When she entered the room both Bentley and Acker were standing by the window overlooking the dormant gardens. Had they been spying on her? How dare they?

  “I agree,” Bentley said to Acker while he studied Genevieve.

  “Agree to what?” Were they making decisions about her life once again?

  “That you should move in with Acker and me,” Juliette answered with a grin. “If Bridges wishes to court you, I can’t be sending a message each time he comes to call, not to mention if he wishes to take you on a drive or to the theater, or ball, it would be most inconvenient for you to prepare at the Bentley townhouse then drive here so that you were available when Bridges arrived.”

  Geneviève gapped at them. Court her?

  Of course, they would think Bridges might want to court her. Why hadn’t she realized that is the conclusion they would jump to? He never told them why he was really here but asked to walk with her in the garden. That is what gentlemen did when they called on a lady, didn’t they? And, it suited the situation well. If she moved in with Acker and her sister, she would be out from under the watchful eye of Bentley.

  “If you are certain it isn’t too much of an inconvenience.” Her mind worked out all of the details of how quickly she could be packed and situated in a chamber within this home and what excuse she could give her sister for not being present most of the day. It wasn’t as if Juliette would notice her absence as she and Acker were constantly making calls or he was busy doing whatever it was he did while Juliette was at her school of dance.

  “Of course not,” Juliette beamed.

  “This doesn’t mean you are any freer to flit about,” Bentley warned.

  Geneviève rolled her eyes. She understood that he wished to protect her but wondered how much more of it had to do with Bentley fearing she would embarrass the family, once the rest of London knew that they were indeed family. “I will behave with all the decorum you would expect of a younger sister as if I were born to the role.” Her words dripped with sweetness in order to appease him.

  Bentley only narrowed his eyes at her.

  Geneviève threw up her hands and flounced on the vacant settee. “Really Bentley, you behave as if I will run naked in the streets if someone doesn’t watch over me every moment of the day.”

  His face reddened. “I do not go so far, but you need to remember, you are no longer in Milan.”

  As if she needed anyone to remind her.

  “Young ladies are not afforded the freedom to come and go as they please, where they please, and certainly without a maid, companion or chaperone. I am surprised it was allowed in Milan.”

  Actually, it was frowned upon there as well, if one wasn’t part of the theatre or other common class, but she didn’t think it was wise to advise her brother of those facts.

  “I am surprised Adele permitted it, regardless of the situation you were in.”

  “Mother had her own entertainments,” Juliette reminded him.

  “She chafed at being dictated to as well,” Geneviève added. “I suspect that is why she allowed us our freedom, within limits of course.”

  “Limits?” Bentley barked. “I see no evidence that my sisters were ever restricted.”

  Juliette and Geneviève turned to him. “We had but one rule,” Juliette reminded him.

  “One?” Bentley choked.

  “Never to become attached to a man, gentleman or not,” Geneviève explained.

  “I had to see Acker in secret,” Juliette confessed.

  “At least I won’t have to worry about that in London. If Bridges wishes to court you, he will call upon you as is proper and I won’t need to worry about you visiting his shipping offices.”

  Geneviève kept the pleasant expression upon her face. “I can assure you, I will not be visiting his shipping offices.” What Bentley didn’t know couldn’t upset him.

  She accepted a cup of tea from her sister and looked into the cup as she stirred. She could have sworn Bridges was about the kiss her in the garden. He had grasped her arms and stepped close. Her heartbeat had increased and she realized that she actually wanted him to kiss her. Why?

  She frowned and set the spoon aside. That was a rather silly question. He was a handsome man and he admitted to needing her and recognized her worth.

  With a pleasant smile, Geneviève leaned back and sipped. Perhaps working with Bridges would hold further benefits she had not anticipated.

  “Excuse me, Lord Acker,” the butler announced from the door. “Mr. David Thorn is inquiring if Lady Acker is at home.”

  “Thorn?” Bentley questioned with a frown.

