Chapter Fourteen

A LADY HERE TO SEE YOU, INSPECTOR, SIR. SHE SAYS it’s most important.”

Lewis scowled at the obsequious young police constable standing nervously before him.

Everyone at Metropolitan Police Headquarters, otherwise known as Scotland Yard, was in the throes of anointing Lewis as the brilliant young detective responsible for finally catching the infamous Dark Shadow. He had gone from being a laughingstock to being a hero—at least amongst the police and the victims of the elusive jewel thief. Journalists had been crowded outside the building for two days, waiting impatiently for further details surrounding Lord Bryden’s capture. Unfortunately, they also wanted to know more about Lewis, including personal details about his upbringing, his marital status, and, appallingly, the precise nature of his injury. It was this sudden, wholly unexpected invasion of his privacy that had caused Lewis to retreat to his desk after his initial announcement to the press. Let Chief Inspector Holloway make the statements, he thought acidly. The chief apparently enjoyed standing about pontificating about how he had seen to it that London was a safer place to live, as if he were personally responsible for Lord Bryden’s capture.

“Who is she?” demanded Lewis.

“A Miss Annie Clarke, sir,” replied the young officer. “She claims to know you. She says she met you one night at the home of Miss Charlotte Kent.”

Lewis instantly forgot about the clutter of papers and assorted pieces of evidence on his desk. “Where is she?” he managed, fumbling with the buttons of his rumpled brown coat.

“Waiting out front, on the bench in front of Sergeant Jeffrey’s desk. If you like I can escort her to you—”

“That won’t be necessary.” Lewis grabbed his walking stick and began to hobble toward the front desk, grimacing as he fought the pulse of pain that snaked down his thigh every time he put pressure on it. His face felt a little flushed, which he hoped wasn’t noticeable. He would have to make some comment about the heat of the day, when he saw her, just in case. He didn’t want her to see him limping toward her and think he was about to faint.

“Good afternoon, Miss Clarke,” he said, affecting a bland formality that he hoped masked his powerful attraction to her the instant he saw her.

She was far lovelier than he remembered. The bruising around her eye had faded, and she regarded him with wide, intelligent eyes that seemed to delve deep into him, searching and assessing. There was no fear there, yet he sensed that there was no judgment, either, or if there was, it was not the scornfully dismissive type she had hurled at him the night he had refused to go after the man who had beaten her. He had long regretted his decision to not at least take some steps to find that bastard. What on earth could she have thought of him that night, except that he was an uncaring prick who didn’t give a damn when a man smashed his fists into a helpless girl? He met her gaze with feigned calm, trying not to let her see the effect she was having upon him.

“Good afternoon, Inspector,” she replied politely.

Annie rose from the hard little bench on which she had been seated, trying her best to remember all the proper manners that Charlotte had attempted to teach her. She felt completely ill at ease in the legal confines of Scotland Yard, with all those bacon-faced peelers staring down their noses at her. She was dressed in one of Charlotte’s day gowns, with a prim bodice that buttoned all the way up to her neck, long, slightly puffed sleeves, and a generously full skirt that swished importantly about her as she walked. She was also wearing one of Charlotte’s hats. At first she had thought it was a bit plain, but once Charlotte and Doreen had pinned her hair up and then set the hat into place, Annie had to agree that it was actually rather elegant on her. She had been surprised by how nice and ladylike she looked. Charlotte’s clothes made her feel a bit different—almost as if she were a woman of quality, instead of just a fashionably dressed whore. Former whore, she reminded herself adamantly. She sensed that people were looking at her differently as well. Certainly Inspector Lewis seemed to be staring at her a bloody sight different than the night he’d found her standing all drenched and bruised and ranting in the rain.

“I’m sorry about your leg.” She bit her lower lip, suddenly uncertain as to how she was supposed to act. Inspector Turner was far more pleasing to look at than she had remembered, a fact that was making her feel decidedly wobbly inside. “It ain’t too bad, is it?”

