Anger burned in Theo’s veins. Why was he surprised? Lady Lucille was a devious devil who valued a prestigious title more than her fickle heart. What grated most was he’d made a damn fool of himself.
“You should have told me,” he snapped.
“When? We’ve barely had time to breathe since I stole into your bedchamber last night.”
“You could have mentioned it on the carriage ride to Covent Garden.” Theo felt the weight of Daventry’s inquisitive gaze but continued, regardless. “How are we supposed to work together if you insist on keeping secrets? Where is the trust?”
“It’s not a secret. But I know how fond you are of her. You’re all she spoke about during her last fitting. I was simply trying to find the best time to tell you.”
“The only thing I feel for Lucille Bowman is disdain.”
“Are you quite certain? Your actions at the Olympic last night suggest otherwise. You wanted to make her jealous. Was that not the reason for our intimate trade?”
Their kiss may have started as a means to bolster his defences, but the touch of Miss Darrow’s lips made him forget anyone else existed. Time had stood still. Nothing else had mattered. Hell, he’d not stopped thinking about her since they’d parted.
He would kiss her now should the chance arise.
During their ride across town, his mind ran amok as he imagined dragging her onto his lap and settling her restless spirit.
“Do you know who Lady Lucille was writing to?” Daventry said, adding to Theo’s discomfort. “Ladies of the ton like to gossip.”
Miss Darrow released a sweet hum as she pondered the question. “No, though I got the impression she was annoyed with someone.”
“Doubtless the lady is keeping another gentleman dangling by a string,” Theo said but was quick to change the subject. “Perhaps you should explain the barrow boy’s role in this debacle.”
Daventry agreed. “We need to understand how your operation works. I assume you keep a record of every transaction.”
“Yes, in a diary at home, though it may have been stolen.”
Was the villain looking for the book or the box? Had a seamstress stumbled upon the information and used it to line her coin purse?
“We’ll return to the shop when we leave here.” He would not hide behind Aaron like a lily-livered fop. If men wished to attack him, they could try their luck. “We’ll search for your diary, and you can pack a valise. I know you’re eager to collect clean clothes.”
Miss Darrow nibbled her lip. “Just the two of us?”
“Just the two of us.” The lady had courage abound. Did she not say she wished to mop up her own mess? Was she not a woman of action? “I can give you a pocket pistol. Sadly, I don’t have an iron skillet to hand. I’m told it was your weapon of choice when I was shot outside your shop.”
Her eyes brightened. “I grabbed the first thing I could find. When used with force, a skillet is lethal. Though I confess, I cannot fire a pistol with any accuracy.”
Theo smiled. “All you need do is point it and cock the hammer.”
“We must visit Jules,” she said as if she’d only just realised the boy might be in danger. “I’ve not seen him for a few days. What if the villain discovered where he lives?”
Daventry pushed a piece of paper across the desk and offered her a pencil. “Note down the boy’s direction. I’ll have an agent visit him now and move his family to a safe location.”
Giving a relieved sigh, she did as instructed. “Jules delivers the notes to a place of the client’s choosing. He collects them from the same place. Sometimes, I’m required to hide them in a seam or tucked inside a hat or glove and deliver the garment to an address. The process is different for every client.”
“What about the fiend who attacked you?”
The lady shivered as if the beast had trampled over her grave. “He leaves them in the yard, slipped inside a leather-bound book which he hides in the coal shed. I have delivered three in total, though there is never a reply.”
Theo pointed to the three tiny letters on the box’s velvet tray. “One of these must be from the man in question. You seem so certain he was responsible for the damage to your shop.”
With shaky fingers, she pointed to the note sealed with black wax, a colour typically used for mourning. “That is the note I was supposed to deliver two weeks ago. But you stole the box, Mr Chance. I had no way of informing my client. He was waiting for me the night I returned from Delphine’s wedding.”
While a gnawing sense of remorse filled Theo’s chest, Daventry said, “Did he hurt you?”
Miss Darrow winced. “A little.”
Theo shot out of the chair. “You should have told me.” He ripped off his hat and thrust his hand through his hair. “I would have returned the box and helped you defeat this devil.”
She looked up at him with a sad expression, her eyes glistening like dew on a meadow. “I’m used to fending for myself. It’s hard to know who to trust.” Her gaze fell to her lap, a silent testament to the trials she must have endured.
Though the situation was not as harrowing as seeing Aaron hurt as a child, it pained Theo to know Miss Darrow had suffered while he’d been sleeping peacefully in his bed.
“I promised to deliver the note this evening.” She looked at the mantel clock and seemed relieved it was only midday. “He insisted I bring it personally and said there must be no more mistakes. I’m to place it inside the book he left in the shed and deliver it to the travelling library at six o’clock.”
“The travelling library?” Daventry narrowed his gaze. “You speak of Mr Pickering’s elegant wagon? Only the wealthy can afford to pay for his services.”
“Pickering used to call at Fortune’s Den before my brother Christian moved to Ludgate Hill.” Theo returned to his seat. From his recollection, Pickering would move mountains to please his prestigious customers. “The fellow sourced rare books on Ancient Egypt. It saved Christian endless hours of research.”
“Do you always deliver the villain’s notes to Pickering?” Daventry said.
Miss Darrow nodded. “I hide them beneath a paper bookplate I glue to the inside cover.”
Theo found that odd. “Why does the villain not hide it there himself? Then you would have no need to handle the note.”
“Because he has been known to change his mind.” She paled and clutched her hand to her chest. “I woke to find he had been in my bedchamber. He left instructions to say I must deliver a different note. So I can only imagine he does not wish to deface the book.”
