Bedford Street Brigade 02 - Love Unbidden (8 page)

Stepmoore turned to face Mack Wallace. “Yes, Mr. Wallace. Mr. Murdock and I were just becoming reacquainted.”

Briggs felt Mack study him. No one could read his brigadesmen better than Mack could.

“I didn’t realize you’d met before,” Mack said

Briggs was desperate to leave. He couldn’t stand being in Stepmoore’s company one more second. “Regretfully, we have. Now, if you will excuse me. I need to speak with someone.”

Briggs felt three pair of eyes focus on him as he walked away. He knew Mack and Lady Pauline were confused by his curtness.

He didn’t care what Stepmoore thought.

He would have to explain to Mack why he’d been rude. But not tonight.

The only one whose opinion bothered him was Lady Pauline. For some reason, he cared a great deal what she thought.

Polly watched Briggs Murdock throughout dinner. Several times she caught him watching her. She couldn’t read his expression as clearly now as she’d been able to before. Occasionally she saw him glancing at her father. There was something in Mr. Murdock’s icy glare that told her they shared a past. And that past was not good.

The expression on his face was resentful. The look in his eyes was murderous.

She tried to ignore him, but found it impossible. She was attracted to him unlike she’d been attracted to any man before. It was as if he were the flame of a candle—and she was desperate for light.

She told herself she shouldn’t think of him. Her father certainly wouldn’t approve of him. Even if there wasn’t something in their pasts that made them bitter enemies, he wouldn’t be someone her father would choose for her.
When it came to his daughter, he had his sights set much higher than a Bedford Street investigator.

Yet, there was something about
the fellow that intrigued her. Something more than his handsome features and striking physique. Something more than the fact that he’d been enormously charming when they’d first met. Until he’d seen her father, that is.

Polly let her gaze shift to where he sat at the table. She noticed that he’d eaten very little. But his wine glass had needed refilling several times. She noticed that he hadn’t been a charming dinner partner for the ladies on either side of him. But sat in silence. She also noticed that her father seemed
a bit unlike his usual self, as well.

The Earl of Stepmoore was reputed to be one of the most well respected men in Society. His opinions were eagerly sought out and well-regarded. Even now, there were several bills in the House of Lords that he’d been working on. These were important bills that he said were essential for the economy of Britain. For months he’d worked tirelessly to get them heard.

But tonight he seemed a bit reserved. In fact, if she thought about it, he’d seemed a bit preoccupied for several days. She was usually free to go shopping with friends, or with Mrs. Cullings, her chaperone. She’d been surprised twice in the last week when he’d refused to allow her to leave the house unless he went with her.

Ordinarily, they
attended as many social events as they could. But for the last week or more, he’d elected to remain home in the evenings. Which meant she stayed home, too.

She moved her gaze to where her father sat, and for the first time noticed the
wrinkles that furrowed across his forehead. She wondered if the worry lines on his face had anything to do with Mr. Murdock. Or if there was something else that bothered him.

Polly was glad when the dinner came to an end and the men left the room to have their
customary brandy and cigar. She wondered how her father and Mr. Murdock would get along confined in Mr. Wallace’s study, but didn’t need to worry. Mr. Murdock separated himself from the men when they turned to the study, and exited out the French doors that led to the terrace.

Polly knew it wasn’t wise to follow, but as if her feet had a will of their own, she excused herself and left the room. She
slipped out onto the terrace from another door where she wouldn’t be seen.

The night air was pleasantly cool, a perfect evening to walk beneath the stars. She took several steps out, then looked to her right and left
before she found him in the shadows on the far side of the terrace.

“Have you escaped the political talk that men usually enjoy when they don’t have to worry about offending and confusing the women?”

He turned. The glass in his hand was half raised to his lips, but when she spoke, he slowly lowered it.

“I needed a breath of fresh air.” He placed his glass on the cement
railing.

“Or did you need to escape?”

He smiled, but it wasn’t a smile that resembled the smiles he’d given her before. This gesture was little more than a grin.

“Perhaps that was my intent.”

Polly closed the gap that separated them. “What happened between you and my father?”

He reached for his glass and took a swallow, then spoke. “You’ll have to ask your father that question. I’m sure his recollection will be far more benevolent than mine.”

“Then I’d rather hear your version.”

He took another swallow. “No you wouldn’t.”

She stared at the way he gripped the glass in his hand. The knot that hardened on either side of his jaw. The short clip of his heated words.

“Would you like me to leave you alone?” she asked
quietly.

He turned from her. “Yes.”

Polly felt a stabbing of anger. Of regret. Of…loss. She turned from him and walked toward the house.