“No,” he assured her. “It isn’t too bad.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” Annie glanced about, feeling as if everyone in the entire police headquarters was staring at them.

“Would you like to take a short walk?” Lewis had briefly considered escorting her back to his desk, but he did not have his own office, and Annie had already attracted enough attention there. Taking her for a walk was the only way they could speak privately without compromising her reputation.

He tried not to contemplate exactly what that reputation was.

“A walk would be nice,” she replied.

“If you don’t mind, we’ll leave by one of the doors at the back of the building,” Lewis suggested, recalling that there was probably still a flock of journalists waiting out front.

She pressed her lips into a tight line. Obviously he was embarrassed by the prospect of being seen in public with her. “If ye like.”

Lewis thought he saw a flicker of anger burning in her gaze. Did she not understand he was trying to protect her privacy as well? Bemused by her reaction, he escorted her to the back of the building, trying hard to ignore the curious stares that followed them. He told himself the police officers and detectives were only fascinated by Annie because she was so strikingly pretty. Also, he had just solved the case of the Dark Shadow; therefore, everything he did was suddenly of interest to them. Even as he ran these rationalizations through his mind, logic dictated that he at least acknowledge the more obvious reason for their stares.

Annie radiated pure sexuality.

It permeated the lush curves of her body, the soft scallops of her mouth, the easy, compelling sway of her hips. She was not dressed provocatively, for which Lewis was enormously grateful, nor had she dabbed any artificial color on her cheeks or lips. Nevertheless, there was something about her that was overwhelmingly, intoxicatingly alluring.

Or did he just think that because he was so drawn to her?

“That’s better,” he said, escorting her out the door and into a brilliant wash of sunlight. “Now we won’t have any prying journalists to contend with as we make our way down the street.”

Annie looked at him in surprise. “Was that why ye wanted us to slip out back, then? On account of them?”

“They’ve been making my life a misery since they heard the news about my encounter with Lord Bryden the night before last,” Lewis explained. “They want to know where I was born, who my parents were, what does my father think about me being a detective. One of them even had the nerve to ask my how much money I make a year, as if that were any of their damn business. I bloody well wanted to throttle him.”

He stopped suddenly, wondering if he should have used profanity in her presence. She appeared not to have noticed, or if she had, she was electing not to make an issue of it. He liked that. Even so, he would have to be more careful. He did not want her to think that he was speaking crudely in front of her because he didn’t respect her enough to behave like a gentleman.

“Next time tell ’em to mind their own bloody business,” Annie advised, “or ye’ll put a fist in their bone box.”

“Somehow I don’t think my chief inspector would approve of such candor,” Lewis reflected, amused by her straightforwardness. “The police force has borne a lot of mockery and criticism in the past few months. Now that the Dark Shadow has been caught, the chief wants to enjoy the moment to the utmost.”

Annie fixed her gaze onto the street and said nothing.

Lewis regarded her uncertainly. He wondered if she would accept his arm if he offered it, or refuse it because she lumped him in with all the other peelers who clearly made her feel ill at ease. Deciding to take a chance, he offered her his arm.

Annie looked up at him in surprise. She supposed he was only doing the gentlemanly thing. Even so, she found herself extremely pleased that despite the fact that he was a peeler, he respected her enough to pretend she was a lady, at least in front of others. She laid her gloved hand against his sleeve, lightly, the way Charlotte had instructed her to if ever a gentleman might offer his arm to her. The hard muscle of his arm flinched as her fingers grazed it. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. Mindful of the fact that he was limping, she began to walk slowly with him down the street.

“When I heard ye’d been shot, I imagined the worst,” she confessed. “I thought ye’d snuffed it, for sure. I was glad to hear ye hadn’t.”

“I was lucky.” It pleased Lewis to think that she had actually been worried about him. “The bullet only hit me in the leg.”

“Will it heal all right?”

“Yes.” He didn’t want her to think that he would be limping about with a cane forever.

