Page 40 of Project Duke

“What does that have to do—”

“Just answer my question, please.”

“No, he is not. His papa is a small boat builder somewhere up north.”

She wore a triumphant look. “See, that’s what I thought. And yet, he has a big golden ring with a very real-looking ruby on his finger. Did you notice? And why did his hand shake so when he touched the ledger?”

Nathaniel frowned for a moment. He didn’t remember Bartholomew coming to riches recently. “What does that have to do with anything?”

“I’m not sure yet,” she said thoughtfully. “But now that I’m out of the room, go in there and get those lists.”

He softened and shook his head. “You didn’t listen to me before, Calliope, but listen to me now. We must let him calm down. I’ll ask him again, but not today. He’s a man of strict rules, and he was right about not giving information to civilians.”

Calliope opened her mouth to protest, then nodded. “Very well. But you must do it tomorrow.”

“Thank you. Let us return home. I do need a bath, and I will think of other steps we may take to find your brother.”

15

“Perhaps that one?” asked Poppy excitedly, pointing at a hat shop as Calliope and the girls strolled down Bond Street the next day.

The sound of hooves on cobblestones melded with the murmur of animated conversations as well-dressed gentlemen and ladies navigated the throng. Underfoot, the smooth stones felt oddly comforting, worn down by countless footsteps over the years.

Modistes showcased the latest fashions behind gleaming windowpanes, the delicate fabrics teasing the eye with splashes of vibrant colors and intricate patterns. The soft melody of a violinist seeking alms reached Calliope’s ears, competing with the low hum of nearby conversations. Every so often, the sweet scent of fresh bouquets from a florist’s stand broke through the more pervasive aroma of horse and leather.

Argos, Nathaniel’s giant black dog, tugged at the leash in Hazel’s hand, his nose quivering at the myriad scents—from the remnants of meat pies to the apparently enticing smell of other dogs. Every few steps, Argos would bark at a particularly flashy carriage or growl at another hound, his whole body a bundle of curious energy.

Remembering her first encounter with the canine, Calliope smirked. The name Argos, famously known as Odysseus’s loyal companion, seemed a bit too grand for such a mischievous creature, especially considering their less-than-auspicious introduction in the mews.

Calliope, just like her cat, was quite careful around the dog and wasn’t thrilled about taking him with them, but she understood the poor animal needed some air.

And how fun it was that, for the first time in her life, Calliope, as a married woman, could chaperone someone rather than being chaperoned. And, never having had sisters, she loved showing the girls around. Despite her general lack of interest in the social life of the ton, she was excited to help Hazel come out for her first Season. And the twins would surely come out in the next couple of years, as well.

All three girls were a delight to be with. They looked at all the shops and establishments with such wide eyes and enthusiasm that Calliope’s heart melted. They’d never had a mother to take them shopping, poor things.

As they stood in front of the hat shop, Poppy practically pressed herself against the window. “Ohh, that bonnet is so pretty, look!”

It was a pretty one, indeed. White, with adorable little roses of colors ranging from blush to peach to pink.

“Let’s go and get that one for you, then,” said Calliope.

The squeal poor Poppy gave made several people turn their heads, and Argos woofed questioningly.

“Calm down,” murmured Hazel.

“I prefer a book, anyway,” said Violet with a sideways glance at the bonnet, which was full of envy.

“I’ll get one for each of you,” said Calliope. “And some fitting ribbons, too.”

The smiles that bloomed on the girls’ faces broke her heart.

As Calliope opened the door of the shop and let the girls and Argos pass first, she threw a mindless glance at the street behind them. There was someone standing at the corner of the building watching her.

She frowned, blinking. No, that couldn’t be right. So that he didn’t notice her watching him, she pretended to drop something on the pavement and knelt, keeping the man in her side vision. He was dressed like a working-class man, perhaps a carriage driver or a milkman. Sturdy, patched brown breeches hugged his muscular legs, while a faded, ill-fitting waistcoat clung to his broad chest. His shirt was speckled with the dust and grime of a day’s work. A worn cap shaded his keen eyes, which darted around as if always alert to his surroundings.

But then he detached himself from the wall of the building, turned around, and disappeared behind the corner.

She must be imagining things, Calliope decided as she straightened back up. Nothing else was out of the ordinary on the street. People continued walking and talking, passing in and out of the doors of the shops.