“How do you know about the smuggling?” She blurted out to keep John from prying further into her relationship with Bridges.

  He shrugged. “I hear things.”

  She leaned back and relaxed in her chair. “How could you hear things? Are you a spy?” She laughed.

  “You told her?” Elizabeth gasped from the doorway.

  It had been meant as a jest. Had she hit on the truth?

  “No, dear,” John bit out. “But you just have.”

  Elizabeth’s face turned pink. “Oh, I was teasing,” she offered with too bright of a smile.

  Geneviève looked between the two. Elizabeth had been too alarmed.

  “Who do you spy for?” Geneviève asked.

  Elizabeth bit her bottom lip and looked sheepishly at John.

  He blew out a breath. “England.” He poured himself a fresh cup of tea. “It’s how I met my wife.”

  Her eyes widened. “You are a spy too.”

  Elizabeth gave a half smile and shrugged.

  “This is a story I would like to hear.” How did the granddaughter of a duke become a spy?

  “It is a story better told later,” John warned and glanced toward the open door.

  “Then tell me how you know about the smuggling,” Geneviève insisted.

  Her brother looked to his wife. She shrugged again. He shook his head and turned back to Geneviève. “We have been tasked with finding out who has been smuggling items into the Port of London, what cargo they use, and where they have taken the goods. We have been trying to determine which warehouses and shipping lines were involved, wondering if it was a group of individuals or owners as well.”

  “It is not the owners,” Bridges said as he entered to room.

  How much had he heard?

  “At least not this one,” he insisted.

  “We know,” John assured him. “But, this is the best connection we have made to date. There have been few records, if any. What we learn tonight and tomorrow, might help us track the individuals responsible.”

  Bridges chuckled. “No wonder you were so eager to help.”

  “Would you have allowed us to before?”

  “No.”

  “Then it is fortuitous that Elizabeth and I decided to look for Geneviève.”

  “Then I have Thorn to thank for your intrusion,” Bridges decided.

  Geneviève rolled her eyes. “Thorn is harmless.”

  Both men looked at her as if she had gone daft.

  With that she picked up the stack of papers she had been organizing.

  “And, I promise not to tell anyone you spy for England,” Bridges said as he settled behind his desk.

  Chapter 15

  Why he blurted out that question, Jonathan wasn’t sure. It was none of his concern whether Miss Mirabelle wished to marry or not. He supposed he should think of her as Lady Geneviève now. Or, perhaps he shouldn’t, so he didn’t accidentally address her as such in hearing of others.

  But, why did he care if she wished to marry? He certainly wouldn’t want her as his bride. The woman was far too interfering and prying to make for a peaceful and harmonious marriage. Then again, his attraction to her was the strongest he had ever experienced for any woman. Hadn’t he nearly made love to her just a short time ago? His blood still hummed with awareness for her.

  No! He must dismiss all memories of those moments from his mind. He must forget her kisses, heightened awareness when her skin touched his, and her delicious scent and taste.

  “I have no desire to be controlled by a gentleman,” she answered.

  Bridges blinked. If anyone needed someone taking firm control over her actions it was Miss Mirabelle, but he didn’t dare voice his thoughts.

  “Now that I have explained the situation,” Trent began. “It is time you enlighten me to exactly what you and Geneviève are about that requires you to be alone in this house?”

  Thank goodness Trent had called up, alerting them to his presence, or no doubt he would have found the two of them on the settee and they would now be discussing either wedding plans or an early morning meeting with pistols.

  “I am helping sort out the paperwork left in disorder by his former secretary,” Geneviève answered.

  “Why can’t it be done at Acker’s home?” Trent demanded.

  “There isn’t enough room.”

  Trent snorted at her answer. “You and I both know that isn’t the case.”

  She looked to Jonathan. At least she wasn’t blurting out the truth, for that he was grateful. But, Trent wasn’t about to leave without knowing the whole of it.

  Jonathan sighed and then finished off his brandy, thankful Trent had provided it. A moment later he explained the whole of the situation, with the same stipulation that Trent says nothing to anyone outside of the room.

  Trent leaned back and whistled after Jonathan finished explaining about the missing shipments.

  “So, you can understand that nobody needs learn.”

  “Of course,” Mrs. Trent said before she glanced to her husband. She lifted a questioning brow.

  Their eyes were locked for a few moments as if they were communicating silently before Trent turned back to him. “Have you suspected any of your men of smuggling?”

  The thought never crossed his mind. “No.”

  “It’s no secret that smuggling has been an issue, especially along the coast, due to decades of conflicts with France,” Trent offered. “But recently there have been rumors of goods coming straight into London with items hidden inside crates of legitimate shipments.”

  He thought over the various ports the missing shipments had come from. The Mirabelle’s had come out of the Kingdom of Italy, previously ruled by Napoleon. Several of the missing shipments were from countries with French ties. Had his secretary done more than just steal?

  Jonathan’s stomach tightened and churned at the possibility. “Is Valentine aware of the potential smuggling?”

