Tempted at Every Turn (2 page)

James gave his friend a scowl. What were these two about tonight? And who was the less-than-charming Miss Mabson? Certainly not a vain attempt to match him with one of Amelia’s spinster friends. James released a deep breath. As if his life weren’t complicated enough.

“Randolph is still on my back,” he finally answered.

“So you’re still working with Finch, I gather?” Colin asked.

“Working under him,” James corrected. No rea
son to pretend the situation was anything other than that.

“How much longer for your probation?” Amelia asked.

“As long as Randolph decides, I suppose. I’ve asked repeatedly and I never get a clear answer. I’ve decided my next plan is to ask him on a daily basis. Perhaps if I annoy him enough he’ll come to his senses and give me my old post back,” James said.

It was then that Miss Mabson looked up from her plate and locked gazes with him. Even behind her spectacles he could see the chocolaty depths of her intelligent eyes. She wasn’t smiling, precisely, but he detected a slight movement of her lips. Was she smirking? Before he could be certain, she looked away.

What was this woman about, with her mysterious expressions and dismissive attitude? He’d never before had a woman dismiss him so coolly, so unaffectedly as she’d done when he’d offered to escort her into the room. It was as if…as if she were immune to his charm. He hated to boast, but he had yet to meet a woman who could resist him. It wasn’t vanity; it was simply experience that had taught him that women found him engaging, charming, and appealing. Clearly, this woman was unbalanced in some fashion. Perhaps she couldn’t see well, thus the spectacles, and could not see his features clearly.

He pulled his gaze off her and focused on Colin. “I suppose he could have paired me with someone other than Finch. At least Finch recognizes my abilities and doesn’t treat me like a dolt. Just the same, I much prefer working on my own.”

Colin held up his drink in a salute. “Precisely the reason I left the Yard.”

“No, you left the Yard because you don’t like people in general,” James corrected. He leaned back in his seat. “I simply don’t want anyone to tell me what to do. They can work with me so long as they allow me to use my own techniques.”

A small choking sound erupted across from him.

“Willow, are you quite all right?” Amelia asked.

“Quite,” she said tightly.

Willow wasn’t an unattractive female, although he’d certainly seen finer specimens. She had a pleasing figure, as best he could tell in her excessively modest evening gown. It wasn’t cut low enough to reveal any hint of cleavage, as was customary, but he could see enough to recognize a sizeable chest. She wasn’t overly thin or particularly plump, but she looked soft in those places where a woman ought to be soft.

He’d never met a woman who wore spectacles, but they seemed to fit her. He could appreciate a well-shaped mouth, which, were it on any other woman in the world, he would have assumed
was made for sin. On Miss Mabson, he imagined she clucked her tongue in disapproval on more than one occasion. A pity.

“We’re finishing up a counterfeiting case right now,” James said. “Not very interesting, I’m afraid. Nothing more than a bloke who took advantage of one of the abandoned buildings down on the docks and figured he’d print his own currency.”

“Inspector?”

He looked up at Miss Mabson.

“I was merely curious as to whether or not it is appropriate for you to discuss active investigations with regular citizens?” Her lips pursed. “Would not such behavior be frowned upon?”

He was beginning to wonder if this entire evening was some sort of jest. He glanced at Colin and Amelia, who looked as confused as he felt. “I’m speaking to a former Yard detective; I don’t suppose that matters much.”

“Amelia and I are also in the room. Surely that is against the rules,” she countered.

He gave the lady one of his lazy smiles. “I’m not overly concerned with the rules.”

“Clearly not, since your supervisor saw fit to put you on probation.” Her tone was still even, sweet-sounding, but James sensed there was more fire lurking below.

“My supervisor doesn’t know what he’s talk
ing about,” James said.

“Surely he has some elevated skills, else he would not have been given his position with that rank.”

“I think, madam, that you speak of much that you know very little about,” he said through tight teeth.

“You would be surprised what I know.” She tossed her napkin onto the table and her eyes blazed. “You disregard propriety as if the rules were nothing more than guidelines developed on a whim of boredom,” she said. “Were it not for these rules, much of our civilization would be in chaos.”

His stomach jolted. He’d heard those words before. “What did you say?”

She had the grace to look slightly guilty. “Chaos,” she repeated. “I believe that without structure chaos would surround us.”

“No, not that—the other thing you said.”

She folded her arms over her chest.

