The Last Gamble. Anabelle Bryant

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СКАЧАТЬ calmed herself. Surely men who intended to force themselves on unsuspecting women didn’t knock on the front door to do so. Dark alleyways and dangerous alcoves seemed more the thing. Her thoughts became a jumble of emotion and shredded logic.

      His thunderous knock interrupted her befuddlement and she jumped away from the door as Biscuit produced another string of barks in tune to the staccato of her pulse.

      ‘Please.’

      The word penetrated her fear and everything fell into stillness. The desperation in that one syllable spoke to her heart. Surely an investigator or Bow Street runner would not employ heartfelt sentiment or agonizing plea to beg her attention. Her resolve cracked, whether for the worse or better she could not know, compelled to answer the man.

      She leaned against the door and spoke loud and clear. ‘Meet me in the town square tomorrow morning at ten o’clock. There’s a small corner establishment named Ellen’s Tearoom. I’ll speak to you when I’m safely amidst others.’

      Tea? He would drink poison if it returned Nathaniel to him. Aware Miss Smith watched from the front window, he nodded and left her property straight after. He’d unsettled her enough for one day, so tomorrow would have to suffice. Locked up tight behind her cottage door, he’d failed to gain more than an arranged meeting in town, but wasn’t willing to take the chance he’d spur the young lady into fleeing or sending a message to his half-brother. He had no way to understand her involvement until he pressed her for answers in the morning.

      And that was why, after he’d checked on Snake Eyes and finished a simple meal, he returned to watch the cottage through the evening hours. Miss Smith was the only lifeline he had to Nathaniel at the moment. He had little idea what his half-brother wanted, Dursley’s denial of the abduction a repetitive argument that led to no end. And with no ransom note, extortion attempt or other motivation for Nate’s disappearance, he could only pursue the governess and hope, mayhap pray, a habit he’d never practised, that she knew something to assist his search.

Chapter Three

      Having a nocturnal lifestyle proved its advantages. The ability to prowl about as if invisible was a skill learned as a child on the streets of Charing Cross where Luke would steal fruit and other bits of food without detection. Later, as a grown man, he’d honed the practice to perfection whenever a fast departure proved necessary, out a window or down a trellis to escape an angered husband, often leaving behind a satisfied lady who welcomed his affection but not his reputation.

      He’d watched the cottage until midnight, although a light hadn’t shown in the window since ten in the evening, and then he’d muttered a Good night, Miss Smith and returned to the inn. She was a creature of the daylight and his opposite, no doubt, though he would take no chances.

      Now, as he waited from afar, the governess approached the teashop without the company of her dog, her ungloved hands poised against the simple lines of her day gown. He couldn’t help but notice the soft sashay of her hips, though her face expressed a businesslike demeanour and he wondered again if she worked in collusion with Dursley or was an innocent victim, the same as he.

      ‘Miss Smith, thank you for agreeing to this meeting.’ He pushed from the corner of the teashop and forced a smile, impatience prodding he get their conversation underway.

      ‘How do you know my name?’ She reared back, another layer of defence added to the tightly secured countenance she’d brought to the teashop instead of her pug.

      ‘I’m Mr Reese. Luke, if you’d like. Now that we know each other’s name there’s no room for enmity. I assure you I mean no harm. Let’s find a table and order refreshment while I explain.’ He didn’t leave her time to object and opened the shop door to motion her inside where he obtained a table and requested a pot of tea. How he would have preferred a brandy despite it was barely ten in the morning. When she’d brushed past him at the entrance he’d thought he detected the scent of apricots, but dismissed this as foolishness, most especially when the vibrant interior of the cheerful shop smelled of steeped black tea leaves.

      ‘Very well then. How may I help you, Mr Reese?’ She placed her reticule on the damask tablecloth and he noticed her long, delicate fingers trembled for a reason he could not imagine.

      ‘I’m looking for someone and hope you’ll assist in my search.’

      She waited, not a question on her lips, though he noticed she nibbled the lower one in hesitation or unfounded trepidation.

      ‘My son was taken from me and I need to locate his whereabouts.’ There was no easy way to phrase it and the automatic assumption that he’d done something wrong or perpetuated an offence which had led to the removal of his son was something he was fully prepared to defend. ‘His name is Nathaniel and I believe you may know him.’

      ‘Nate?’ Miss Smith’s eyes lit with instant recognition and his heart nearly leapt from his chest. ‘But that can’t be true.’ She shook away her immediate response. ‘Nathaniel’s father is deceased. His uncle cares for him now.’

      Bloody hell, he would kill his half-brother for that lie.

      ‘That’s not the truth. I am his father.’ He hastily accepted the teapot and service from the shop’s girl, anxious for her to rid the table so he could continue. ‘And I’m desperate to find him. Do you know where he is?’

      ‘I see it now.’ She smiled, seemingly more at ease. ‘The dark hair and light eyes, although yours are almost silver, aren’t they?’ She leaned forward slowly, her eyes matched with his. ‘Nate’s possessed a bluer hue.’

      Engrossed in her description, she appeared unaware how he hung on each word, though his heart overflowed with relief. She knew Nate and possibly his current whereabouts.

      ‘With regret, I haven’t seen Nathaniel in almost a year or else I might be of better assistance.’ She looked down at her cup and took a polite sip of tea.

      Wrong – she didn’t know where Nate was at the moment. His chest grew tight as disappointment and anger were fast to smother hope. Yet all wasn’t lost. ‘Can you tell me everything you know of your interaction and the situation that brought you together?’ He tasted the pungent brew in his cup and again wished for brandy, although Miss Smith seemed pleased enough and daintily wiped her mouth after another sip.

      ‘You must be out of your mind with worry.’ Her features softened and her eyes found his, searching over his face and back again with sincere sympathy.

      She too had lovely blue eyes, almost the same shade as Nate, and long, graceful lashes. Now he viewed her closely, the governess proved quite pretty, some might even suggest fetching, in a fresh, uncontrived manner. He saw compassion in her eyes, and a new understanding of his predicament. Truly the qualities spoke of a genuine soul. ‘Yes. Perhaps with this new knowledge, you’ll excuse my poor manners at your doorstep yesterday.’

      ‘Of course. I had no idea and with worries of my own…’ Her voice trailed off, a signal she did not wish to elaborate. ‘I’m glad to tell you everything I know if it helps you locate your son. Your wife, how is she? She must be inconsolable. By heavens, I would be. The circumstances are terrible.’

      Her honest empathy soothed the unrelenting ache that lived inside him always, the desperate pain of hopelessness that increased each day he was unable to care for Nate, tuck him in at bedtime, hear his laughter or ensure he was safe. His brother had stolen parental privilege and paternal responsibility СКАЧАТЬ