Risking the Detective (The Bluestocking Scandals Book 6) Page 4

  “Miss Castleton, you should not be here, in this neighborhood, alone.”

  Her eyes widened. “This is the Bow Street Magistrate’s Office — I can hardly think of a safer place in all of London!”

  “In that, you are right, of course,” he relented. “However, it is the getting here that I am more concerned about.”

  “I have men with me who will always ensure my safety,” she said. “It is none of your concern.”

  “On the contrary, Miss Castleton. You have just hired me to do exactly this — keep you safe.”

  If it was possible, she rose up even taller.

  “Let me be clear then, Drake. I have hired you not to look after me, but to determine who is doing my business harm. My hope is that you are able to catch the culprit and to inform me as to who it is. I also hope that you will be able to do so expediently, before my father returns and as our factory continues to bolster our inventory. Understood?”

  He did not enjoy being ordered about by the woman, but he swallowed the simmering ball of ire.

  “Understood, Miss Castleton.”

  “Very good. Before I leave, then, perhaps we should make a plan to visit Jeremiah Treacle.”

  “I already said, Miss Castleton, I will—”

  But then he caught the look on her face — the one that held an arched eyebrow, her gaze down her nose as she regarded him as she likely would an errant supplier.

  “Very well,” he grumbled. “Tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow,” she said with a firm nod. “I will meet you at Treacle Stone.”

  “No. We’ll meet at the Castleton factory and we will go together,” he said, just as firmly.

  For a moment, they sat there, their eyes locked in a silent battle of wills once more, until finally, he relented. She was, after all, the client here.

  “Very well,” he sighed. “I will meet you there.”

  She rose and glided to the door, her skirts swaying behind her.

  It took everything within Drake not to watch her leave.

  As it happened, however, she had just reached the door when it opened for her, and the messenger called out, “A package for Drake!” which, mercifully, captured the whole of his attention.

  “I’m Drake,” he answered, passing the man a shilling as he took the box, carrying it back to his desk, forgetting, for a moment, about Miss Castleton and her surprising, silent strength.

  “What is it?” Marshall called out, but Drake couldn’t answer.

  He was too busy staring at what the box before him contained.

  Chapter 5

  Madeline folded her white gloved hands in front of her as she took deep breaths while staring at the door of Treacle Stone.

  She had been here only once since Jeremiah Treacle had taken over the business, but that had been with her father.

  They had not been well received. She could hardly bear to imagine how Treacle would welcome her today, without her father accompanying her.

  Madeline was aware that most men did not see a place for women in business.

  But it was hard to consider how a man could be more vocal about such thoughts than Jeremiah Treacle.

  She looked around busy Holburn Street for the detective. Her visit to Bow Street yesterday had been quite the revelation.

  For she now realized just what motivated Drake. Money. She supposed it motivated everyone to some extent, although she was somewhat surprised. He had seemed the type who would be more encouraged by righting the wrongs of the world.

  Which was why he had likely taken so long to come around. Her little problem would have seemed insignificant to him.

  A thought suddenly occurred to her. What if he didn’t show up today? What was she to do then? She rubbed at her temples as she decided she would simply have to take this on and face Jeremiah Treacle herself.

  Although that was the last thing in the world she had any wish to do.

  Conflict was not something Madeline Castleton relished.

  To such an extent that it had nearly killed her.

  But that was the past. This was now. Now she was going to run a business, and she was going to run it well.

  “Miss Castleton?”

  “Drake!” she exclaimed, whirling around to face him. “You startled me.”

  “You were in the midst of a daydream of some sort,” he noted correctly, and heat filled her cheeks at her fanciful thoughts.

  “I was ruminating, is all. Now, what is our plan?”

  “Our plan?”

  “Do not all detectives have a plan when they are questioning a subject?”

  “I have a plan, yes, Miss Castleton. But that does not involve you. You can simply observe.”

  “I hardly think that will work!” she exclaimed, shocked that he would be so dense. He was supposed to be a brilliant man. “He knows who I am and will wonder why I am here, accompanying a detective. You do not mean to simply ask him straight out if he is at fault? That will never do, not at all.”

  “Do you have another suggestion?”

  “I do, as a matter of fact,” she said, pleased that he had asked, although she was well aware that he had done so sarcastically. “I was thinking that you could pretend to be a new partner of Castleton Stone. We can tell Treacle that we have a proposition for him.”

  “Oh, do we?” Drake said, although he couldn’t completely hide his interest in her idea.

  “We will tell him that we have a project we have been commissioned for, but that we do not currently have the capacity to complete it, and that we are suggesting a partnership. We can then see how he feels about our business, determine how successful his own is at the moment, and see if he knows anything at all about why we do not currently have the ability to take this on ourselves.”

  Madeline thought that flicker on Drake’s face just might have been a hint of admiration.

  “Not a bad plan,” he muttered.

  “So?” she asked, “can you do it?”

  He grunted. “Of course I can do it. After you, Miss Castleton.”

