Deception (10 page)

Lillian remained impassive, but she put her hand over the document. “We appreciate the offer, Tom, but we have things in hand.”

Tom’s shoulders slumped, and he mumbled something under his breath.

Dorian said, “You should go back to bed, Tom. We will call you if we need anything.”

“Yes, sir.” He shambled back down the hallway.

“That might be good advice for us, as well.” Lillian rubbed her eyes.

Dorian’s stomach rumbled.

They both laughed.

He looked at his pocket watch. “This is the problem with working underground. Almost two in the morning and we have had no supper. Perhaps we had better call it a night.”

“I’m a bit hungry myself. And a bath sounds delightful.”

He stood and held her pelisse for her before slipping his coat on. “You may stay at my townhouse, if you are amiable. I live nearby. I’m sure food and a bath will be waiting for us.”

“Your staff must be very loyal to put up with such hours.”

“They are, and they are also well compensated.” He put out the large lantern, and they each took the smaller ones and left the archive room.

Tybee met them at the top of the second set of stairs. Silently, he led them to the exit.

“Mr. Tybee, I think it might be a good idea to lock the archives. It will keep young Tom’s, or anyone else’s, curiosity in check.”

Tybee frowned. “I’ll see to it.”

“Thank you,” Lillian said.

He ushered them out and the bolt slid home.

They stepped into the street and her back stiffened. She took several steps away from him.

“Are you concerned about staying at my home? I can make other arrangements for you tomorrow.”

“I already told you I have no reputation to protect. Or is it your reputation you’re worried about?”

“No. My staff is discreet. No one will know what happens within the walls of my home. Your presence will not become gossip. I only ask because you seem quite tense suddenly.”

“That is because we are being stalked, Dorian.” Lillian tucked her skirts up for fighting.

He sensed nothing. “Where?”

They turned off High Street and walked at a brisk clip. She nodded to the right. “One block over, following in the alleyway, two trebox, possibly three.”

At first, he didn’t see anything, but then a shadow of a cloaked figure slithered along the wall. Excitement pushed away his exhaustion, and he removed the short sword from the sheath at his side. “No time like the present, Lilly. Besides, my townhouse is only one block away. I prefer not to lead them home.”

She drew two thin blades from her boots. Together they rushed down the cross street and into the alley.

The three trebox demons backed away and stared wide-eyed. Dressed to appear human, the minions of the master walked the streets of London unnoticed by a complacent society. The population ignored them, seeing only what they wanted to see.

Two charged forward, brandishing serrated, black-handled daggers. One careened toward Dorian and leaped from the ground with his pointed teeth bared.

Dorian ducked and the demon tumbled to the stone, spun, and knocked Dorian’s sword away. It clattered to the street.

It jumped to its feet and sliced Dorian’s coat at the arm.

Dorian punched the creature’s stomach, then its jaw.

Hissing indecipherable words, the trebox stumbled back.

Lillian was a blur of skirts and knives. He had no time to see to her safety.

The demon thrust his dagger toward Dorian’s gut.

Dorian grabbed its wrists, turned the knife, and pushed the creature against the brick wall.

It hissed more guttural words.

Dorian plunged the knife into the demon’s throat.

Lillian flew through the air, her blades extensions of her hands. As she came down, she sliced the head off the other attacker. Magnificent.

The third trebox ran down the alley.

Lillian caught the demon and thrust her blade through its back. The two crumbled to the ground. Lillian stood and wiped her blades on the demon’s overcoat.

A round of applause broke the silence.

Lillian took a fighting stance, and Dorian ran to her side.

Several men stepped out of the shadows.

In front, Angus Fletcher grinned and clapped. He had the slow gate of a man at his leisure.

The thugs following him tried to imitate, but didn’t quite succeed.

Fletcher stopped applauding and spoke with a thick brogue. “I had heard The Company employed women, but I could not have imagined a lass with such beauty, grace, and ferocity. I am most impressed.”

Lillian remained crouched, as ready to destroy their unexpected audience as she had been the demons.

“I see you are still skulking in dark allies, Fletch.” Dorian put his hand out.