  “What is he doing here?” Acker slid his eyes to his wife.

  “Please, send him in,” Juliette insisted before turning to Acker. “I wonder why he is calling on me.”

  “Given the gentleman’s reputation, I can only imagine,” Bentley grumbled.

  A moment later Mr. David Thorn strode through the door, the material of gold, green and blue neatly folded across his arm.

  “My shawl,” Juliette cried as she came to her feet.

  “You left it the other evening. One of the maids found it while cleaning up after the ball. It took mother a day or two to recall whom it belonged to.”

  “Thank you so much for returning it.” Juliette linked her arm with his and escorted him further into the room. “Please do join us for tea.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” He flashed a grin at her.

  “I am sure you know Lord Bentley and this is my sister—”

  “Ah, Miss Mirabelle, it is a pleasure to see you again.” His eyes hooded and, if possible, his smile shifted from friendly to seductive.

  Bentley straightened further. The last thing Geneviève needed was for her brother to become further out of sorts. “I was employed as a maid by Mrs. Thorn before we retired from London last summer,” she quickly explained. “I made Mr. Thorn’s acquaintance at that time.”

  Thorn settled into the chair beside Geneviève. “Mother was quite distressed when you disappeared.” He turned and addressed the rest of the group. “Miss Mirabelle was never truly a maid. She was assisting Mother in redecorating many of the rooms in the townhouse.” He focused back on Geneviève. “Mother has been quite lost without you and hasn’t completed a single project.”

  Geneviève never dreamed Mrs. Thorn wouldn’t have continued in her renovations but on second thought, it seemed plausible. The woman had difficulty making even the smallest decision and when she did, had some of the poorest taste Geneviève had encountered. “I apologize. I had no idea.”

  “Do you take anything in your tea, Mr. Thorn?” Juliette asked, holding up the cup.

  “Milk, please.”

  Thorn focused his attention back on Geneviève. “If I might ask, would it be too much of an imposition to call on mother? I know Father would like to have the rooms complete before the Season begins if it is at all possible.”

  It was just what she needed to keep busy and would fill her days after she completed the work for Bridges. “Of course.”

  “Good,” he brightened. “I’ll call on you tomorrow afternoon and take you to mother.” He studied her. “Then perhaps we might take a stroll, if the weather permits it, of course.”

  Geneviève blinked. Tomorrow? She wasn’t free until next week, but she certainly couldn’t tell him that. Not with Bentley and Acker watching so intently. She swallowed, trying to come up with an excuse.

  “That is perfect,” Juliette announced. “Geneviève has been complaining she wished for something to occupy her time.”

  Bentley cleared his throat, his mouth pursed, narrowed gaze on Thorn. Really, her brother was far too overprotective. She knew Thorn’s reputation and did Bentley believe her silly enough to fall for the man’s flirtations?

  Thorn grinned. “I look forward to furthering our acquaintance as well, Miss Mirabelle,” he said in a low tone.

  She caught Bentley’s scowl and bit back a grin. “I, as well, Mr. Thorn.” Not that she had any interest in the gentleman, but having Bentley so irritated was rather enjoyable.

  With a mixture of relief and trepidation, Jonathan returned to his office at the front of the warehouse. Thank goodness Miss Mirabelle had agreed to take on the task with very few questions and no demands. Her understanding was beyond anything he anticipated.

  Had he really almost kissed her? It had to be the relief that she agreed. It certainly couldn’t be anything else, such as fond feelings for the woman.

  He shrugged out of his coat and tossed it on the back of a chair. She was beautiful with the loveliest shade of hair. Her grey eyes were quick and intelligent. She understood the situation far more than he anticipated and she agreed to work in secret. They would meet without anyone around. Might they become closer? Might he have another opportunity to kiss her?

  Jonathan shook the thought from his head. He must think of Miss Mirabelle as an employee. Nothing else. He couldn’t afford to get caught up in a courtship right now. Especially since he didn’t know what his future held. If he didn’t give Valentine the information he wanted, Jonathan could very well end up in Newgate.

