric before he realized what she was doing. She straightened with a length of her chemise in hand and bound his arm over the top of his jacket. The throbbing eased slightly.

  He didn’t pretend to understand why she appeared more upset now than when Taylor threatened her with a knife. She couldn’t seem to take her gaze from his injuries, while all he could look at was the book that now sat on the bench beside the maid.

  The sight of it made him all the angrier. She could’ve been killed and all for that damned book. “Why on earth were you in that bookshop?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Caroline looked down at her clenched hands, focusing on anything other than Richard. Her gloves were bloody, ruined in fact. That was Richard’s blood. The thought caused her stomach to lurch, and she swallowed hard. The idea of him in danger—of how close he’d come to losing his life—made her positively ill.

  She didn’t want to answer his question as she had no idea how. Nor did she want to discuss any of this in front of the maid. Lizzie might feel compelled to share the entire story with Barclay, who would no doubt tell her mother. That would only create far more problems than she was willing to deal with.

  “I was exchanging that for another.” She pointed toward the still-wrapped book beside Lizzie.

  Silence greeted her response. When at last she looked at Richard, it was to see his eyes close briefly.

  “You’re obviously in pain. Why don’t we delay this conversation until after we’ve seen to your injuries?” She looked at Lizzie then back to Richard, hoping he understood the implication that she preferred to have the discussion in private.

  He glanced away, a muscle flexing in his jaw.

  How much should she tell him? Part of her wanted to share everything. Did she dare?

  She studied his profile from under her lashes, remembering again the incredible feeling of relief when he’d stormed into the back room of the bookshop. She still didn’t understand what had happened. Who was that Taylor person, and why had he tried to take the book?

  And why had Richard been there?

  Her gaze dropped to Richard’s wound, her stomach dipping at the thought of the knife slicing his arm. Then his jacket caught her notice. The coarse wool fabric was nothing like what he normally wore. His hat had certainly seen better days.

  Before she thought better of it, she asked, “Are you in some sort of disguise?”

  He looked at her, his eyes cool, but he didn’t reply, only turned back to the window.

  Apparently, he didn’t wish to say anything in front of Lizzie either. At least she hoped that was the reason for his silence.

  “The fog refuses to lift today.”

  “Humph,” was the only response he gave.

  After that, she couldn’t think of anything else to break the terrible silence.

  The cab stopped in an alleyway off Park Lane. She peeked out the window to see a relatively modest house, though it was difficult to see much from this entrance.

  “I’ll see to our prisoner.” Richard held her gaze. “I will discuss this matter with you tonight at the Thompsons’ gathering.”

  She shook her head. “I’m coming with you.”

  He paused as he prepared to alight, the glare he gave her anything but welcoming.

  “I insist on aiding you with your injuries.” She drew a deep breath, girding herself to convince him she was coming. “It’s my fault you are hurt. Please allow me to help.”

  His scowl indicated he didn’t ca
re for her plan, but nor did he argue. She had to wonder if that was because he was in pain or because he was angry.

  She hurried out of the carriage, Lizzie behind her. Jack had secured the horses and two of Richard’s footmen came out of the house to help them. Neither of the liveried servants batted an eye at the trussed-up man.

  Was this a common occurrence? Did he frequently bring home roughed up men with their hands bound?

  The entire day had been so unsettling. How unreasonable of her to expect anything different at this point.

  Richard’s home had the look of a Georgian villa. The three-story red brick had a wrought-iron fence around the gardens. While not terribly ornate, it was well-kept.

  “Will you be needin’ me, miss?” Jack asked.

  “I’ll see the lady home,” Richard advised him, his face pale. “Come inside and you’ll be properly compensated for your assistance.”

  They entered the kitchen, and the cook and a maid reacted with more surprise than the footmen had. Perhaps Richard didn’t often bring prisoners into his home through this entrance. The more she learned about Richard, the more confused she became.

  Jack disappeared briefly with the butler then gave them a friendly wave as he left out the back door. At Richard’s direction, the footmen hauled the man into the scullery to be dealt with later.

  “You’re going to send for a constable?”

  Richard paused to look at her, an odd expression on his face. “The authorities will be notified.”

  Though confused by his reaction, she was more concerned about his injury than Taylor’s fate, especially when he drew a long, slow breath. “May I request some bandages, hot water, and a cloth?” she asked the cook.

  “I’ll escort you home,” Richard said with a shake of his head.

  “Not until I’ve seen to your injuries.” She lifted her chin, hoping he knew she wouldn’t take no for an answer. While it was highly inappropriate for her to be alone with him even though they were betrothed, how could she leave him until she knew he’d be all right?

  “It’s not that serious.” At her raised brow, he shook his head. “Very well.” He led the way out of the kitchen, a maid trailing behind them with the items Caroline had requested.