  As they stepped into the building, Madeline couldn’t help but compare the front lobby and the product within it to her own. From her recollections, Treacle Stone had always nearly — nearly — matched Castleton Stone in quality. But this selection of statues in the front gallery was subpar, the stone less than ordinary, chips here and there, the stone already failing. Jeremiah, it seemed, was cutting costs. Well, all the more clients for Castleton Stone, she decided.

  She approached the clerk behind the desk, asking to see Mr. Treacle. When he asked who was there to visit, she simply said, “An admirer,” and sensed Drake looking at her.

  “You didn’t think he would see you?”

  “I couldn’t be sure,” she murmured. “He does not like dealing with women. Perhaps you should take the lead.”

  She didn’t want to tell him that her heart was hammering against her chest, and while she was determined to be there, she didn’t know how firm she could be in her resolve to wrest information from Treacle — particularly when she was well aware of the disdain that would be on his face as he regarded her.

  Disdain she saw now as he stepped into the room.

  “Miss Madeline Castleton,” he said, a sneer that began on his lips and rolled off with his words, “or do you still prefer Lady Donning?”

  His prominent teeth emerged then as he laughed long and loud, and Madeline went rigid, wishing a witty comeback would spring to her lips, but her normally full mind went blank.

  “Let’s go,” Drake said, nodding his head to the door as he looked at her, apparently ignoring Treacle. “It doesn’t appear that he has any interest in our proposal. We shall find another who is not so crude.”

  “A proposal?” Treacle said, lifting a brow as dark as the oily black hair on his head. “Have you not had enough of those, Miss Castleton? I must say, I am shocked to hear that you are still involved in Castleton Stone. If there is one thing a person needs to properly run a business, that is intuition
and good judgment, is it not? And you, quite clearly, lack what is required. Then again, you are a woman, so I suppose you could be forgiven. It is not your fault.”

  Madeline was a statue. A useless, stone statue, which did nothing but break when knocked over.

  For he was right. She did lack judgment. She did lack intuition. The only thing he was wrong about was that it was because she was a woman. For many women possessed both traits in spades, with the additional components of bravery and backbone added in — just look at Alice, or Alice’s sister-in-law, Lady Essex, and her friends.

  “I will come back alone,” Drake muttered in Madeline’s ear, too low for Treacle to hear. “You should not be subjected to this.”

  Madeline finally forced herself to move, even if it was just shaking her head. If she was going to prove herself, then she had to overcome the worst that could be thrown at her — and there had been far worse than Jeremiah Treacle.

  “It’s fine,” she said, although her voice was hardly more than a whisper. “I can do this.”

  But she couldn’t seem to think of anymore to say. How was she to deny the truth of his words? How was she to pretend to be something she wasn’t? She had never been the kind of woman who could put on a façade, who could provide a front that the world would accept. When she was happy, those with her knew by her laugh, her smile, her carefree nature.

  When she was upset, all knew as well.

  Just look at last year — everyone had been aware that she was in trouble before she herself did.

  Drake ran his eyes down her, from her likely furrowed brow to her hands, which were clasped so tightly together she knew the skin across her knuckles would be tight and strained beneath her gloves.

  His assessment of her concluded, he seemed convinced of her readiness, and he nodded shortly at her before turning around.

  “Treacle,” he said, his words short and clipped, as though he didn’t have time to pander to the man. “We are here to present a mutually beneficial idea to you. Should you not have the inclination to even hear our offer, then we will leave. I believe, however, that you would be a fool to miss this opportunity at the expense of making a few poorly worded jokes regarding Miss Castleton and the hardship that befell her.”

  Treacle’s eyes narrowed at Drake’s words, just as Madeline’s heart bloomed.

  It was stupid to be moved by Drake’s defense of her — this was a man who lived to defend and protect others — and yet, the fact that he considered the situation to be at fault and not her meant all the difference in the world.

  “Very well,” Treacle finally said, as though he was doing them a favor. “I shall hear your proposal, and then, if I do not like it, you will be gone.”

  He turned and began walking down a corridor to the back of the building, and Madeline and Drake exchanged a look before following him.

  “You do not have to be here,” he murmured as they walked side-by-side, and Madeline couldn’t help but be grateful that, at least, she was here with him and not alone.

  “I want to be,” she said firmly. “This is my business, and I will ensure that it survives.”

  He nodded but didn’t respond as they followed Treacle into an office.

  It suited him, Madeline thought, as she took a seat in one of the chairs he pointed to that was situated around a square table. The walls were white, shined to perfection, the navy brocade fabric of the furniture that surrounded the office noticeably new. While Treacle was obviously creating lesser quality products, he was wasting no money on his own grandeur.

  Madeline sat with her hands tightly gripping her reticule, while Drake took a much more relaxed posture in the seat next to her, his one leg crossed over the other in what she realized was likely a calculated move, one that was designed to put his subjects at ease with the conversation. She didn’t know why, but she was comforted by his presence, while also quite drawn by his proximity.

  Madeline took a breath and attempted to, at the very least, drop her shoulders from where they had heightened to her ears, so tense she was.

  “Now,” Treacle said, sitting across from them and interlacing his fingers as he placed his hands on the desk. He looked at Drake. “Who are you, and what are you doing here?”