  It was best to put all thoughts of Miss Mirabelle aside until he knew he would not be rotting in prison.

  Jonathan paused at the front of his desk. Though neatly piled in separate stacks, there was much work to be done. How much damage had his former secretary done to his company?

  Picking up an empty crate, Jonathan began neatly placing the documents inside. He could not worry about what Miss Mirabelle might or might not find. It served no purpose. The best he could do was to have these papers delivered and hope that she was able to complete the task before Valentine appeared on his doorstep again. He almost feared not having answers for the investigator more than he did finding out he had been robbed blind.

  The sun had set by the time everything was boxed and ready for delivery to the house on Henrietta Street. Jonathan stretched and turned slowly in the room. Having the papers out of sight lifted a weight. Each time he had come in here, unable to find any free surface in the room wore him down before he even settled behind the desk. It was good to be moving back in the direction of his company being an efficiently run shipping line.

  Tonight he would not need to remain here until the late hours making sense of the mess, nor feel guilty about leaving it behind. In fact, he was in the mood for company and a bit of distraction.

  An hour later, Jonathan found himself entering Dagger’s Haven. He stepped into the room and scanned those in attendance. Several gentlemen sat at tables in discussion and drinking while others tried their hands at a game of chance. His mood might be lightened, slightly, but Jonathan didn’t dare gamble. Until Miss Mirabelle determined the extent of the damage his former secretary had caused, Jonathan didn’t risk the loss of even one shilling.

  At a far corner, Stanwick sat with Acker and the owner motioned him over. Jonathan couldn’t recall Acker being in the establishment before but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a member. Besides, the two were now related, having married sisters. He sauntered over and Stanwick signaled the servant and another glass was produced as Jonathan took a seat. Without being asked, Stanwick poured brandy and pushed the glass in Jonathan’s direction. He eyed the man suspiciously.

  Jonathan nodded a greeting and took a sip. The liquid burned trail down his throat, warming him from the inside.

  “I understand you called on Geneviève today?”

  “Yes,” Bridges answered slowly. Had she told them the reason for his call? He hadn’t asked her to keep what was between them in confidence but assumed she would.

  “We are wondering what your intentions are,” Acker added.

  Jonathan jerked toward him. Intentions? “I don’t understand,” he said slowly.

  Stanwick arched an eyebrow. “You call on her, take her for a walk in the garden, then leave,” he pointed out.

  He took another swallow. “I wished to inform her of the progress I’ve made into her mother’s shipment.”

  Acker smirked. “You couldn’t have shared this with her in our presence?”

  No, Jonathan wanted to tell them, but then he would need to explain why. “As it is business, I thought best if we discuss the matter in private.”

  Stanwick chuckled. “Then you aren’t intent on courting her?”

  Heat infused his face. He could understand why Acker may have come to such a conclusion. He opened his mouth to deny that was his intention but stopped himself. He was rather interested in courting the young woman, but not at this time. But, if Acker thought he was, it gave him the perfect excuse to call on her to learn of any progress she had made.

  A shadow fell across the table right before another chair was pulled out. Jonathan turned to find that Mr. Jordan Trent had joined them. Jonathan certainly couldn’t say anything further. Acker and Stanwick were Miss Mirabelle’s brothers-in-law and probably felt it was their duty to watch out for the young lady since she had no other family. Mr. Jordan Trent was another matter.

  “Good evening, Stanwick, Acker, and Bridges.” He eyed the bottle in the middle of the table and the three glasses.

  Stanwick raised his arm and another glass was delivered and set before him. Trent didn’t wait for Stanwick to offer him a drink, but lifted the bottle and poured himself.

  “What are you gentlemen discussing this fine evening?”

  “We were waiting for Bridges to disclose his intentions,” Acker answered.

  “He called on our sister-in-law, Geneviève, today,” Stanwick explained.