“Wait. Don’t go.”

She stopped, then stepped back to where he was.

“I’m sorry. That was terribly rude of me.”

“Yes, it was. But I forgive you.”

“Thank you.” He set his glass down and extended his arm. “Would you care to walk through Cora’s garden? It’s not terribly large but it’s really quite peaceful.”

“I’d love to.”

She hooked her arm through the bend in his elbow, then he escorted her from the terrace and down a path.

“Are you working on a case right now?” she asked. She wanted to question him further about his association with her father but knew that topic was off limits.

“I wrapped up the case I was working on earlier this afternoon.”

“Have I heard of it?”

That question elicited a smile. “Perhaps.”

When he didn’t answer right away, Polly stopped in the center of the path. “Well, are you going to tell me about it? Or can’t you?”

“I suppose I can tell you about it, since it will be in the papers tomorrow.”

He hooked her hand through his elbow again and continued along the manicured path. “It was the robbery at the Mercantile Bank.”

Polly stopped. “The robber was one of the tellers, wasn’t it? That’s where Father and I bank and we’ve argued about it since it happened. I
think the robber had to be someone inside the bank. And Father insists the thief was from the outside. Which one of us is right? Oh, I can’t wait to hear.”

“Well, Lady Pauline. You both are.”

“Both?”

“Yes. As you will read in the news sheets tomorrow, the mastermind behind the robbery was one of the tellers who worked at the bank. His partner was a thief who was well known by the police.”

“Oh, I knew the thief had to be someone who worked at the bank.”

“And just how did you know that?”

“Why, because the robbery occurred at the perfect time.” Polly stepped over to a wrought-iron bench and sat. Mr. Murdock sat beside her. “Anyone who banks at the Mercantile and pays attention to the daily bank routine knows that the day’s transactions are removed from each teller’s drawer at precisely two o’clock each afternoon. Therefore, the ideal time to commit a robbery would be shortly before. That’s when each drawer would have the most money in it. The average robber would think the most advantageous time to rob a bank would be right before the bank closed. But only someone who worked inside the establishment would know that’s when the drawers contained the least amount of money. The robbery at the Mercantile Bank took place at precisely one-forty-five in the afternoon. Which means the robber knew the best time to commit the robbery.”

Mr. Murdock lifted his chin and laughed. The sound was deep, and rich. One that warmed her to her very core.

“I don’t believe it,” he said, turning on the bench so they sat face to face.

“What don’t you believe?”

“How you deduced all that information. It must be amazing to be inside your mind.”

Polly looked down at her
hands clasped in her lap. “I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?”

“You certainly have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Sorry about what?”

“Sorry that I voiced my opinion. I know it’s not at all seemly.”

“Why on earth would you think saying what you think isn’t seemly? I’m impressed.”

Polly lifted her gaze. “You are?”

“Of course I am. Do you know how long it took Hugh and me to deduce that?”

Polly lifted her gaze slowly. “You didn’t just automatically know?”

“Of course we didn’t automatically know.” He looked into her eyes. “Why did you think you had to keep your thoughts to yourself? Why would you think coming to such a brilliant conclusion would offend anyone?”

“Because in my world, it would have. Father says I must keep such opinions to myself. Men aren’t attracted to women who have a mind.”

“Do you agree with him?”

“Unfortunately, I do. I’ve seen examples of it time and again. I seem to get along quite splendidly with the male species until I forget myself and voice my opinion on some topic.”

“Does it anger your father when you are outspoken on certain topics?”

“Heavens, no. He often discusses bills in the House to get my opinion. But he also warns me that not all men think as he does.”

He looked at her for several moments before he spoke. “I wish I could disagree with your father, but I can’t.”

“You don’t like him, do you?”

Mr. Murdock rose to his feet. “We should get back before you’re missed.”

Polly rose, but when she took her first step, she turned her ankle and pivoted forward.

Briggs Murdock reached for her and pulled her against him.

Polly wasn’t sure what happened when her body touched his. Her flesh tingled everywhere they connected. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. Blood pounded inside her head, and she found it difficult to find enough air to breathe.

He held her for several long moments and instead of calming, the effect of being held in his arms intensified.

She’d never felt like this. Never realized that a man’s touch could cause such turmoil to rage inside her.

She lifted her chin and looked into his dark eyes. They’d been a dark brown before, but now they seemed black. She couldn’t imagine why his expression seemed so intense.

Her gaze moved to his lips, and she suddenly wondered what it might feel like if he kissed her.

His gaze followed hers and focused on her lips. For a moment Polly thought he might.

But he shook his head and whispered. “We can’t. I want nothing more. But we can’t.”

