She’d even called him “storm-worthy,” a clear innuendo that she’d like to breach all his walls. And, swounds, at that moment, he’d been ready to let his every defense crumble for her. But she and her companions had been in the middle of solving a mystery, and there had been no time for more than her few flirtatious words.
Solving a mystery.
Energy shot through Eoin, and his heart squeezed at the onslaught. The Black Sheep Coffeehouse was fast gaining a reputation as the place to go to receive help in unraveling enigmas.
And Eoin had the very devil of one. Even better, he would see Miss Wick again.
Chapter Two
I cannot believe that you allowed me to flirt with a bloody viscount!” Hannah Wick skewered her maternal cousin, Lady Charlotte, with her best glare.
And Hannah was an absolute champion at glowering. After all, her ability to convey authority and outrage with her eyes was an extremely valuable asset when it came to dealing with unruly customers at the Black Sheep Coffeehouse, which Hannah ran with Charlotte and her paternal cousin, Sophia.
Unlike most, Charlotte didn’t squirm under Hannah’s gaze as the three proprietresses washed dishes together in the back room of their establishment. However, the noblewoman may have permitted a single, demure swallow. Hannah couldn’t be entirely sure. Charlotte was always the picture of polite poise, the inverse of Hannah’s own rough-and-tumble presence.
“Well, given the particular circumstances at the time, it seemed most prudent—” Charlotte began to say in that gracious, kind way of hers. When Hannah had first reunited with her estranged relative, Charlotte’s demeanor had grated, but now Hannah had grown rather fond of her.
Sophia broke in to the conversation. “What Charlotte is trying to delicately say is that it wasn’t the time to be dramatic.”
“Dramatic! DRA-MA-TIC!” Hannah hung on to the last word, fully aware and not caring that she was provingSophia’s point. “Why shouldn’t I be dramatic over this? He’s not just any ordinary viscount, is he? And it’s not even that he’s next in line for a dukedom. He will be Foxglen—the FOX-GLEN—someday.”
Sophia reached out and patted Hannah’s arm. “But even then, he won’t be the duke who stole farmland from our grandparents and then sent our starving fathers to the Colonies when they were caught poaching. That is the current Foxglen’s sin, not Malbarry’s.”
“Pfft.” Hannah barely stopped herself from slamming down the ceramic coffee cup that she’d been cleaning. “Any member of the Aucourte family is a nemesis of ours by default.”
Sophia rolled her eyes as she gently disentangled the breakable piece from Hannah’s grip and began to dry it. “We are the daughters of pirates. If we engaged in blood feuds, we’d have nothing but enemies. There is a reason that our investigations have always centered primarily on Foxglen.”
“What do you mean, your investigations?” Charlotte asked as she stacked the earthenware neatly on the shelves behind the serving counter.
“Something is fishy about the Aucourtes,” Hannah said. “For over a decade, there’s been rumors of illicit dealings. Papa wanted to pursue the whispers, but my mother and Aunt Mary talked him out of his revenge. They didn’t want to bring scrutiny upon the coffeehouse.” The establishment was originally a meeting place for London outcasts, including reformers, ex-prisoners, and folks rescued from slavery and indentured servitude by Sophia’s mother, who was known on the high seas as Brave Mary.
“And now I’ve gone and drawn attention to the Black Sheep by opening the back room,” Charlotte sighed. The hidden space for men and women from all social strata to mingle hadconversely become one of the most gossiped about locales in London.
Sophia waved her dishtowel dismissively. “The coffeehouse isn’t in the same precarious financial position that it was when Hannah’s parents first established it. Besides, your strategy increased business by twofold.”
“Your plan has truly been a boon, Charlotte,” Hannah agreed. Originally, she hadn’t been keen on her noble cousin’s suggestion, but the back room had become a lively enterprise that brought in a great deal of coin—money that Hannah was more than willing to spend on loosening lips when it came to the Aucourtes.
“But do you really suspect that Foxglen is committing crimes?” Charlotte asked. “He’s notoriously obsessed with obeying every letter of the law.”
Hannah squeezed the cup she was washing with enough force to send the earthenware shooting through the suds as it slipped from her soapy grasp. “His funds are nothing but ill-gotten gains from enclosing the land that my father’s ancestors tilled for generations. Bloody sheep feasting on grass where wheat and turnips should be growing. Foxglen might act all high and mighty, but he’s just a well-dressed thief.”
“B-u-u-u-t,” Sophia said, hanging on to the word, “despite his greediness, we have doubts over whether he’s the architect behind whatever is causing the whispers. That’s another reason why my mother didn’t think it would be fruitful to chase down the rumors. It’s always been more likely that Foxglen’s sons are involved.”
“Hmmmm,” Charlotte said thoughtfully as she turned from arranging the earthenware. “That does make sense. It’s widely known in Society that Foxglen maintains a tight rein over his sons’ allowances. Too many drunken scandals. They’re forcedto reside wherever the duke does. Neither is known for their morals, so it wouldn’t surprise me if they’d gotten involved in some vile business.”
“Do you know any other rumors about the family?” Hannah asked eagerly. She’d been meaning to question Charlotte, but they’d been too enmeshed in other mysteries.
“Not really—at least not the sort that you’re interested in,” Charlotte admitted. “His daughters are widowed and don’t attend many events since their husbands both died in disgraced financial ruin. The duke, himself, is in poor health and rarely attends social gatherings. His sole grandchild is Malbarry, who’s known as the duke’s shadow. You rarely see one without the other, and people say talking to the viscount is exactly like speaking with the duke. They hold the same views.”
“Ugh.” Hannah resisted the urge to smash the saucer that she was currently cleaning. “How could I even flirt with such a creature? What happened to my good sense?”
“If it is any consolation, you most assuredly disruptedhis.” A slightly impish expression had fallen over Charlotte’s normally serene countenance. Hannah had been spying more and more such looks from her cousin. Normally, she liked the sight but not today.
“His what?” Hannah asked rather waspishly, even though she knew exactly what her cousin meant.
“His good sense,” Charlotte clarified. “He has the reputation for being utterly and thoroughly staid, but you made him blush.”
A spurt of warmth shot through Hannah, and her heart started squeezing like a laundry mangle. Ruthlessly, she stamped down on the unwanted excitement. “Are you insinuating that I am a corruptive force?”