He knew those words. That exact phrase about disregarding propriety. He’d seen it only that morning, in that bloody letter. This small scrap of a woman who hid behind her tongue and a pair of spectacles. She was responsible for all of those anonymous letters.

Well, that was simply too good to be true. He chuckled at first, but then released a full-fledged
laugh. Slowly, he stretched his legs out in front of him, not caring if he kicked her foot with his own. “I knew you’d be a woman,” he said with a smile.

The crease between her brows deepened. “I beg your pardon.” Her speech was so refined, so crisp.

“The letters, Miss Mabson. Do you think me dense?”

She opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t answer that. I received your most recent one just this morning.”

“You said you’d stopped, Willow,” Amelia whispered.

“I did,” Willow said softly. “It was just this once.”

“You knew?” James asked Amelia.

She smiled sheepishly.

“What the devil is everyone talking about?” Colin asked.

James didn’t take his eyes off Willow. “Do you want to explain it, or shall I?” He didn’t wait for her to answer. “I think I will. I wouldn’t want you to leave out any details. The lovely Miss Mabson has been sending me anonymous letters for some time now. Letters that criticize everything from my technique at solving cases to my record keeping. I’m rather surprised she’s never commented on my choice in clothing.”

“Well, had I known,” Willow blurted out. “I don’t suppose any of the other inspectors dress in such a fancy manner.”

He said nothing, merely eyed her steadily.

“Had you responded to my first letter…” she stammered. “I did not criticize, at least not originally. I merely had some questions. But you,”—she pointed at him—“ignored me. You don’t answer to your supervisor, and evidently, you don’t answer to the good people of London.”

So that was what lit her ire. Well, he wasn’t ignoring her now. “As you mentioned before, it really isn’t appropriate for me to discuss investigations with people who do not work for the Yard.” He loved tossing her words back at her.

Her eyes flared.

He chuckled. He’d love to see that passion, that fire, put to something more pleasurable and productive. “There is one thing I’ve been curious about. How do you get all your details? You know things about the investigations that are not printed in the papers.”

Her lips tightened into more of a line, if that were possible. “I will not tell you that.” She shifted in her seat as if uncomfortable. “Perhaps you did not owe me an explanation, but you could have, at the very least, acknowledged my letters. It is the polite thing to do. Be that as it may, your disregard for proper procedure is flagrant, at best,”
Willow pointed out.

“I appreciate your concern, but I can assure you that regardless of my methods, I am quite capable of solving my assigned cases. Some might even say I’m rather accomplished at my job.”

“Were I to have the same resources the Metropolitan Police offers you…” her sentence trailed off without her completing it.

He leaned forward and scraped at the day’s growth on his chin. She was bold, but he could beat her at her own game. “I do believe you’re making quite a daring assumption, Miss Mabson. You seem to imply that you might be better than I at solving these dastardly crimes and catching criminals,” he said.

“I did not say that,” she said.

“Oh, but you seem to have been insinuating precisely that. Or were you simply boasting?”

She stiffened.

He’d hit a nerve. He smiled.

“No, I was not boasting,” she said, her voice lined with defiance.

“Then you believe you could solve a case?”

She eyed him for several moments before she finally nodded, almost begrudgingly. “Yes, I do.”

“Very well,” James said.

She actually smiled then, and her white, even teeth stopped the words of his response. With a true smile in place, she was actually pretty. Very
pretty. It was unfortunate she was so opinionated. Whatever happened to the demure young miss who did nothing more than smile sweetly and nod? Apparently, women like that were in shortage. Not that he’d actually be interested in such a creature. Far too boring.

She was quite pleased with herself—that much he could tell. But it was time to challenge her hand. It was time to call her bluff. He reached into his pocket and pulled out the gloves he’d stashed there earlier and tossed them onto the table.

Her eyebrows arched. “You challenge me to a duel? They have been illegal for quite some time, as I’m sure you know,” she said, quite satisfied with herself.

“Yes, I do know. And no, not a duel. At least not one with pistols. I would hate for such a lovely creature to die at my hands. Rather a duel of the wits. Skill against skill. The first case I’m given, once I’m released from probation,” he added. “We will battle to see who can solve it first.”

Amelia gasped. “She’s rather gifted, James; you might want to reconsider.”

Amelia was a kind soul and she was good for Colin, but her sweetness often blinded her to the truth of a matter. And with this, she saw her dear friend as an actual threat to James’s detecting skills. It was laughable, but he restrained himself. Besides, it was unlikely the prim and proper miss
would actually accept his bold dare.

