Dark Angel (Gentlemen of the Order 4)

Mr D’Angelo’s full lips curled into a slow smile. “To say I’m impressed by your investigative skills would be an understatement, Miss Sands.”

A sudden rush of excitement stole her breath. Earning Mr D’Angelo’s respect was key to her plan. “When one has to fight for survival, it pays to be shrewd.”

In truth, she was merely lucky. Lucky, Alice had found her when she did. Lucky, she’d not been stolen off the street and put to service.

“Oh, you’re shrewd, Miss Sands.” Despite his compliment, his intimidating aura left her slightly unnerved. “Shrewd enough to afford a gown that must have cost more than a few months’ pay. Shrewd enough to gain entrance to a ball for degenerates when I know Daventry would not have secured an invitation.”

“You sound as if you distrust me, sir.”

“Do not be offended. I distrust most people.”

Well, she would have to change that. Perhaps a good dose of honesty was the cure.

“The dress belongs to Miss Trimble. The lady employed to run the house in Howland Street.” Miss Trimble owned an assortment of clothes and disguises, all items a lady might use when conducting an investigation. “She disapproves of me attending Mr Babington’s ball, hence why she is waiting outside in the carriage Mr Daventry provided for our use. She told me a lady with poise and confidence could walk into a king’s court without an invitation. And she was right.”

“Did Daventry provide the coachman?”

“Of course.”

Mr D’Angelo gave a knowing nod. “Then Daventry will know exactly where you’ve been tonight. I’ll wager the coachman is skilled in combat and carries a brace of pistols, wager Miss Trimble is employed to keep Daventry informed of your whereabouts.”

“Mr Daventry considers the safety of all his agents,” she said. According to Miss Trimble, he was particularly concerned about the captivating gentleman of Italian heritage.

Mr D’Angelo narrowed his gaze. “What are you really doing here, Miss Sands? Another motive drives you, not the need to put food on the table or prove yourself in a man’s world, but something else.”

Panic forced Beatrice to her feet. The gentleman’s insight was remarkable.

“Might I suggest we postpone any discussion of a personal nature until we’ve found something to incriminate Mr Babington? Time is of the essence, Mr D’Angelo.”

“And what if we need to hide in a dark corner?” He stood, his countenance turning somewhat arrogant as he straightened to his full height. “Will you tremble in terror? Will you claw at my back, gasp, and give the game away?”

Her hackles rose at the mere hint of condescension. “Do not press your body against mine, sir, and there shall be no problem.”

“You should take it as a compliment. Most women would beg to have me thrust them up against a topiary hedge, and yet I chose you.”

She laughed. “You did not choose me. I stalked after you along a moonlit path. I sought you out because it seems ridiculous not to work together when we’re investigating the same case.”

He bent his head, and in a husky voice whispered, “But if I could have chosen any woman from the ballroom to push against, Miss Sands, it would have been you.”

Oh, the man was a devil and a tease.

Miss Trimble had warned her to stay on her guard.

“Well, I’m liable to attack any man who so much as tries, and I doubt Mr Daventry wants fighting amongst the ranks.”

Wearing a rakish grin, he brushed his hand through his brown shoulder-length hair. “Then I’ll have to see what I can do to help you curb your temper. Now, back to the matter of Babington. We should—”

“I shall search Mr Babington’s study while you examine his bedchamber.”

“I’m not leaving you to wander the house alone. Perhaps you’re unaware, but there are a few rogues out to seduce you tonight.”

Seduce her? And she thought she had blended into the crowd.

“We’ll both search the study,” she conceded, else they would be locked in a battle of wills until dawn. “Though after your needless attempt to protect my reputation, I don’t suppose you’ll want anyone seeing us together.”

Mr D’Angelo moved to stand beside her. “I shall enter the study. Wait outside until I raise the sash.”

“Outside? You expect me to climb through a window while wearing a ball gown?”