He’d been right.
She’d given herself away by admitting a deep knowledge of Arthurian legend. He’d almost had her in his snare. Though, she must have sensed her own slip because her manner altered again. She had become agitated by degree, casting a nervous glance over her shoulder, just before she announced the need to depart without delay.
Lucien wasn’t about to let her go. He wanted answers. And he had every intention of escorting her back to her party, even if only to cement the point that she couldn’t hide from him.
But then, casual as you please, she’d flashed a grin. And he hated to admit that he had been disarmed by it. His brain had neglected to send the required information to his organs and limbs, leaving him momentarily arrested. Long enough for her to escape before he learned anything of much value.
“She is too clever by half,” he said, his mood in a knot.
“That girl with the old biddies? I think you’re barking up the wrong tree, cousin,” Pell said from the adjacent bench. “She’s far too young to be Lady Avalon. We were hearing rumors of her exploits when you visited London last year. And the infamous adventuress had been seducing men for their fortunes and secrets even before then.”
“Do not be fooled by the careful application of creams and powders. If you’ll recall from the list my investigator provided, the secret formula of a youth serum was among the items she has stolen.”
The report stated that Mr. Sudworth, of the eponymously named Sudworth’s Cosmetics, had been forced to apologize to the ladies of the ton—who’d paid handsomely in advance for the serum—stating that a woman who went by the moniker Lady Avalon had taken him unawares and had stolen the only copy from his safe.
A similar tale had been told by a certain Lord Hunnicutt, who’d discovered that his wife’s diamond tiara had been purloined after a night at the opera with the lady in question. Then there was a banker in Brussels, a shipping magnate in America, a count in Cologne, a marquis in Marseille . . . and the list went on.
Thirteen pages in all. A myriad of treasures and secrets stolen, and none of them with any apparent connection. At least, not yet.
“Perhaps, but we still don’t know to what end.”
Pell’s statement mirrored Lucien’s own frustrated thoughts. “She must be working for someone. A collector of some sort.”
Aye, that must be it, he mused. This villain knew about the legends, too. Lucien wondered about the extent of that knowledge and whether it might aid him in his own quest. He would have to meet him to discover the answer. And in order to do that, he would have to get closer to her. Much closer.
“And the old biddies?”
Distracted by his thoughts, Lucien answered, “It is obvious that Lady Avalon recruited them to act as her shield. Oh, she is quite cunning, to be sure, and not one to be underestimated. Mark my words, behind those crystalline blue eyes lies a wolf in sheep’s clothing.”
“Crystalline?” Pell puffed out a laugh. “Is that a word you’ve just made up?”
“It is from the Greek krustallos, meaning crystal, and dating back to the fifteenth century.” And there was no more apt word to describe the startlingly clear, pale blue color.
“I thought you said she broke your spectacles. So how do you even know the color of her eyes?”
“Because I remember them from when we first met and my spectacles were still intact,” Lucien growled beneath his breath. He detested being bothered by pointless questions.
Thankfully, his vision impairment was only with objects that were near. He could see quite clearly from a distance, like the way she’d just glanced surreptitiously over her shoulder as if to ensure she wasn’t being followed before climbing into her carriage.
But damn, he wished he’d had his corrective lenses in place when they’d stood together a few moments ago. He wanted to catalog every look that crossed her face, note every subtle shift and twitch so that he would be armed with all the information he needed to discover the man she worked for. Given time, he knew she would give something away.
For now, however, they were engaged in a subtle dance of accusation and subterfuge.
So she claimed that he’d met his match? Well, he would soon prove that she had met hers.
“By the by, what color are my eyes?”
“They are—” Lucien stopped. “I refuse to respond to such an inane and insufferably provoking question when you and I are both aware of the answer.”
“Do you know what I think?”
“That it still boggles your mind when two plus two equals four?”
“My cousin, the wit,” Pell said dryly. “But you cannot hide behind your droll humor, because I think Lady Avalon has sparked your interest.”
“You are delusional. All I want are those recipes and the name of the man she’s working for. Nothing more.”
And yet, he was surprised to recall the initial response he’d had when she’d hurled herself against him. Shock, of course. And then . . . something else.
The moment played through his senses with perfect precision—the feel of her body against his, the precise dimensions of the dip in her lower back as he’d pulled her close to keep her from falling, the warmth and softness of her breasts as she crushed the fist that held his glasses, the rush of breath escaping her lips as she looked up and saw him—
He shook his head. It was ridiculous to ponder over it or wonder why it felt as though her form had left an indelible stamp upon his own. He was the Duke of Merleton. His sole focus was to secure these pieces of his family heritage.
He refused to let a woman distract him with her charms.
No, indeed, for he knew her coy game. And if she thought for a minute that a pair of broken spectacles would keep him from following her, then she had underestimated her latest adversary.
“Suit yourself,” Pell said offhandedly, easing back against the squabs. “All we need to do is follow her and her luggage, and then we’ll soon have possession of the book.”
Lucien shook his head. “It will not be that simple. I could send a man to search their trunks, but he won’t find anything. She would not be that careless. No, indeed. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have such an illustrious career as a master thief. We will need to keep a close eye on her and take careful note of everyone she encounters. And I’m beginning to wonder if the objects she has stolen were chosen at random or if there is a pattern,” he said, sensing that he was on the cusp of unearthing something that would alter the course of his life. “A little more time with her is all I’ll need.”
Pell was silent for a moment, scrutinizing Lucien’s profile. “Are you certain this isn’t merely an excuse to bump into her again?”
He ignored the comment. “Whoever hired her could simply be a fanatic of the old legend, but I don’t think so. It seems more like the plot of a military man, one with a particular appetite for power.”
“Well, if your plan is to meet her again and learn her secrets, you might want to tame that prickly and obdurate nature of yours. At least pretend to be affable. More flies with honey, and all that.”
That old adage might be true. But Lucien wasn’t interested in flies. He wanted to lure a wolf into the open. And as the carriage set off in pursuit, he began to formulate a plan.