Fletcher shook it and smiled.

“A man has to make a living, Lambert.” He leered at Lillian.

Lillian relaxed.

Dorian wanted to avoid making the introduction. “Angus Fletcher, Lillian Dellacourt.”

Fletcher bowed. He was tall and slender with an air of elegance one didn’t expect from a street thug. “Miss Dellacourt.”

Lillian stood up straight and looked him in the eye. “Mr. Fletcher.”

“Your fighting skills are remarkable.” He stared at her exposed legs.

Dorian staid his desire to run the thief through.

“Your ability to stay hidden and be not the least bit helpful is equally remarkable.” Lillian’s tone was crisp with the right touch of sarcasm.

He didn’t know why he’d worried she might find Fletcher attractive. Perhaps because the man’s good looks were legend in Edinburgh. Even women he had robbed cooed about his stunning sea-blue eyes more than they lamented their loss of a diamond ring.

Fletcher cocked his head and smiled. If his goal was a contrite expression, he only managed arrogant. “You had the situation in hand, Miss Dellacourt.”

“And if we had not?”

“I am at your service.”

Dorian laughed. “For a price.”

“As you say, old friend. I am a businessman. If I expend my extensive resources in a fight, I do expect to be compensated.” Fletcher showed his straight white teeth. He ran his gang like a small army. They took what they needed to live from those who didn’t even notice the loss. Dorian had always wondered why a man as obviously brilliant as Angus Fletcher had chosen a life of ill repute.

Lillian slid her blades into her boots and released her skirts back into place. “This is your city. Don’t you worry that demons will overtake it and you will be left with no one to steal from?”

He frowned but then grinned. “I will give the matter some thought. As it stands now, the bulk of my clientele do not even know demons exist. They certainly have not noticed they are gaining in numbers.”

“But you know.”

Fletcher turned to Dorian. “Lambert, I am stunned by the outstanding company you keep. I thought you were more inclined toward frivolous women.”

“I see the company you keep has not changed much.”

Several of the scrappy men behind Fletcher grumbled, and one punched his palm with his fist.

Their leader only chuckled.

Dorian said, “Miss Dellacourt is not an
inclination,
and I warn you, what you just saw was only a fraction of her abilities. Be careful you do not find yourself on the business end of her blade.”

Fletcher stepped closer to Lillian. “I imagine I might have met my match.”

Lillian stared him down. “I hope you do not intend to force me to prove you right, Mr. Fletcher.”

“Not tonight, Miss Dellacourt. I wish you both a good evening. Do try not to get yourself killed on the short walk home, Lambert.” He nodded before he and his men crossed to the adjacent alley and disappeared into the shadows of Edinburgh.

Dorian offered her his arm.

She took it. “Interesting character.”

“He is one of the cleverest people I have ever met. He runs a gaming hall, thief ring, and has several other businesses all of which afford him a very good living. The most amazing thing is the men under his command are fiercely loyal to him.”

“Why has The Company not enlisted him to our cause?”

Dorian shook his head. “Fletcher is a criminal. He has no interest in anything other than lining his own pockets.”

“Hmm.”

“What?”

“I think you misjudge him. There is something honorable about Angus Fletcher.”

“Do not be fooled by a pretty face, Lilly.”

She laughed. “If that is the case, it would be a first. I am an excellent judge of character. I am never wrong.”

“There is a first time for everything.”

“After tonight, do you still think we are not a target, Dorian?”

“Either someone knows who we are and does not want us to continue our research or this is a remarkable coincidence. Also, in the two years I have worked for The Company, there have been very few demon sightings within the city.”

“I hold little stock in coincidence. I have never seen a demon run or hold back while their comrades die. They always stand and fight. They are not given to surveillance, yet the last demon was likely going to report to someone. How do the demons know what we are doing? Can they sense danger, and if so, does that mean we are looking in the right place? Most importantly, how did they know we arrived today?”

Dorian picked up his sword, wiped it off, and sheathed it. His limbs wobbled against the need for rest and the jolt of excitement. “I have no capacity to contemplate that answer at the moment, Lilly. Let’s go home and think about it tomorrow.”