“Well, that’s a mercy.” She looked away, feigning a sudden fascination with a carriage that was clattering down the street. “Yer wife must have been awful scared.”

“I’m not married.”

She glanced back at him. “Ye ain’t?”

“No.” He thought he detected a trace of relief in her eyes. Or was he just imagining that because he wanted to believe she might actually be interested in him?

“Why did you come to see me today, Miss Clarke?” He studied her a moment, watching the reluctant tightening of her pretty little mouth. “Did Miss Kent send you?”

“In a manner of speakin’, yes,” Annie admitted. “She wanted me to ask ye somethin’. But I also wanted to come and see ye as well,” she swiftly added, “just to see for myself that ye wasn’t hurt too bad.”

“I’m moved by your concern.” His tone was slightly arid. He knew it was absurd to think that Annie had come just to see him. She had not been thinking feverishly about him night and day. She probably had a long line of men waiting to sample her various charms, her stay at Miss Kent’s house of refuge not withstanding. “What did Miss Kent want you to ask me?”

“It’s a bit of a favor, really.” Annie could feel his sudden coolness. She wished she hadn’t been there to ask anything of him. She wished she had only been there to go for a walk with him, to stroll along in the summer sunshine, her big skirts swishing along the sidewalk, venturing a polite smile now and again at the other gentlemen and ladies passing them, as if she were a proper lady.

“Go on.”

“It’s just that Miss Kent is sure Lord Bryden ain’t the man ye’re lookin’ for,” she blurted out suddenly. “She swears he ain’t the Dark Shadow. Only now that ye’ve got his lordship in the coop, she’s sure the real Dark Shadow will never be caught. She thinks he knew Lord Bryden was tryin’ to nab him, an’ now that ye’ve got Lord Bryden instead, the real Dark Shadow will just go about his regular life, laughin’ all the way to his grave while his lordship gets stretched for his crimes.”

So that was it, Lewis mused. Miss Kent’s relationship with Lord Bryden must have been just as intimate as the facts had suggested on the night Lewis watched her visit his home in the middle of the night. He wasn’t surprised by that, given her insistence upon seeing Lord Bryden in prison the previous day. While Lewis could find no evidence that the two had ever met prior to Bryden taking her hostage at Lord Chadwick’s house—assuming that the masked man was Bryden—Lewis was now convinced that Miss Kent had played a vital role in helping Bryden escape that night. What he found most intriguing was that two people of such opposite character and background could be so attracted to one another. Lord Bryden was confident, bold, outspoken, and had once enjoyed a reputation for seducing some of London’s greatest beauties. Miss Kent was hardly the kind of woman with whom he typically dallied. She was a shy, fading, crippled spinster from crude beginnings, who would never be accepted amongst the aristocratic society she had been brought into. He found himself wondering if Bryden actually cared for her, or if he had merely used her to help him escape and advance his own ends.

“And just how is it that Miss Kent can be so entirely certain of Lord Bryden’s innocence?” he asked.

“I ain’t sure,” Annie admitted. “She wouldn’t tell me that. And I don’t know enough about Lord Bryden to say whether it’s true or not. I mean, ye did see him shoot ye while ye was lyin’ helpless. Why would he do such a filthy thing if he ain’t the Dark Shadow?”

Lewis didn’t answer. He couldn’t, because he hadn’t actually been conscious when he was shot, as Lord Bryden had so aptly pointed out.

“All I know for certain is that Miss Kent is as fine a lady as ye’re ever like to meet,” Annie continued fiercely. “She’s different from everyone I’ve known—an’ I’ve known plenty.” She cast him a challenging look, making it clear that she made no apology for her life. “She’s lived with the lowest, blackest scum ye could imagine, an’ the highest, fanciest swells. She’s even been locked in prison herself, though ye’d never know it to look at her. And she knows ye have to look down deep to really see what a person’s about. An’ if she’s looked down deep inside Lord Bryden and says it ain’t in him to murder, then I believe her. I ain’t sayin’ ye should just toss his lordship out the door and that’s that, or nothin’ like that,” she swiftly clarified. “He must have been up to somethin’, bein’ at Lord Whitaker’s house in the middle of the night, and then shootin’ ye when ye was helpless. But Miss Charlotte says ye’ll never catch the real Dark Shadow if Lord Bryden hangs. If ye’re a man of justice, ye should at least make sure ye hang the right man, or else his soul will haunt ye to yer grave.”