And he took her back to the bench and helped her sit.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Was it your ankle?”

“It was, but it’s all right. I just lost my balance.”

He knelt in front of her and wrapped his fingers around her ankle. “It seems all right.”

“It is,” she assured him. “Thank you.”

He helped her to her feet and they walked back to the house.

Polly looked up when they reached the terrace and stopped. Her father stood at the edge of the cement. His expression wasn’t one of pleasure.

“Hello, Father. We were—”

“Go to the house, Pauline.”

“But, Father, I—”

“Now.”

“Yes, Father.”

She stepped past Briggs, then past her father, then across the terrace to the house. The last words she heard were those spoken by her father.

“I’ll expect you to call on me tomorrow morning, Mr. Murdock. Early.”

Briggs dismounted from the hack he’d hired to take him to Stepmoore’s town house and looked up at the impressive brick home. It was grand in both size and stature. But he knew it would be. Stepmoore was a very wealthy man.

Briggs opened the gate that lined the edge of the property, and walked to the house. The door opened before he lifted the knocker.

“His lordship is expecting you,” an austere-looking butler informed him. “If you’ll follow me.”

Briggs followed the man down a hallway on the right. He stopped before the third door and knocked.

“Come,” Stepmoore said from behind the closed door.

The butler opened the door and Briggs entered.

Briggs wasn’t sure what he expected, but the open spaciousness of Stepmoore’s study surprised him. So did the general décor. It wasn’t the dark, overly masculine look of so many rooms used by the males of a household. There was a
n orderly, understated elegance and most surprising, a welcoming air about the place.

“Come in, Murdock.”

Stepmoore rose from behind his desk and pointed to one of the two chairs in front of his desk. Briggs sat in the opposite chair.

Stepmoore acknowledged his defiance with a lift of his brows.

A maid followed the butler back into the room and poured tea. After she served them, she left the room. The butler followed, then closed the door behind him.

They were alone.

“I find this difficult, Murdock,” Stepmoore said after he’d taken a sip of his tea, then set his cup and saucer on the desk.

“What exactly do you find difficult, my lord? Facing the son of the man whose life you ruined? Being in the same room with a man you know despises you above all other men? Or,
speaking with a man with whom you cannot abide seeing your daughter associate?”

Stepmoore sat back in his
chair. “You’re a very blunt fellow, aren’t you?”

“I’m used to facing and evaluating every situation as I see it.”

“Yes, well…” Stepmoore lifted a pen from his desk and turned it in his fingers. “I’d like to explain what happened between you father and—”

“I’m not interested in hearing your excuses.
” Briggs stood. He didn’t want to hear lies from the man who was responsible for his father’s death. “Your words come too late, my lord. Far too late.”

Briggs turned and took his first step away from Stepmoore.

“Wait,” Stepmoore said.

Briggs spun back and glared at the man who’d ruined his family. “Why? So you can give me one last order to stay away from your daughter? Well, you don’t have to concern yourself on that score. Your daughter and I hardly run in the same circles. I have no intention of seeing her again.”

Briggs strode to the door in long angry strides. He couldn’t wait to be out of Stepmoore’s sight.

He reached the door and grabbed the knob. Then turned it.

“Wait, Murdock.” There was a long pause before Stepmoore’s next words. “Please, I need your help.”

Time stood still. His fingers still gripped the handle of the door. All he had to do was pull the door open and he could be away from here. But Stepmoore’s words refused to leave him.
Please. I need your help.

He released his grip on the door and turned. “What could you possibly need my help with?”

“My daughter.”

Stepmoore pick up a folded piece of paper from the desk and held it out.

Briggs walked across the room and took it from Stepmoore’s hand. He unfolded the paper and scanned the words. When he reached the bottom, he read them again.

Stepmoore,

You have a lovely daughter. It would be a shame if anything were to happen to her. Don’t pursue your Railway Act or your daughter will pay the price for your foolishness.

Briggs
’ blood ran cold. Someone was threatening to kill her because of a bill her father wanted to introduce in the House. Briggs’ temper soared.

He walked across the room and faced Stepmoore. “Do you know what this is about? More importantly, do you know who is behind this?”

Stepmoore nodded, then sank into the chair behind his desk. “I have an important bill that I intend to introduce before the House later this month. The intent of the bill is to protect and expand railroad commerce.”

Stepmoore propped his forearms on the desk and turned a glass paper weight in his fingers. “Today we have more than six thousand miles of railroad track that connects our major manufacturing cities. But more tracks need to be laid. We are experiencing a soaring export industry, but only if we can provide the steel to build ships that can get those goods to foreign ports.