She walked beside him the two blocks to his house. He opened the gate. “How did you know we were being followed?”

“I have good instincts for such things. Reece always says I have a nose for demons.”

“Any other unique skills?”

“I have a good feel for direction, and I generally know how to find evil.”

“Remarkable.”

Her gaze let on the tear in his clothing. A red streak marred the cloth. She touched his hand and held his arm. “You’re hurt.”

“It’s only a scratch.” He wanted to grab her and kiss her when she worried for him. She was not indifferent. It was a start.

Her plait had come loose and hung over her shoulder. They must have looked a wild pair. As they reached the top step, the front door opened. Dorian’s butler, Stuart, looked from him to his arm, then at Lillian. His expression remained stoic and unfazed. “Welcome home, milord.”

“Thank you, Stuart.”

Stuart said in a thick Scottish brogue, “I will have two baths brought up. Do you require a doctor, milord?”

Dorian’s mother preferred English servants, but a butler who knew everyone in town was very handy for gathering information. Stuart had once been a fine local pugilist, though the only remaining evidence was a crooked hook in his rather large nose.

“No, Stuart. It is superficial. The baths will suffice. Have Miss Dellacourt’s things been put in a guest room?”

He nodded and pulled his waistcoat down over his enlarged belly. “I’ve taken the liberty of assigning Alice to you, Miss Dellacourt. I was given to understand you do not travel with a maid.”

Dorian was not sure how she’d react. She was so self-sufficient. Had she ever had a maid?

“That is most kind. I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble at so late an hour.”

“Not at all, miss.”

The tightness in his chest eased. He should have known better than to worry about such things. Lillian was good with people from all walks of life. The only time she had not been fully in control of a situation had been with the Earl of Shafton. That day she had let his lordship get to her. He had known the buttons to push, but had he known how close he had been to finding the end of her blade?

Too tired to consider the matter further, he brushed it aside.

* * * *

The luxury of a long bath and his own bed had become foreign indulgences over the last month. It was good to be home. Only a few walls away, Lillian slept. Was she comfortable? Did she toss and turn like him? There was something right about having her under his roof. Perhaps one day she’d visit his country estate in Derbyshire. Would she like the country? Could she relax enough to enjoy a short holiday without demons?

Foolish notions, he knew, but he couldn’t help the wild thoughts from keeping him awake. When he’d fallen asleep, he had no idea, but mutterings outside his window as the sun rose woke him.

In truth, he needed a few more hours of rest, but he could not ignore the low chanting. A knock at his bedroom door brought him fully awake. “Come in, Park.”

The valet had been with him for many years. He had taken the demon hunting in stride, though for the past two years Dorian spent most of his time behind a desk. He might have been in any trade. Things were different now.

“We have an odd visitor, my lord.”

He flinched at Park, calling Lillian odd, though from the stoic Englishman’s perspective perhaps she was different. Dorian ignored the remark. “What is that noise outside? Sounds like a dirge.”

“Indeed, my lord. That is the visitor to which I was referring.”

Tall and lean, Park gave an imposing air. He strode to the window and pulled back the curtains.

Though Dorian’s limbs ached from the rush to movement, he stood up, took his robe, and went to the window. His arm ached from the blow he’d taken, but not enough to slow him much.

“She arrived just at dawn, and she insists she was sent to protect the house, my lord.”

“How fascinating. When she has finished with her…whatever that is, ask her to join me in the breakfast room.”

Park’s expression was unchanged. He brushed out Dorian’s morning jacket. “As you wish, my lord. Miss Dellacourt has made her way downstairs already.”

The mention of Lillian made his heart pound, and blood rushed through his ears. He no longer noticed the aches of a long night followed by not enough sleep. He washed and dressed quickly, excited to go downstairs and see her. When was the last time he yearned to see another person? Maybe as a teenager.

He found her in the back parlor staring out the window. “Good morning.”

“I’m sorry you did not manage a few more hours sleep, Lilly.” He crossed the room toward her.