The Mystery of Mr Daventry (Scandalous Sons 4)

He reached into his fob pocket and withdrew the ring containing four iron keys. “Follow me. Stay close.” He sensed her hesitation as he led her behind the garden house and unlocked the wooden gate in the brick wall.

Miss Atwood remained so close he could smell the sweet scent of her rose perfume. “I assume your neighbour knows you have access to his garden.”

“Whether he does or not is immaterial considering I own this house, too.” Lucius locked the gate behind them and pushed through the darkness. “Besides, I bought the section of land that runs the length of the row. Consequently, all the gardens are shorter, and I have a hidden escape route.”

The lady stopped and observed the high hedgerow blocking the view of his neighbour’s house. “So this is a secret alley?”

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bsp; Lucius unlocked the gate leading to the next garden. “It provides a means of escape without alerting the spies watching my door.” And it gave him an advantage when surprising hired thugs loitering in the mews.

He was about to step through into the next garden when Miss Atwood touched his arm. “You’ve taken some rather drastic measures in the name of safety.” The words brimmed with concern. “Living cautiously must take its toll. I should know. Following you secretly through town these last few weeks has been exhausting. Have you lived like this since my father’s death?”

He had lived like this since he was a boy of eight and believed a wicked devil had entered his home and stolen his mother away. He had lived like this since being hounded for his illegitimacy at school. Since joining the Order of Themis and gaining more enemies.

“Someone betrayed your father. I mean to stay alive long enough to string the blighter up on a makeshift scaffold.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

He glanced at the dainty hand resting on his sleeve. The soothing touch might easily tear a confession from his lips. “I suggest we stop talking lest we alert every resident in the street of our presence.”

“Of course.”

Her hand slipped to her side, and he felt the loss instantly.

They crept through the gardens until they reached the last house. From there, they entered the mews.

Wisps of mist reduced visibility by a sufficient degree for them to exit the mews unnoticed. Despite grave reservations, he captured Miss Atwood’s hand. “Hold on to my arm. I intend to move quickly.”

She offered no objection.

Every nerve in his body sparked to life when her fingers wrapped around his bicep, but he convinced himself that playing protector formed the basis of these confounding emotions. He owed Atticus Atwood his life, and though his mentor was beyond the grave, Lucius lived to make him proud.

A few brisk strides brought them out onto Avery Row. Seeing the hulking shadow of the hackney roused a modicum of relief.

“Evenin’, governor.” The jarvey—a fellow with ruddy cheeks and a bulbous nose—tipped his hat. “Back to Half Moon Street, is it?”

Lucius kept his attention trained on the hackney driver, looking for telltale signs that said a man was not who he claimed. “What street runs parallel with Soho Square?”

“What street?” The jarvey pursed his lips in contemplation. “To the east or west?”

“West.”

“That would be Dean Street.”

“Why are we going to Dean Street?” Miss Atwood whispered.

“We’re not.” The reasoning behind his question would soon become apparent. “And the street connecting London Wall and Long Alley?”

The jarvey frowned. “You mean Brokers Row?”

“Take us to the north side of Curzon Street.” From there, it was a few minutes’ walk to Miss Atwood’s home. It would give Lucius an opportunity to know if someone trailed them from the shadows. “I’ll rap the roof when we wish to alight.”

Despite wearing a deep frown, the driver nodded.

Lucius threw the man a sovereign for the inconvenience and assisted Miss Atwood into the vehicle.

In the dark confines of the cab, he was acutely aware of the lady’s penetrating stare pinning him to the seat. “You doubted the driver’s identity?”