He walked out the door and refused to look back, no matter how his hands trembled at his sides with the need to touch her again. To taste that lush mouth. To hear her laughter. To relearn every freckle, every scar on her skin... and to learn all the ways in which she’d changed over the past six years.
Anna.
HisAnna.
Jackson cut acrossthe road and into an adjacent alley that provided a clear view of the blue house off Cleveland Row.
His partner, Roberts, materialized from the shadows of the building, his dark threads and common mannerisms that of a jarvey looking for his next fare. Instead of one of the most skilled enforcers on the Home Office’s payroll.
“How did it go?” Roberts said.
Straight to hell.
Never had the price of patriotism been so high. But to see Anna’s face again, to know she would be his in less than three days...
“Congratulate me, Roberts,” Jackson said without inflection. “It seems I am to take a wife.”
“‘A wife’?” Roberts’s wide eyes settled on the blue building across the street before he turned back to Jackson with a sly grin. “Got you good, did she?”
“It appears the spider’s skills were not exaggerated,” Jackson managed through gritted teeth.
“Or the rumors about the woman’s matchmaking.” Roberts’s good humor faded, coming to realize the shite hole they’d stepped in. “Couldn’t you refuse? Leads have all dried up here, anyway. Not like youneedto stay in that woman’s good graces.”
“Not dying of thirst yet, man.” Jackson walked toward the end of the lane where he’d stabled his horse for the duration of his meeting. “And no, I couldn’t have refused.”
Roberts whistled. “The spider that bad, eh?”
Mrs. Dove-Lyon had nothing to do with it.
However Anna had gotten mixed up with Mrs. Dove-Lyon, it couldn’t have been good. To think of that wager, of another man stepping in to take his place—Jackson shook his head. No, he couldn’t think of that and keep his composure. Anna wouldn’t marry another man because she would marryhim.
Old uneasiness coiled his stomach into knots. Anna hadn’t said more than one word to him. After the way he’d left things between them six years ago, he’d expected scorn, shouting. Thefiery Annabeth Greene had never tempered a single word in his presence, no matter that he’d held the secondary title of marquess before his father had died, and she’d been the only daughter of a humble locksmith at the time.
“What now, Your Grace?” Roberts asked.
Jackson left off the concerning reasons Anna had been at the mercy of Mrs. Dove-Lyon. He’d learn the truth of their connection soon enough, while somehow keeping his connection to the Home Office quiet.
Paying the boy at the stable, Jackson patted Charger’s flank before he passed the reins to Roberts. “Take my horse; I need you to update the secretary and have another agent assigned to watch the Den immediately while I make preparations.”
The next few days would be critical. The counterfeiters had been unnaturally quiet over the past week, most likely keeping their heads low before their next handoff. They’d have to push their product soon. The longer the criminals waited, the more likely the local authorities would uncover the fake notes. A large stack of counterfeit money was about to find its way to the Lyon’s Den. Jackson knew it in his gut.
“What is your dearly intended’s name?” Roberts asked.
“Annabeth Greene.”
If Roberts made the connection between Henry Greene and his daughter—and of course he did; Roberts loved locks almost as much as he loved stealing secrets—he merely nodded. “After my visit to Sidmouth, I’ll grab the special license while you break the news to your family,” Roberts said, cutting into Jackson’s reverie.
Jackson stared at the smaller man. “What?”
Roberts’s bushy brows rose. “You need to inform your relations of your impending nuptials. Better sooner than later, I’d imagine, since no reading of the banns will set tongues wagging.”
Jackson nodded, his brain reorganizing. Of course, he was to be married. Anna was to become his duchess. Personal preparations were as necessary as his business ones.
Jackson would have to inform his brother... andhis mother.
“Ah, hell,” he cursed.
Roberts laughed. “Wish I could be a fly on the wall when you break the news to the old witch.” He scratched his dark, stubbled chin. “Wouldn’t think of waiting to make the announcement until after I go securing the bishop’s approval, would ya? A jaded man like me can hardly find entertainment to suit my tastes anymore. An irate lady ready to commit violence is right up my alley.”