  Trent nodded.

  It was worse than he ever thought. What if Valentine thought he was a part of the smuggling ring if that is what it was called? No longer did he have to fear just Newgate or transportation, but death by hanging as well. “All the more reason we need to get through these documents,” Jonathan announced. He had to know the truth, today if possible. He glanced about the room, noting the stacks of paperwork. They couldn’t possibly get through these today or the next. But, he needed to know everything before he reported to Valentine on Monday.

  “I agree,” Trent said as he stood. “How can we help?”

  Jonathan came to his feet. “Help?”

  “Yes,” he smiled. “Elizabeth and I will assist you and Geneviève so you can get to the bottom of this in half the time.”

  Geneviève was shocked by her brother’s offer, but it would be a tremendous help.

  John pulled a small watch from the inside of his pocket. “It is getting late.”

  Surely he wasn’t going to make her return to Acker’s now. There was work to be done and it was even more imperative that it be done quickly.

  “I’ll send word to Acker that you will be with us tonight, Geneviève.”

  She blew out a sigh, thankful he was not making her return home like a good little girl. If John sent the note, nobody would question her.

  “Where shall we begin?” Elizabeth asked brightly.

  She quickly explained how the invoices were currently separated and how they need to sorted and matched to records and receipts.

  With a quick nod of understanding, Elizabeth went to the far side of the room and retrieved a stack of documents. She paused and looked around. “Where shall I work?”

  None of them should be sitting on the floor and Geneviève summoned the servants to remove the furniture meant for conversational purposes to be replaced with tables and chairs from within the house. Soon, each of them had a place to work. A few hours after they began, a footman entered with pots of tea and a plate of sandwiches for each of them. She glanced out the window to note that it had grown quite dark.

  Elizabeth excused herself after eating, promising to return shortly.

  Bridges stood and stretched. “I need to take a short walk to clear my mind.”

  She couldn’t blame him. Her eyes were tired from reading despite the number of lamps that had been lit and her neck was getting stiff.

  After the two quit the room, John wandered over to the desk she had arranged for herself. She blinked up at him. Was he leaving as well?

  “Is there anything more between you and Bridges other than this?” He gestured to the documents spread out in the room.

  Her cheeks colored and she hoped he didn’t notice. “Of course not.” Really there wasn’t. Just a brief interlude of delicious kisses and sensations. She was just as certain Bridges would not repeat the experience because he hadn’t indicated he wished for more from their relationship. Well, except this afternoon.

  “How do you know about the smuggling?” She blurted out to keep John from prying further into her relationship with Bridges.

  He shrugged. “I hear things.”

  She leaned back and relaxed in her chair. “How could you hear things? Are you a spy?” She laughed.

  “You told her?” Elizabeth gasped from the doorway.

  It had been meant as a jest. Had she hit on the truth?

  “No, dear,” John bit out. “But you just have.”

  Elizabeth’s face turned pink. “Oh, I was teasing,” she offered with too bright of a smile.

  Geneviève looked between the two. Elizabeth had been too alarmed.

  “Who do you spy for?” Geneviève asked.

  Elizabeth bit her bottom lip and looked sheepishly at John.

  He blew out a breath. “England.” He poured himself a fresh cup of tea. “It’s how I met my wife.”

  Her eyes widened. “You are a spy too.”

  Elizabeth gave a half-smile and shrugged.

  “This is a story I would like to hear.” How did the granddaughter of a duke become a spy?

  “It is a story better told later,” John warned and glanced toward the open door.

  “Then tell me how you know about the smuggling,” Geneviève insisted.

  Her brother looked to his wife. She shrugged again. He shook his head and turned back to Geneviève. “We have been tasked with finding out who has been smuggling items into the Port of London, what cargo they use, and where they have taken the goods. We have been trying to determine which warehouses and shipping lines were involved, wondering if it was a group of individuals or owners as well.”

  “It is not the owners,” Bridges said as he entered to room.

  How much had he heard?

  “At least not this one,” he insisted.

  “We know,” John assured him. “But, this is the best connection we have made to date. There have been few records if any. What we learn tonight and tomorrow, might help us track the individuals responsible.”

  Bridges chuckled. “No wonder you were so eager to help.”

  “Would you have allowed us to before?”

  “No.”

  “Then it is fortuitous that Elizabeth and I decided to look for Geneviève.”

  “Then I have Thorn to thank for your intrusion,” Bridges decided.

  Geneviève rolled her eyes. “Thorn is harmless.”

  Both men looked at her as if she had gone daft.

  With that, she picked up the stack of papers she had been organizing.

  “And, I promise not to tell anyone you spy for England,” Bridges said as he settled behind his desk.

  Chapter 16

  The sun was just peeking over the horizon as they finished. They had actually gotten through all of the documents, matching the invoices and receipts, in one night. Bridges now held over three dozen shipping invoices that had never been delivered.

  “I will take these to the warehouse and see what crates these belong to,” Bridges announced.

