“I would never be foolish enough to threaten you, Arden.” But she did have a well-known, unchecked habit of poking rattlers, and the Duke of Arden was certainly a rattler, amongst other things. Hazel offered him an encouraging smile. “Rather, it is a chance for you to unburden yourself on your own.”
“The Duke of Winchelsea may be charmed when you flutter your lashes at him, but I am impervious to your wiles, madam,” he said in his clipped aristocratic accent.
He thought she had wiles? Hazel nearly laughed aloud. She boasted a great many talents, but seducing gentlemen had never been one of them. Indeed, she had not even been interested in a man since Adam. Her reaction to Arden was an anomaly. Likely because the man himself was an anomaly. She had no doubt it would dispel soon enough.
“I am not attempting to lure you behind the barn for a kiss, Arden,” she retorted. “I am asking for an explanation. If you have weaknesses, I need to know what they are, for your safety, as much as for my own.”
“You are an odd woman, do you know that, Miss Montgomery?”
He was frowning at her, and she could not be certain if he called her “odd” as a compliment, or an insult. She frowned right back at him.
“And you are a stubborn man, Mr. Arden,” she challenged, once more reverting to the manner in which she could nettle him best.
There was something about getting beneath the Duke of Arden’s thick skin which appealed to her. She could not deny it.
The carriage came to an ill-timed stop.
“We have arrived at Praed Street Station,” Arden announced.
And damn her hide, but Hazel was just as tempted to remain in the carriage, as she was to leave it and investigate the location. All the more reason to flee this enclosed space and create some much-needed breathing room between herself and Arden.
With great haste.
“Then let us not waste a moment more.” She tucked her list back into her coat pocket. “We have much work ahead of us, and if my research is any indication, little time in which to accomplish it, if we wish to stop further attacks before they happen.”
“This is highlyirregular,” Aunt Hortense announced staunchly that evening following dinner. “I must insist that Miss Montgomery and I withdraw. It simply is not done for a lady to remain in the dining room for port and cigars.”
Lucien frowned. Aunt Hortense’s previous introduction to Miss Montgomery had been awkward. The notion of an unwed female as their guest had been blaspheme to her. And now, he had politely suggested to his aunt she retire to the drawing room alone, so he could confer with Miss Montgomery. His poor aunt had nearly swallowed her tongue.
“Dear Aunt, you know this pertains to Special League matters,” he reminded her gently. “There is nothing about Miss Montgomery’s presence here that is regular.”
“I dare say not,” replied his great aunt, the frigid chill of deepest, darkest winter in her voice.
She disapproved. He could not blame her. He disapproved as well.
But Miss Montgomery had been foisted upon him by the Home Office, and he had a duty to perform. Part of that duty was working alongside the lady in question. Without the hindrance of his lady aunt, who was as trapped in the decades of a bygone era as her attire. She still proudly wore her widow’s weeds in the fashion of her halcyon days.
“There will be no cigars,” he offered. “You know I cannot abide by the things.”
“The lack of cigars is not at issue here, Arden,” she argued shrewdly.
Perhaps she imagined Miss Montgomery a grasping American, who would attempt to trap him into marriage at the first opportunity. If Miss Montgomery had been a finely bred English lady, the sort of delicate flower who blossomed in drawing rooms and curtseyed before the queen, he would have agreed with Aunt Hortense. But there was something about Miss Montgomery—perhaps her mannerisms, perhaps her extensive history of experience working alongside other men before him—that put him at ease. He had no fear she would attempt to dupe him into unwanted nuptials. She hardly seemed the sort who would wish to wed, and he had vowed to never find himself trapped in the constraints of such an untenable institution.
“Lady Beaufort,” Miss Montgomery interjected, before he could steer the conversation into safer waters, “you must forgive me for disrupting your household. Your hospitality has been most excellent, and I am ever so thankful to you for your kindness in humoring my presence here. Naturally, I do not wish to upset you. Perhaps I shall withdraw with you, then later, meet with Arden in his study. Would you be more amenable to such an arrangement?”
The woman’s drawl was in full effect now, dripping in honey. She did have a certain, unusual charm about her. Even Aunt Hortense, who was ordinarily as indefatigable in her defense of propriety as a battleship, appeared to wilt just a bit beneath the force of so much charisma.
“Miss Montgomery, you are an unmarried female, and it simply is not done for you to be alone in the duke’s presence,” Aunt Hortense said at last, but her tone had lost some of its ice.
“I do realize you are unaccustomed to such an arrangement,” Miss Montgomery continued gently, “but it is my occupation. I have been a detective for over a decade, my lady. I have worked in the company of gentlemen all this time. My honor remains intact.”
“It is not your honor which concerns me, but that of my nephew’s,” Aunt Hortense snapped. “I have never in all my life seen a female who so dares to defy civility, as to garb herself as a gentleman. I can only imagine what you are capable of.”
Bloody hell.Perhaps he ought to have sent her to live with Lettie and Strathmore. Her widow’s portion was small, she had been living at Lark House for years, and Lucien loved her as he had once loved his mother. But this interference was not what he needed. Perhaps if he spoke to her alone, in private, later…
“My lady, your tongue is unbecoming,” he chastised his aunt. “I must insist you apologize to Miss Montgomery.”
“It is quite alright, Arden,” Miss Montgomery reassured him, sending a smile in Aunt Hortense’s direction. “I understand your concern, my lady. Even at home in America, I am not like most women. I can only imagine how strange I must seem here. But despite my lack of sophistication, I can assure you, the work I must attend to with Arden is of the utmost importance. Far more important than breaking a rule by remaining at the dining table for a glass of port.”
