Sam froze. Every muscle in his body locked with anger. Of course this would somehow involve Daisy.
“Obviously.”
“Lord Claystone and his like-minded acquaintances are forming a committee to impose regulations on establishments they deem immoral, like gaming clubs. He’s threatening my business, and I have no qualms about bringing him to his knees—discreetly, of course. There is nothing I loathe more than a self-righteous hypocrite. I want you to steal into their townhouse and take the countess’s diary.”
“A fucking diary?” Sam barked.
She tsked at him. “Language, Lord Alston.”
“What’s in this diary? Secrets of the Crown?”
She snorted. “Wouldn’t that be amusing? But I won’t know exactly until I have it in my hands, but I’m given to understand its contents will be useful to me. You are not permitted to open it. And I shouldn’t have to say this, but don’t get caught.”
Sam rolled his eyes. “Is that all?”
“Is that not enough?”
“It’s absurd is what it is.”
“Then be grateful that is all I’m asking. I’d expect you to take this more seriously. What happens to Claystone can and will affect Miss Blakewood.”
Sam was aware of what was at stake, but there had to be more than this. It couldn’t be this easy to appease her. “When?” he asked. He thought back to Daisy’s note from Lady Claystone. It couldn’t be a coincidence that Cliffton returned tomorrow, could it?
“I recommend tonight. You see, Lord Claystone is hosting a dinner party to gather more support for his cause. Yet he is deeply indebted. Miss Blakewood’s dowery is his only viable lifeline to keep up appearances. If what I suspect is confirmed, not only will he not have Miss Blakewood’s dowery, but he will be socially ruined, and therefore, defeated in his campaign to destroy my lucrative business.”
Sam cursed again. If Lord Claystone became involved in scandal while Daisy was still engaged to Cliffton, she’d be more than ruined. Her family would be pariahs. Even her father’s business could suffer.
“How dangerous is this information?”
“Danger is a strong word. If his secret endeavors became known, the humiliation would be devastating. I don’t necessarily need that to occur. But I do need him to believe it can. I need to him to know that no one can threaten the Lyon’s Den without feeling my claws.”
Sam wiped a hand over his face. “I hope this amuses you.”
“It does.” She steepled her fingers. “He employs private security and, I’ve heard, some fearsome dogs. Best of luck to you, my lord.”
Sam stood and strode for the door. Chase was in the hall, using a knife to clean under his fingernails. Sam stalked passed him.
“I could help, you know.”
Sam paused. “I don’t need your help.”
“You do.”
Sam spun to face him. “Why would I want or need your help?”
“I’ve already taken the liberty of scouting the grounds of the estate. The only way you can get in undetected is by climbing the wall to the second floor.”
Sam’s heart sank to his feet. He couldn’t climb a wall. Even his pride knew he did not have the strength in his arms, and his damned rib could at any moment lance his side with pain and he’d slip. Reaching above his head would feel like hot coals against his skin.
“I’ll take my chances. I’ve charmed my way into many houses without invitation.”
Chase smirked. “You won’t get in the front door.”
“Watch me.” Sam pivoted away. He didn’t have time to argue with Chase. He had to figure this out and not let doubt get in his way. If a diary was all that stood between him and Daisy, then nothing would stop him from getting his hands on it.
“Alston.”
Sam halted and turned to face him. “I beg your pardon. Do you think just because you’re the widow’s hound dog and that you come and go from my house uninvited gives you the right to address me? We’re not friends. After this, don’t ever enter my house again.”
