Page 26 of The Detective and the Baroness

“You! Miserable wretch, you are supposed to be dead, burnt to a cinder! By Jove, you have the luck of the very devil.”

“Maybe it is the devil’s luck. But no one is to know I’m alive. Not yet. You follow? Speak of it to anyone, and I will tear those ample guts from your body and place them around your corpse for the rats to feast on.”

Darrington clutched his walking stick and tapped Jedi none-to-gently on the chest. “Stop with the threats, for they are useless against me. We’ve done business for years. Why would I jeopardize that? Speak sense. You’re reclaiming your foothold in Notting Dale, are you not? I have several items to shift, and you have always been the best man for the job.”

“Eventually. But I’ve other business to attend to first. I need you to find out some information for me.”

“Hmm. Like what?”

“I want to know everything there is to know about the new Baron Addington. I also want a history of the barony, financial and otherwise, and anything you can tell me about the previous baron as well.”

The earl scoffed. “You aren’t asking for much. That will take some doing. How do I get word to you?”

“You don’t,” Jedi snapped.

“Very well. Come to my apartment here in Hampstead in ten days. You’ve been there before. Come under the cover of night, mind. Let us say, nine of the clock. Now, let me pass.”

Jedi stepped aside, and Darrington stopped in front of him. “I advise you not to stay dead for long, or I will take my business to Lucian Sharpe in what is left of the Devil’s Acre.” Darrington gave him a smug smile. “They will be clearing out the remaining nest of vipers within the next year. Same with your rookery in Notting Dale. Clearances are coming. There soon will be no place left for you scurvy lot to do business. Shame, that.” Darrington laughed as he exited the alley.

Lucian Sharpe.

He was younger than Jedi but just as ruthless. They were rivals but stayed out of each other’s business and territory. But if things became more difficult… Well, he’d deal with that when the time came.

First things first. To find out about the barony.

And collect what he was owed. By whatever means necessary.

Chapter Ten

Mitchell arrived promptly at three o’clock Saturday afternoon and was shown into the sitting room. As always, Corrine, looking exquisite, greeted him warmly.

After they sat, Corrine prepared his tea and handed him the cup and saucer. Good God, he could easily get used to this, sitting in the parlor, conversing and drinking tea with her. Mitchell briefly closed his eyes, imagining Corrine waiting for him after his shift, eager to share how they passed their day while anticipating how they would pass their night. In bed. But the image dissipated, for it was only a dream. His eyes popped open as reality crashed in all around him—the stark truth of her married state.

“Mitchell?”

“I do apologize. Did you say something?”

“Yes. I asked what is in the paper bag you brought?”

Flushing furiously, he handed it to her. Instead of bringing flowers as any courting swain may do, Mitchell had brought her baked goods. “Ginger biscuits from the seller on Carol Street. I saw how you broke your biscuits into pieces and gave them to the children. So I thought you might like some for yourself.”

Corrine opened the bag, then looked up and caught his gaze. “How thoughtful. Thank you.” She reached in and grabbed one. Taking a bite, she chewed and swallowed. Even watching her eat had his insides tumbling with desire. “These are lovely. They melt in the mouth. Here, have one with your tea.” Corrine held the bag toward him.

Leaning forward, he took one and bit into it. “That is a quality biscuit. It’s way above what you usually find in a street cart.”

“You should tell Mr. Hallahan. Maybe he can offer the seller some business. I take it Mr. Hallahan is more of a cook than a baker.”

“I get that impression. I’ll do as you suggest. Now, to business.”

Corrine held up her hand. “Before you give your report, I wish to tell you of an odd encounter. I apologize for not telling you of this sooner, but it flew out of my head with everything going on. It took place the first day you came here. About fifteen minutes after you departed, Thomason told me that a man insisted on seeing the baron. When I opened the door, there stood a stranger wearing a long, hooded cloak—”

This time, Mitchell could not keep the spray of tea from leaving his mouth. Thankfully, it only landed on the front of his wool coat. How mortifying.

Corrine jumped to her feet and hurried to his side. Holding a handkerchief, she brushed at his coat. He gently clasped her hand. Again, heat rolled through him at the touch of her silky skin. “I’m fine, thank you. Please take your seat.”

She handed him the cloth and sat, a look of concern on her face.

“Tell me everything.” Mitchell scrubbed the tea from his coat and placed the damp cloth on the table. “Tell me of the conversation, what he looked like. Because on the day I followed the baron here, a man in a hooded cloak lurked about the street.”