“Since I took her box, she cannot abide me.”
“Can you blame her?”
Guilt stabbed at Theo’s conscience. The knock to his pride had left him eager to prove a point, though it was time to do the gentlemanly thing and make amends.
“When Aramis suggested the wager, I was in a dark place,” he confessed. The camaraderie had helped him forget how perilously close he had come to dying. He would be cold in the grave had the thug aimed an inch lower.
Aaron stood and gripped Theo’s shoulder. “There’s a reason I gave you the King of Hearts moniker. When someone hurts you, you feel it deeper than most. Remember, Miss Darrow isn’t blameless. But you’re right. You need to return her box tonight.”
A pang of remorse twisted in his gut.
Oddly, it had nothing to do with losing the wager.
He would miss playing this game with Miss Darrow.
Aaron heaved a long sigh when Miss Lovelace extinguished the light in the upper window of The Burnished Jade. “I shall accompany you to Holborn. Since there are bets at White’s on which one of us will die first, we must expect an attack from at least one debt-ridden wastrel.”
“I can defend myself.” He’d been shot because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. The blackguard had caught him by surprise. It wouldn’t happen again.
“You fight like a warrior, but a boy brought down Goliath. A woman defeated Samson.” Aaron’s gaze shifted to the window as if Delilah lived across the street. “Besides, the night air will do me good, too. For once, I might fall asleep before the cock’s crow.”
They left Fortune’s Den, blades tucked into sheaths strapped to their shins, the box hidden in a leather satchel draped across Theo’s chest, and traversed the gloomy streets to Holborn.
A drunken fool called to them from a shop doorway, begging for a spare shilling. Aaron flicked him a sovereign. A constable disappeared into a grim alley, preferring an illicit encounter to patrolling the pavements. Not that it mattered. Theo would rather police this problem himself.
Anger ignited beneath his calm facade as he strode along New Bridge Street. He had not visited Miss Darrow’s shop since the day of the shooting. Every approaching step brought an influx of memories; Miss Darrow’s lies, the thug’s vicious threat, a whiff of sulphur tainting the air, the pain searing through his shoulder seconds before he hit the ground.
“It seems Miss Darrow had no intention of committing burglary tonight,” Aaron said, stopping outside the prestigious dressmaker’s shop and studying the facade.
“It’s not burglary if she has a key and owns the object.” Theo glanced above the swinging sign sporting an image of a gold needle and thread—a symbol of Miss Darrow’s artistry. Darkness shrouded the upper windows of the four-storey townhouse.
A sinking feeling settled in Theo’s gut.
Something was wrong.
Aaron tried the front door and found it locked. He knocked three times. No one answered. “Perhaps she has a lover, and they met after she left the theatre.”
Theo kicked the thought from his mind. “She told the jarvey to take her to New Bridge Street.”
“People often change their minds en route.” Aaron glanced over his shoulder at the row of shops across the street. “She may have struck up a convenient friendship with the silversmith or cobbler. A woman living on her own must crave company. Miss Darrow works long hours. Like every woman, she has needs.”
Theo’s fingers tightened into fists. Was Aaron trying to provoke him? Though why Miss Darrow’s private affairs bothered him remained a mystery.
“I wonder if Miss Lovelace does a similar thing when The Burnished Jade is closed on Sundays.” Theo noted the instant flicker of annoyance in his brother’s eyes. “Such an intriguing woman cannot be short of offers. The Marquess of Rothley asked about her tonight. Perhaps he wants to invite her to join his harem.”
Theo thought he felt the ground rumble beneath his feet.
Aaron firmed his jaw and growled, “Rothley can go to the devil.”
“Rothley could coax the birds from the trees while you have the charm of a wilted bouquet.” Theo would have laughed were it not for the gnawing unease in his chest. “If you want her, you’d better do more than gawp at her through the study window.”
“Mention her again and your tongue will be food for the dogs. I suggest you focus on finding Miss Darrow. It’s your fault she’s missing.”
The comment proved sobering. “You’re right. We should check the rear entrance. We can access the yard via Water Lane. I’ll not return to Fortune’s Den until I’m certain all is well.”
Maybe Miss Darrow would call tomorrow as planned.
The thought offered a sliver of hope until he strode into the dingy yard and found the back door to the premises wide open. The splintered wooden frame indicated that someone had kicked it with brute force, shattering the glass pane and scattering shards across the flagstones.
Coldness swept through him, the icy tendrils coiling around his heart. “We should enter the building,” he whispered, praying Miss Darrow was at the cobbler’s shop taking supper and the fellow was old enough to be her grandfather.
Aaron drew his blade from its sheath and insisted on leading the way. As the eldest, he lived to protect his siblings, and Theo knew not to argue.
They passed through the dark corridor to the fitting rooms and saw nothing untoward. The elegant gowns displayed in the shop window remained untouched, but someone had ripped every pair of gloves from the drawers in the glass counter. The doors to the walnut cabinet were open, the ornate combs thrown to the floor.
“We should fetch a constable.” Aaron glanced at the ceiling, the deathly silence making him frown. “Miss Darrow employs three seamstresses. Do you know if any live on the premises?”
“Delphine said they only stay when work demands it.” Theo learnt that much while considering who might have shot him in the street. “Though Miss Darrow has barely opened the shop since her return from Mile End.”
“During your convalescence, did she mention being afraid?”
“No, though tonight she said she would reclaim the box by wicked means if necessary.” He thought she’d meant seductive means and was merely teasing him. “Had she told me she was in trouble, I would have come to her aid.”
“We must check the upstairs rooms.” Shadows of unease passed over Aaron’s rugged features. “Prepare yourself. There’s every chance she’s here.”
A bleak image burst into his mind.
Less than two hours ago, they had shared a memorable kiss. Now, Miss Darrow might be lying sprawled on the landing in a pool of blood, her eyes gazing at heaven, not him.
