Page 39 of His Improper Lady

“A pouch of tobacco and cigarette papers,” Tom went on, pushing them to one side. “A folding knife.” He opened it. “Long enough to be lethal. Sharp, too. A handkerchief. None of this is very helpful.”

“What’s in here? This looks like a coin purse.” Desiree picked up a leather pouch that was bound with a drawstring and pulled it open, tipping the contents out on the table. Several coins of various denominations rolled out, as well as a set of gold cuff links, inlaid with a dark green stone. She picked one up to study the face of it. “These are very nice.”

“Is that jade?” Tom reached down to get the other one.

“I think it’s aventurine,” Desiree replied.

“Naturally you know your gems.”

Desiree shot him a glare. “It’s not because I’m a thief, if that’s what you’re suggesting. I just see a lot of men wearing it in one form or another. Gamblers consider it a lucky stone.”

“Desiree...” Tom said in an odd voice. “Look at the back side of it.”

The cuff link was hinged, with an oval of the same size and shape on the other end. Usually the back side was plain, unlike the more ornate front, but this one was engraved. Curlicues were etched around the edge, and in the center it was engraved with three letters: PAX.

“Pax?” Desiree’s voice rose in excitement as she turned to look at Tom. “The man Brock said was a friend of my father’s?”

“Seems more likely than someone engraving peace in Latin on their lucky cuff links.”

“But why would—do you think that was actually him? Oh, I wish we’d caught him!”

“He didn’t strike me as the sort who’d be the friend of a duke’s relative.” Tom frowned. “But his hair was graying... I’d say he was probably old enough. He was dressed like an ordinary chap, but I suppose that could have been a disguise.”

“But why would an old friend of my father’s follow me around?”

“I don’t know.” Tom jumped to his feet and began to roam around the room, rubbing the cuff link between his thumb and fingers. “But it defies belief that a different man with the same name would pop up in the middle of this.” He paced a bit more, then said, “We can’t dismiss the gambling aspect. You said it was a gambling good luck piece.” He gestured toward her. “Like the club token you wear.”

Desiree’s hand went instinctively to the token, once again on a chain and hidden beneath her dress. “We can’t be sure that he’s a gambler. After all, aventurine is used in other jewelry, as well.”

“Very well, but let’s go with the odds. This could have nothing to do with your parentage. Or with that bloody envelope, whatever that’s about. Say this fellow’s a gambler. He comes to your club frequently.”

“I didn’t recognize him.”

“Well, that’s because he’s a lurker, isn’t it? He doesn’t go to your table—he watches you from afar. He admires you. He wants to see what’s beneath your mask, wants to have you for himself.”

“Tom, you’re frightening me.” A shiver ran down her spine.

“Maybe you should be frightened.”

Desiree gazed at him for a moment, her chest tight. “No.” She rose to her feet, crossing her arms defensively. “That is simply too much. This fantasy admirer would also have to have the same name as my father’s old friend. An unusual name. And if he was someone who frequented the Farrington, Brock would have noticed that name.”

“He knows the name of everyone who comes there?”

“If it’s someone who goes there frequently, yes. My brother is not the sort to leave things to chance. He knows everything that goes on in that place. He circulates throughout the room, greeting people, chatting. Brock makes it his business to know his patrons, as well as his employees. He makes sure there are no arguments, and when he sees some young fool throwing away a fortune, he puts a stop to it. He wants the fool to come back. He wants the fool’s friends and family to know that it’s an excellent place to play. Trust me, he would notice someone who was dangerous.”

Tom quirked his eyebrow at her. “He ‘reads’ people like you do?”

“No.” Not exactly. “But he has a lot of experience, and he pays close attention. He would have recognized that name, and he would not have allowed anyone dangerous in the club—at least not more than once. I don’t think it’s connected to the club.”

“Very well. Let’s say the man following you is the man who was a friend of your parents.” Tom took another turn around the room. “Why, after all these years, would this man decide to start following you? He’s had ample opportunities to find you before this. He would know your names. You have been living in this house, working at that club, for some time.”

“Yes, years.”

“Then why—leaving aside the issue of why he wouldn’t simply call on you—why would this man suddenly feel the need to hunt you up and watch your house? Why dog your footsteps?”

“Because I didn’t start looking for my father until now,” Desiree replied. “I mean, I’d always wanted to know. I wondered about it. I even looked up my birth certificate. But I have never made a concerted effort to find him. I didn’t hire a detective.”

“You didn’t exactly hire one now, if you’ll remember,” Tom commented dryly. He paused, frowning, then said, “Come to think of it, if you wanted so much to learn who your father was, why haven’t you hired a detective to find out before now?”