Chapter 11: Chapter 11

aroline studied the package that had arrived earlier, unable to curtail her anger at the sight of

it. The helpless feeling that accompanied the anger was unwelcome and only made her resent the duke’s request more.

Though wrapped in brown paper, it did indeed feel like a book. No personal note accompanied it, nothing to express the duke’s gratitude. Only the name and address of a bookshop,

along with a time. That only irritated her further.

According to Barkley, a young lad had delivered it, which made no sense to Caroline. If the book was so important, why wouldn’t Wayfair have had one of his servants deliver it to

ensure its safe arrival?

He’d explained he was leaving town early this morning, which was supposedly why he needed assistance with the

exchange. After she traded the book, he’d instructed her to hold the new one until his return home.

It was all a puzzle—an annoying one—but regardless, she still had to complete this errand. If the duke decided to tell others of her father’s incapacity, her family’s lives would go

from bad to worse.

She’d decided against telling her mother and sisters of what the duke had said or his request. Nothing would be

accomplished by upsetting them.

The temptation to tell Richard about it had been nearly overwhelming. The way he’d looked at the duke, as though he’d rather strike him than speak with him, had shocked her. She’d recognized it as she felt the same way. There was no ignoring the animosity between the men.

But depending on Richard held far too much risk, mainly to her peace of mind, not to mention her wayward feelings. He might very well be a temporary addition to her life. No purpose could be served by growing dependent on him.

She gathered her things and popped into the drawing

room to advise her mother that she was stepping out for a time. Their maid, Lizzie, accompanied her. Caroline felt guilty for taking her away from her other duties, but she didn’t want to bring either of her sisters for fear they’d ask too many questions she didn’t care to answer.

Fog lingered on the ground and a fine mist fell, giving the air a damp chill as she and Lizzie walked to the hackney cab stand several streets away. The atmosphere suited her mood perfectly. She felt as if she were a character in one of

Annabelle’s stories, neck-deep in intrigue, rather than simply visiting a bookshop.

She drew her cloak tighter then showed the address on the paper to Jack, the burly man who often worked as their driver.

Jack shook his head, a frown crinkling his brow. “That ain’t a good neighborhood, miss.”

The comment gave her pause. How dare the duke send her into an area that might be unsafe. Yet what else could she do? The duke was gone, but his threat still rang in her ears.

She hated feeling so powerless.

“Perhaps Jack would be willing take it by hisself, miss,” Lizzie suggested.

“No, I was asked to do this. I must see it through. I’m only exchanging one book for another, which shouldn’t take long.”

Jack reluctantly opened the cab door, assisting her and Lizzie into the conveyance.

The traffic was modest, giving Caroline hope they’d

complete this errand and return home quickly. Yet the farther they travelled, the more anxious she became. As Jack suggested, the area had seen better days. Or perhaps this was the extent of its heyday.

The people who lingered on the walk were far different from those shopping on Bond Street. By the look of their

rumpled, dirty attire, some of them might have spent the night on the street.

Caroline shared a look with Lizzie, who swallowed hard, her brown eyes wide with concern. At last the cab drew to a halt, and Caroline looked out the window.

Gilbert Bigley’s Book Emporium fit the neighborhood perfectly. The sign hanging over the door was faded and dirty. Soot coated the windows, hiding the interior of the narrow shop from the street. It wasn’t anything like the bookshops she’d previously visited. She was well aware some shops didn’t permit women to enter, let alone purchase anything. She hoped this wasn’t one.

“We’ll stay close together and be in and out of the shop in short order.” Caroline hoped this errand would truly be that

easy. But the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach told her otherwise.

~*~

Richard ducked behind a cart that rumbled slowly along the cobbled street. His quarry, Alban Taylor, had made two stops already and didn’t seem to be done yet. The information he’d been briefed on from Whitehall suggested the man, aged three and thirty, had ties to known spies. They suspected him of gathering information from various sources then sharing it with his counterpart in France.

Whitehall agents had been watching Taylor for the past week with Richard and several of his associates taking turns following him. Their surveillance hadn’t provided any solid evidence as of yet, but Richard had high hopes for today.

He’d watched the man’s lodgings this morning as intelligence suggested he’d be collecting updates from his sources soon. Sure enough, the man had emerged and begun making several stops around the city. Rather than confront him now, Richard intended to follow until Taylor returned home so those from whom he retrieved messages could be identified.

Progress came rarely in this business and only in fits and starts. Days like this made all the waiting and watching

worthwhile. Bringing down an entire network of spies would be an excellent outcome.

Richard had dressed for the task with coarse wool trousers and a worn jacket, anything to avoid drawing notice. The journey thus far had been a combination of walking and a few hackney cab rides.

Richard stepped away from the cart in time to see the man turn onto another street ahead. Taylor was cautious, pausing to look around often. His movements made following him a

challenge.

Richard eased around the corner only to realize Taylor was staring directly at him. He forced his gaze to move past

the man, acting nonchalantly as he continued walking. Without pausing to look, he opened the door of the shop before him

and stepped inside, turning to watch Taylor, whose gaze had shifted elsewhere, much to Richard’s relief.

“May I help you?”

Richard glanced over his shoulder at the feminine tone, realizing he’d entered an undergarment shop. The women perusing the offerings stared at him with disapproval.

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. “Aberland 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?”