Lewis was silent a moment, giving no indication that the possibility of Lord Bryden’s innocence had ever crossed his mind.

In fact it had been nagging at him constantly in the long hours since he had faced Bryden at Newgate.

He considered himself a good detective. He noticed details, whether when examining the scene of a crime, analyzing a course of events, or questioning a witness. His penchant for accurate record-keeping helped him to keep facts straight, instead of distorting or embellishing them, as many other detectives and police constables were prone to do. He was also extremely logical, at least when it came to criminal matters. And despite the fact that most of the evidence pointed to Lord Bryden, Lewis could not deny that many pieces simply did not fit together. Moreover, he could not dispute Bryden’s argument that there really had not been any need to shoot Lewis, given that he was unconscious and he couldn’t possibly have identified whoever was behind the Dark Shadow’s mask anyway. But what bothered him most was the fact that he considered himself a reasonably astute judge of character.

And something kept telling him that Lord Bryden was not the kind of man who would take the life of another over a few pieces of jewelry.

“If Miss Kent doesn’t expect me to release Lord Bryden, then just what, exactly, are you asking me to do?”

Annie looked up at him in surprise. His expression had been so dark as they walked along, she had thought she had succeeded only in making him angry. Now she understood he had looked that way because he had been thinking. She liked the fact that he was a man who took the time to think before he spoke. Almost every other man she had ever known had exploded with either lust or fury long before he ever took a minute to actually use his brain. It made her feel a little awkward that she wasn’t as smart or as schooled as him, but when she was with him he didn’t do anything to make her feel the lesser for it. She knew a peeler like him would never consider having an honest interest in a whore like her—even a whore who was set on changing her ways. She’d known plenty of girls who quiffed their share of peelers, but it was always so the bastards would leave them alone to earn their trade. Inspector Turner hadn’t made any unseemly advances toward her, though. If anything, he was treating her as if she were a proper lady, offering her his arm and walking along the street with her for all of London to see. Of course he had only agreed to see her because of her association with Miss Charlotte, and the fact that he suspected Miss Charlotte knew more about Lord Bryden and the Dark Shadow than she was letting on. Even so, it was awfully prime to be out strolling in his company, with her hand resting comfortably on his strong arm and him talking to her as if he actually gave a damn what she was thinking.

“We need to set a trap,” Annie told him. “An’ we need to do it fast. If the real Dark Shadow thinks Lord Bryden is about to swing for his crimes, he may just decide to pack up and leave London till it’s all over and done. He may even leave for good.”

“Assuming there is another thief, he may just decide to sit back and do nothing, and wait for Bryden to hang.”

“Either way, he goes free while his lordship dangles,” Annie complained fiercely, shaking her head. “It ain’t right. We need to make him think that Lord Bryden has got off. If Miss Kent is right an’ the Dark Shadow was tryin’ to pin his crimes on his lordship, then if he thinks Lord Bryden’s been let go, he’ll probably want to do somethin’ more to get him arrested again. Miss Kent’s got an idea, which she thinks will bring the Dark Shadow runnin’ to his lordship like a cat to a kipper. Ye need to make sure ye’ve got lots of peelers about to catch him when he does.”

Lewis nodded and leaned a little closer into her, ostensibly so that no one would overhear their conversation. The delicate scent of orange water filled his nostrils. He would not have thought an experienced girl like Annie would have opted for such a sweetly modest fragrance. Perhaps Miss Kent would actually succeed in her attempted reformation of Annie’s battered life.

He sincerely hoped so.

“Tell me more,” he murmured, hoping he wasn’t about to make the biggest mistake of his career.