  Trent straightened and turned sharply, pinning Jonathan with his eyes. “What is your interest?”

  “Why is it your concern?” Bridges retorted. Trent had his own wife at home.

  Trent shrugged and lifted his glass. “Curiosity, I suppose.” He took a drink. “Delightful young lady.”

  This time Jonathan straightened. “Delightful?” Geneviève Mirabelle was many things, but delightful was not one of them.

  Trent tilted his head to study Jonathan. “You don’t think so?”

  How the hell did he answer that question with her two brothers-in-law sitting across from him? Irritating, bossy, stubborn, forthright, intrusive, beautiful, desirable, and many other descriptions he could not voice.

  Jonathan glanced about the table. All three gentlemen eyed him with interest, waiting for him to answer. He cleared his throat. “I’ve found her to be charming.” It was as good a description as any. As was caring, understanding, and helpful, but those descriptions would invite too many questions. He swiftly took another drink. This was not how he intended his evening to proceed once he entered the gaming hell. Perhaps he should have sat for a game of chance. At least nobody at those tables would be questioning his interest in a young lady.

  “If you had planned on calling on Geneviève again tomorrow, it is only fair that Thorn has requested he take her to visit his mother,” Acker advised.

  Bridges stilled. He didn’t want that reprobate anywhere near her.

  “Thorn?” Trent demanded. “What is his interest in Gen…Miss Mirabelle?”

  Jonathan studied Trent. He seemed far more interested in Miss Mirabelle than even her brothers-in-law. How well did he know the young woman and why such concern, other than Thorn’s reputation was well-known and not much worse than Trent’s had been before he married.

  “I don’t think that is your concern,” Acker bit out.

  Trent pulled back, his eyes locking with Acker’s. “Yes, I suppose you are right. I would hate to see someone as charming as Miss Mirabelle fall for the likes of him.”

  “I’ll see that she is watched,” Acker assured Trent.

  Odd. This was very odd indeed. One would think Trent cared more for the young woman than he should.

  Chapter 9

  Jonathan paused outside the three-story townhouse on Henrietta Street and wondered at the wisdom of his decision. She was a miss and he should not be meeting her in secret. Her brothers-in-law were lords, or at least one was and the other would be one day. Would Geneviève Mirabelle’s reputation suffer if anyone learned what she was about? Yet, what was he to do? He needed her if he were to satisfy the Thames River Police, his customers, and himself.

  Perhaps he should have explained to Acker when he called yesterday. Then Miss Mirabelle could work from the security of her brother-in-law’s home. But, what if Acker didn’t allow her to help him? And, Jonathan certainly couldn’t explain the situation in front of Bentley. Already enough people knew about the trouble with the warehouse and the shipments.

  For generations, his family had worked to build a large and successful shipping line and he was not about to have it destroyed by a handful of thieves.

  Determination straightened his spine and he marched to the front door and grasped the knocker. The door opened before him and across the threshold stood Miss Mirabelle. Her auburn hair was pulled tight behind her head and she wore a serviceable light grey gown with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. She resembled more of a servant than a young miss.

  “Where have you been?” She demanded, taking Jonathan aback. “I’ve been here for two hours, waiting.”

  “It is only ten in the morning. I did not think you would be here even now.”

  She hitched a brow. “Did you intend to simply leave the crates and hope I came around sometime today?”

  He resisted the urge to pull at his cravat. That is exactly what he presumed. Ladies in society rarely left their homes before noon. He had assumed she had sent along with instructions to the servants as to where to leave the crates in her absence.

  “Well, come along. We haven’t a moment to lose.”

  Jonathan cleared his throat and motioned to his footman to bring the crates. He followed Miss Mirabelle up a flight of stairs and down the hall into a library of sorts. He stopped just inside the door and took in the room. Tables, without any decoration upon them, had been set in U-shaped configuration in the center of the room and a chair placed within. A settee was pushed into a back corner, and all other furniture had been moved out of the way. Two footmen followed him inside.