Page 12 of His Improper Lady

Even more likely was the possibility that it was provided by a husband or lover. Who could very well be the owner of the Farrington Club, as well. Tom’s hope was that it was none of these things but instead belonged to whoever had hired Desiree to search the office and that it would now take her to that person.

Her trail led into an area of elegant homes. Not as imposing as the Moreland neighborhood, of course, but still, the houses were large and attractive, with small green areas scattered throughout and the streets lit by ample streetlamps.

Her carriage pulled to a stop in front of a redbrick house, and Jenkins stopped, as well, pulling over close to the curb some distance away. As Tom watched, Desiree exited the carriage, looked up to say a few words to the driver, then went straight into the home without knocking.

Obviously she lived here. It made the wealthy husband far more likely; it was rather a large place for a mistress. Either that or she actually belonged to the social class of the Farrington’s patrons, which was ridiculous. Even the Morelands, as free and eccentric as they were, would not let a daughter go running about alone in the middle of the night, playing cards at a casino. Equally unlikely was the idea that the place belonged to whoever had hired her to thieve for him; she wouldn’t have just walked into his home without knocking.

“Shall we wait, sir?” Jenkins’s voice came through the filigreed screen between them.

“Yes, for a bit. It’s odd that the carriage is still sitting in front of the house.”

“That it is. Someone’s going to be leaving the place soon.”

“Let’s see who leaves and where they go. Sorry to keep you up so late.”

The coachman let out a brief laugh. “I don’t mind. It’s always interesting working for the Morelands.”

Tom settled back to once again take up watch through the sliver of window not hidden by the curtain. His suspicion was that the man at the casino was also an occupant of the house—who else would be so permissive about her visiting the casino alone? But then why was the carriage waiting instead of turning around and heading back to the Farrington Club to bring the owner home after the club closed?

He didn’t have to wait long before the front door opened again and Desiree emerged. She was no longer wearing the stylish red evening gown but a plain dark dress of the sort the duchess usually wore when she went out to one of her protests. Sensible dress, she called it, or practical dress, something like that. Rational dress—that was it.

So, clearly Desiree didn’t wish to be encumbered by numerous petticoats, corset, and the ludicrously puffed sleeves that were coming into style. But she wasn’t wearing the costume she had on last night, so it seemed unlikely she was going back to burgle someplace—perhaps his office again. It raised his hopes that she was about to lead him to the man who wanted something in the agency’s office.

“Follow her,” he told Jenkins. “Very carefully.”

Jenkins waited until the carriage was some distance ahead, then pulled out into the street and rumbled off after it. The quarry left the pleasant neighborhood behind, and the surroundings grew progressively seedier as they went, until it seemed they were heading into the sort of area that Tom had been so fortunate to get out of.

Dark cramped buildings huddled together and the streets grew ever more narrow until they were little more than paths, twisting and confusing to any outsider. Streetlights were few and far between, all too likely to have been smashed, leaving large areas of dark shadows.

What the devil was the matter with the woman? This place was dangerous, even if one was in a carriage. She was nimble and as fast as a rabbit, not to mention capable of landing a few hard blows of her own, but she would be easily overcome by a man bent on robbery, or worse.

It was becoming harder to follow her vehicle without being noticed, for there was very little traffic here and it was easy to lose sight on the twisting lanes. Ahead of them, the carriage slowed, then came to a stop, and Jenkins pulled up short, as well. The door opened, and Desiree jumped down and walked purposefully away.

“I’ll follow her on foot,” Tom told Jenkins, slipping out the door. “Go home. I’ll manage on my own.”

The carriage they had followed had driven off, leaving an empty and quiet street. Tom didn’t like being out and about in these clothes. His blond hair was too noticeable, but he’d be damned if he’d stroll around here wearing a top hat.

He rounded the corner, keeping his steps quiet. He spotted her in the distance as she passed under a streetlight. Tom trailed after her. She turned the corner at a tavern, and Tom used the noise of the place to pick up his pace without her hearing him.

Tom turned where she had and came to a halt. She had disappeared. He hurried forward, thinking she must have turned again at the next available lane. Had she spotted him? Just as he reached that corner, he heard a thump behind him. Before he could turn around, he felt the barrel of a pistol jammed into his ribs.

CHAPTER SIX

TOM FROZE IN PLACE.

“Raise your hands.” It was her voice.

He did as she commanded, torn between relief that it was Desiree, irritation that she had spotted him and a reluctance for her to see who he was.

“Turn around.” With a sigh, he obeyed. Her eyes widened. “You?” She recovered quickly. “Who are you? Why are you following me?”

He didn’t bother to deny it. Instead, he said, “How in the blazes did you get behind me?”

The corner of her mouth quirked up, her eyes sparkling in amusement. “Like most people, you never think to look up.”

“Damn,” he said more in admiration than annoyance. She hadn’t run around the corner. She’d clambered up a building and followed him, dropping down to ambush him from behind. “I’ve never met anyone who could do the things you do.”

“You never will,” she retorted. “Now, answer my questions. Who are you? What do you want?”