  “I am John Smith,” Drake said, and Madeline’s gaze shot to him incredulously. Really? Of all the names he could choose, he would be so boring.

  Treacle’s raised eyebrows showed that he obviously didn’t believe him, but he waved his hand forward lazily for Drake to continue.

  “I am a new partner of Miss Castleton’s and it was my idea to see if you would like to be involved in this project. Castleton Stone recently won a commission for the stone to be used in the refurbishment of one of the palaces.”

  That had Treacle sitting up straighter.

  “Oh? Which one?”

  “I cannot say,” Drake said cryptically. “But suffice it to say, it will be a most prestigious project.”

  “I have not heard of such a thing.”

  “That is because they did not tender out any of the work. It was all appointed.”

  Treacle looked from Drake to Madeline and then back at Drake.

  “So why come to me for this? This should be a victory for you.”

  “It is,” Madeline said dryly. “Believe me, Treacle, I would have preferred not to come.”

  “But, alas,” Drake said with a sigh, the man who rarely showed any emotion now displaying feigned emotion for this interview, “Castleton Stone will be unable to produce all of the stone necessary.”

  “Oh?” Treacle said once more, now leaning forward on the table toward them. “And why would that be?”

  Madeline studied him as intently as she could, trying to discern if he was actually surprised to hear of the issue, or if it was news to him. As far as she could tell, he was truthfully shocked by the news, although who was she to judge a man’s acting ability?

  Drake looked over to Madeline and nodded for her to continue.

  “Our stone was vandalized.”

  “Vandalized?” Treacle repeated her, his shock as real as Madeline could have asked it to be.

  She nodded slowly. “All of it. Really everything that was in the factory was either defaced or broken. Our stone, as you know, is made of a very dense material and is difficult to break, so whoever did this had to have known what to expect.”

  She looked at Treacle long and hard, but he said nothing, instead leaning back into his chair as he rubbed his chin with his thumb and index finger.

  “Huh,” he mused, “interesting.” Then his eyes lit up and he fixed his gaze on Madeline. “And just how are the rest of your clients taking this little setback? Have their projects been affected?”

  “We are working hard to replace the orders that were still on site. However, as you know, it takes time. Meanwhile, some of our other projects are on hold.”

  “Interesting.” Treacle said, eyeing Madeline the way a vulture might when it saw its prey beginning to slow. “And does your father know about this?”

  “He does not at the moment,” she said, holding her head up proudly. “However, he has given me full authority to act in his stead while he is away.”

  “Ah, yes, away in Bath on his little tryst with your friend’s mother,” Treacle said, a grin spreading across his face. “Oh, don’t look so shocked. Everyone knows.”

  “What my father chooses to do with his time is none of your business,” she said, unable to hide her contempt, forgetting for a moment why they were here. Her fierce loyalty to those she loved often got the better of her. “In fact—”

  Drake’s hand on her arm stayed her. She was so surprised by it that she stopped talking, before embarrassment overcame her at her outburst.

  “My apologies,” she said, hanging her head. “I should not have—”

  “No apologies necessary, Miss Castleton,” Drake said lightly. “Now, back to the issue at hand. Castleton Stone has a supply issue. Is it safe to say that you were not aware of thi
s, Treacle?”

  “Of course not,” he said, shaking his head. “How did it happen?”

  “We do not know,” Drake said, “although we would like to. Do you have any ideas as to who would do such a thing?”

  Treacle looked from Drake to Madeline, obvious suspicion creeping into his gaze. “You do not think I did it, do you?”

  Perhaps he was smarter than she had given him credit for.

  “Would we be here presenting this to you if we did?” Drake asked, and Treacle thought over his question for a moment before shrugging.

  “I suppose not.” Treacle rubbed his chin again. “If I had to guess, however…”

  “Yes?”

  “Your factory is on land at the edge of the London Docks,” he said. “Has not Hubert Powers been trying to buy the building and the land from you for some time?”

  “He has,” Madeline said slowly. “My father refuses to sell.”

  “And now your father is not here, although he still owns the business,” Treacle pointed out. “You might not have the authority to sell, but it is easier to discredit you. You are not only a woman, but new to this position of power, and you have shown poor judgement in the past.”

  Drake cleared his throat and shot Treacle a pointed look, but he simply shrugged and held his hands out.

  “I am only stating a fact. Not trying to insult her.”

  Drake steadied a look at him, and it was only upon closer inspection did Madeline see that Drake’s hands had curled into fists on his lap, his jaw clenched tightly as though he was holding back from what he was really wanting to say.

  “He’s right.” Madeline said the words before she even realized she was going to, and both men swung their heads to look at her.

  “Miss Castleton—” Drake began, but she held up a hand to stop his words.

  “He is right,” she repeated. “Powers has wanted the land for quite some time, but my father has been adamant in his refusal. Powers would like to extend the docks, to allow for his business to better serve the ships coming into the harbour. Castleton Stone would be the ideal location, but my father will not budge, no matter what Powers offers him. If our business fails, however, we would have to sell the building, and he would be right there to buy it. It would all fall into his hands.”