CHAPTER1
Greenwich, England
September 1825
The sharp soundof two rapiers colliding rang out through the early morning mist. A shrouded figure dressed entirely in black faced off with a sailor who had decided to pick a fight with the wrong man.
Drake stood in the shadows of a nearby oak as he watched the interaction take place. He had long heard of the prowess that Flavian Davies possessed on the dueling field. This morning he’d decided to find out for himself.
He had to admit that his technique was practically flawless. It was clear his opponent was outmatched. He just didn’t seem to know it yet.
The odd thing that struck Drake was the fact young Davies never fought without his concealing attire. From head to toe, he was like the grim reaper moving through the cloudy haze covering the field. But instead of a scythe, he acquired souls by the nick of his steel blade. Except that was another curiosity. He never challenged anyone to a duel. He was always the recipient of someone’s ire for one reason or another. And he never once took a life. The most he did was draw first blood until the seconds standing by called the match. Generally, it was Davies who was the victor.
Stop playing with him and end this debacle.Drake wanted to shout his annoyance, but neither did he want to distract either opponent. He held no loyalty to either of them, but he held the belief that any duel should be fair. He had dealt with too many crooks and thieves over the course of his three and thirty years to appreciate honesty.
Years before, he hadn’t been so forgiving, eager to gain what he was due and be damned with the consequences of his actions. It wasn’t until he’d spent some time on the sea that he’d stopped to wonder if the life he’d been living thus far had been worth it. Yes, he’d had power, wealth, and the reputation to back up his actions. And yet—something had been missing.
He had traveled extensively, living an unburdened life most dreamed of, and he was still restless, unsatisfied.
Perhaps that was why he had gotten up before dawn and made his way to this abandoned stretch of land to observe a match that had nothing to do with him. Curiosity was the single thing that had propelled him to come here. He refused to think of it as desperation for a life that had no meaning.
His brow furrowed when the sailor fell to the ground and Davies poised his weapon directly in line with the man’s throat, as if this was the one time he might break his rule and end a miserable existence.
“Leave today or next time I might not be so generous.”
The raspy voice rang out clearly as Davies tossed his weapon away but something caused Drake to frown. There was something… off about the tenor. He had heard Davies talk before and it certainly wasn’t with the same inflection. He could be speaking out of theatrics, which would make sense considering the circumstances. Or there could be another reason.
Intrigued despite himself, and likely because he had nothing better to do, Drake decided that the matter might be worth further investigation. It had been some time that he’d been able to solve a mystery and he had the time and the efforts in which to accomplish most anything. If he wanted to learn a scandal within the royal household, it would be no issue for him to find enough fodder to do so. Then again, Prince George IV had no trouble offering enough outrageous behavior for the gossips to use against him.
As the duel reached its conclusion and the opponent limped from the field in defeat, Drake’s focus was on the couple heading in the opposite direction. The furrow between his brows deepened because it looked as though Davies was having a heated discussion with his second. It struck him as odd because although there were times of discord in high tension times like this, Drake found it curious that there was anything wrong with the way the tide had turned. Unless, of course, Davieswantedto end this particular life and was instructed not to do so.
Drake wondered what had caused the duel in the first place and decided that the best place to try to uncover the mystery surrounding Flavian Davies, he needed to go to the Coach and Horses pub where he’d first learned of this morning’s entertainment. Without anything else to occupy his time, Drake adjusted the cap on his head and lit a cheroot as he strolled away.
* * *
As soon asthey were safely ensconced inside the dark carriage, Fleur Davies ripped off the hood of her costume. Her hands were shaking but it had nothing to do with the fact she could have easily lost her life or a limb. She was furious at the man sitting across from her. Flavian was her twin brother, the last of the family she had left, and yet there were times she wanted to run him through with the sword everyone thought he wielded in these ridiculous duels.
“This is the last time, Flav! Do you hear me? I’m not cleaning up after you anymore. I shouldn’t have to put my life on the line because you find this all a lark.”
He removed his hood and tossed it to the side. Although Fleur shared certain characteristics with Flavian—the height and slim build, which made it possible for Fleur to convince everyone that she was her brother—their eyes were the marked difference. She had green like their late mother, while Flavian’s were brown like their sire.
Unfortunately, that wasn’t where the similarities ended between her brother and their late father. Both liked their drink and they enjoyed the company of women. Syphilis had put their father in his grave, and while Fleur wasn’t privy to her brother suffering the same illness, he was well on his way to leaving this earth sooner rather than later. Fleur never knew if it was their mother’s death that had caused their father to spiral into such a dark existence, but she wasn’t about to see her brother meet the same end. She would fight with her every last breath to ensure he didn’t. He was all she had left in the world.
The problem was that while she was working at the Greenwich Hospital School teaching Latin to the orphans of maritime soldiers, Flavian had plenty of time to get himself into mischief. At four and twenty, he was younger by six minutes, and Fleur was tired of feeling as though she was the elder sister by years when it was a matter of chance that she had been born first.
“I’m sorry,” Flavian grumbled. “I told you it was a misunderstanding.”
“Yes. Aren’t they all?” she snapped. After facing her toughest opponent to date, she wasn’t in the mood to humor Flavian at the moment. She was still trying to shake off the misgivings that had taken hold of her the moment she’d arrived at the field that morning.
She had the strangest sensation that she had been watched, and yet, she hadn’t noticed anyone else around.
Normally, Fleur didn’t dare brush back the curtain of the carriage, not wanting to take any chances that she would be seen but something compelled her to glance out. The moment she did her breath caught on a gasp.
“What is it?”
She ignored her brother’s query as her focus fixated on the man standing next to a nearby tree. She saw him grind out a cheroot beneath his heel, the last of the smoke expelling from his mouth. He wore a cap pulled down low over his forehead, but not so far as to conceal prominent cheekbones and a strong jawline. He exuded mystery and danger and she felt a shiver of unease trail up her spine. The worst part was the piercing manner of his stare as he looked at their passing vehicle. It caused her to quickly let the curtain fall back into place.
“What’s wrong, Fleur?”