  John nodded in agreement.

  “We can meet back here later to review those that have gone missing.”

  Elizabeth covered a yawn with the back of her hand. “We all should get some rest.”

  Bridges looked to Geneviève. “What time shall I return?”

  “Six this evening.” Geneviève stifled a yawn. “I will have Cook prepare a supper.”

  Bridges nodded and quit the room.

  “I’ll return you to Acker’s,” John announced.

  “At this time?” Geneviève laughed. “Won’t he wonder where you had me all night if I am just now coming home?”

  “I did say you would be with us.”

  “Yes, and they will assume I stayed with you,” she explained. “It is better if I rest here and return at a more reasonable hour.”

  “She is correct, John,” Elizabeth insisted.

  He gave a quick nod. “Then we will return for you later.”

  “I am perfectly capable of getting myself home and back here,” she assured him. Really, she did not need to be watched every moment like some wayward child.

  “Let her go, John,” Elizabeth said.

  “Just take a maid with you this time,” he ground out and escorted his wife from the premises.

  Geneviève made her way up the stairs and down the corridor, and to the chamber she used on the rare occasions she stayed the night. She was exhausted and exhilarated at the same time. She had been able to help Bridges begin to solve the issue of the missing shipments and one of her brothers was treating her as if she had a brain in her head. Well, until he felt the need to remind her to take a maid. She had gained much ground last night in how she was viewed by him and could only hope that her remaining brothers would begin to see her as someone with intelligence and sense.

  She pulled a nightrail from the dresser and changed out of her dress before crawling into the bed. What was Bridges doing now? Had he already gone to the warehouse or was he resting first?

  What would he find and what would they do next?

  Would he kiss her again?

  A smile pulled at her lips. He had done far more than kiss her. She hugged her body and rolled to her side with a sigh. What else might he have done if John and Elizabeth had not arrived?

  Jonathan nodded greetings to his workers as he strode to the back of the warehouse, documents in hand. “Jones,” he called. “I need your help.”

  The bulk of a man was at his side almost instantly.

  “We need to match these invoices to the crates.”

  The man’s eyes widened in surprise. “You have gotten through them all already?”

  Jonathan wasn’t surprised at his shock. There had been a good amount of paper but he wasn’t going to let the man know how it had been accomplished. “I worked through the night.”

  The man swallowed and looked about. “Let’s get these sorted out and delivered.”

  “Very good.”

  The two of them worked for the next few hours, bringing in the rest of his employees to move the crates when needed. In the end, they were able to match most of the crates to invoices and Jonathan gave orders to have them delivered to their intended destination immediately. At least the sugar from Duke Eldrige’s plantation in Barbados had been located. That in itself was a relief because His Grace, more than the others, could make life very difficult if the shipment had been lost. Jonathan stopped long enough to write a letter to His Grace, apologizing profusely and explaining the situation as much as he dared. As a duke was involved, groveling was necessary.

  He returned to the back of the warehouse. There were still mysterious crates, but they did not match the remaining invoices. He double-checked them once again to the invoices in his hand, but these crates were a mystery. Unfortunately, none of the remaining crates contained Miss Mirabelle’s belongings and Jonathan dreaded telling her that he was no closer to finding her mother’s shipment than he had been a few months ago. He didn’t think she would be angry with him, but he hated to see her disappointed.

  Jonathan anchored his fists on his hips and stared at the dozen containers. Who did they belong to and where were they to be shipped?

  He scratched the back of his head. He would learn soon enough. Tonight he would return with Trent after the workers had left, and open them. He didn’t dare do so in the middle of the day with so many people around. Who knew what they would find. Jonathan still hoped they were mismarked and they did belong to the invoices he still held. However, his gut told him that wasn’t the case.

  Chapter 17

  Geneviève glanced at John, Elizabeth, and Bridges. They had gathered back at the house on Henrietta Street promptly at six. There were still servants about so they went directly into dinner. They couldn’t speak openly with footmen so they chatted about inconsequential matters. Finally, the last setting was removed and she rose from her seat. Elizabeth followed, as did the gentlemen. This was not a social gathering and they would not remain to enjoy brandy and cheroots.

  They returned to the sitting room where they had spent the night. It had been returned to its normal appearance with the settee and chairs situated for conversation before the fireplace. Sometime while she had slept the box of organized documents had been returned to the warehouse.

  “What did you learn?” John finally asked after the wine had been poured and the door closed.

  “I still have crates that don’t seem to belong anywhere and there are invoices that have no containers.” Bridges turned to her. “I am sorry, Miss Mirabelle, but your shipment is still missing.”

  Any hope she had clung to evaporated.

  “We will find your things, Geneviève,” Elizabeth assured her.

  “How?” What did they do next? If smugglers had taken them, they could be anywhere or destroyed. Anger welled up to think that a total stranger had gone through her mother’s things. While the items weren’t expensive, they were sentimental. It was the last she and her sisters had of their Maman.