“British exports consist almost totally of manufactured goods. Without the expansion of the railroads, many industries will have no way to get their products where they need to be. Steel mills need the railroads to provide steel to the growing shipping industry.”

“What does this have to do with the letter?”

“Not everyone agrees with the need to expand exports. Many in the House have a vested interest in stopping foreign trade.”

“So they want to stop your bill from being introduced.”

“Yes.”

Briggs lowered himself to his chair. “So you want to hire the Bedford Street investigators to protect your daughter,” he said.

“Not exactly. I’m afraid trying to protect Pauline in London would be nearly impossible. She has a very full social agenda. She is quite popular, you know. There’s no way she can be watched both night and day.”

“Then what do you want?”

“I want to hire you to take my daughter to one of our smaller, lesser known properties, and keep her there until after my bill has been voted on in the House.”

Briggs thought of the ramifications of being alone with Lady Pauline for that amount of time. He wasn’t sure he wanted to put himself in such a position. Just being in the same room with her caused his body to react in ways he wasn’t used to combatting. How the hell would he survive being close to her for weeks?

He wiped his damp palms on his jacket.

Lord Stepmoore continued with his stipulations. “I would, of course, insist on an ad
equate number of chaperones to ensure nothing harms Pauline’s reputation,” Stepmoore said, “including my sister, the Dowager Countess of Plainsworth, and a good friend of hers, the Dowager Viscountess of Shillingsham. You will find both of them quite diligent in their duties.”

“How long do you anticipate it will take to get your bill heard and voted on?”

“Three weeks. Possibly four.”

Briggs swallowed a groan of frustration. A month. One month of being alone with a woman whose very presence made his blood boil. A month of having to behave like a monk when all he’d wanted to do from the moment he saw her was hold her, and touch her, and kiss her. Briggs wasn’t sure he could survive the torture of being near her for a whole month.

“What do I get out of this if I agree? Doing anything to help you will not come cheaply.”

Stepmoore closed his eyes and took a shaky breath. “Name your price.”

Briggs didn’t even have to think. The words spilled out as if they’d waited more than a decade to find their voice. “I want what you took from us.”

He leveled Stepmoore with an icy glare. “My mother lives in a home that is barely habitable. I want you to provide her with a stylish home either here in London, or on any one of your estates. She also lives
on a meager income. You will provide her with enough money so she can live in style for the rest of her life.”

“How much money?”

“One hundred and fifty pounds annually,” Briggs demanded. “And one hundred pounds to each of my sisters as a dowry.”

Stepmoore frowned. Then nodded. “Agreed. But ruin my daughter while you are protecting her and I’ll see to it that your mother is no better off than she is now.”

Briggs thought of the home in the country his mother had always dreamed of having and knew he’d move heaven and earth to get it for her. “Your daughter will be returned to you exactly as she left you. Don’t worry on that score.”

“When do you intend to leave?”

“Tomorrow morning. At dawn.”

“Tomorrow morning? Pauline can’t possibly be ready—”

“At dawn. If the lady cannot rise in time to dress, she can go in her night dress. But we will leave at dawn.”

“But my sister and her friend—”

“They can follow later. You can send an army of maids to make sure your daughter is adequately protected until her aunt arrives.”

“Is there anything else?” Stepmoore asked after a lengthy silence.

“Where are we going?”

“The estate is called Redwo
od Manor. It is located two days’ ride north of here. The manor house is quite isolated, and almost no one knows of its existence.”

“Is it staffed?”

“Yes.”

Briggs nodded. “I will see you in the morning.”

Briggs got up from his chair and walked to the door. He stopped before he opened it. “Does your daughter know about the threat to her life?”

Stepmoore shook his head.

“Tell her.”

“Bloody hell, man. Why?”

“So she realizes we’re not going to the country for a summer party. When I issue an order, I expect it to be obeyed. Her life may depend upon it.”

Stepmoore looked like a man in agony. Briggs knew he undoubtedly was. Someone had threatened to kill his daughter and he had to rely on a stranger—a stranger who hated him—to protect her.

After several moments, he nodded. “I’ll tell her before she leaves.”

Briggs turned to walk out the door, then stopped “Why me? Why
not one of the other investigators?”

“Because Wallace said you were the best.”

Briggs gave a sharp nod, then walked out the door and down the street. He tried to keep his thoughts from running wild. He tried not to think of the days and weeks he’d be alone with a female who made his blood boil.

Instead, he concentrated on the home in the country his mother would have to live in. And the money she’d have so she never went without again.

That would have to be his constant thought for the next month. That and nothing more.