“Thank you for the warning, Amelia, but I will take my chances. That is, if Miss Mabson agrees to a little friendly competition.” He turned his glance back to the lady in question. “That is, if she’s brave enough to prove herself. Or perhaps she’s second-guessing her abilities.”

“If you think me frightened, sir, rest assured I am not.” She made eye contact and didn’t look away for quite some time.

This woman meant what she said, which James found amusing.

“I do have a question, though,” she continued. “How am I to solve a case when I am not privy to the kinds of investigative details you will have? Not quite a fair challenge.”

He shrugged. “I will share all of my information with you. You take the information and do with it what you will. You follow your precious rules and I shall solve the case with my own techniques—and whoever solves it first is the winner.”

He could see her fighting an internal battle. She wanted to do it—that much he surmised—but something was holding her back. No doubt that shield of propriety she had hanging around her neck. His mother would love her. And were that not such a terrifying thought, he might have found it amusing.

“What say you, Miss Mabson? It might give you ample opportunity to point out all the errors of my ways. Surely you can’t decline such an opportunity.” He had her there. He was goading her and she was going to accept—he could feel it in the charged air between them. He should have stopped while he was ahead.

She took a deep breath and nodded. “Very well, Inspector, I accept your challenge.”

T
he men had retired to the other room, presumably to smoke, although Willow knew that Colin never touched tobacco. But now that she was sitting alone with Amelia, her friend was staring at her with questioning eyes.

“What?” Willow said, unsuccessfully keeping the impatience from her tone.

“Do you still believe him to be the cretin you imagined?” Amelia asked.

James Sterling was the closest thing to a friend that Colin had, and Amelia had been so relieved when they’d resumed communications that Willow hated to be nasty. Admittedly, the man was not exactly how she’d envisioned him. Much to her surprise, he was the very picture of good health. He was obviously athletic and in high form, so her assumptions had been incorrect. But he was as arrogant, if not more so, as she’d imagined.

Amelia’s eyebrows arched even further.

“He is not completely as I expected,” Willow said, hoping she would not have to elaborate.

“Once you get past the arrogance, he is rather charming and sweet.” Amelia raised one finger. “And humorous.”

Willow could concede the charming part, if one were susceptible to that sort of overt charm that men who thought too much of themselves seemed to perfect. Were they taught those sorts of skills in school? While she and other ladies were mastering table skills and how to read and speak Greek, were men likewise learning how to manipulate women with false words and glances? In any case, charming he might effectively act, but humorous was a stretch by anyone’s definition.

“I can not believe you accepted his wager,” Amelia said, not hiding her smile. “I never imagined you would be that bold.”

Willow tugged on the hem of her jacket. “I don’t consider that bold.” Foolish? Yes, but she was not ready to admit that just yet. “I am apparently the only one who is interested in showing this man the error of his ways. This is good fortune for me to see him and his irreverent ways in action, therefore allowing me prime opportunity to bring them to his attention. Once he sees that crimes can be solved within the confines of the specified guidelines, he will cease his wild
ways and become a more respectable employee.” She crossed her arms over her chest. At least that sounded like a plan.

In reality she’d accepted that challenge because he’d manipulated her into a corner. He’d seen her competitive inclination and played her like an exposed chess piece. She shook her head. Ordinarily she saw moves like this coming before they hit, but she’d allowed him such liberties.

She’d already asked herself why she was so fixated on the inspector. Plenty of people broke rules every day and she never wrote them letters. Her own dearest friends bucked convention and ignored propriety all the time, but she still cared for them. What was it about this particular man?

Her irritation would have made more sense had she met him before tonight. He was precisely the type of man that ruffled her feathers, so had she met him before she had noticed his behavior, the letters would most certainly have been written. But she hadn’t. So why did she bother?

Was it simply because he’d ignored her first few? Because she’d been so casually dismissed? She didn’t want to admit that that could be part of it. But she couldn’t ignore it. Before she’d mailed the first letter she’d imagined the kindly inspector receiving it and being impressed with her wit and intelligence. She’d imagined he’d write her back, thanking her for her astute observation. None of
that had happened; instead, her pride had been wounded and she’d allowed this letter-writing thing to get completely out of hand.

“Willow?”

“Sorry.” She gave Amelia a nod. “I missed what you said.”

“You accepted his challenge for the good of the people, then?” Amelia said.

“Absolutely. What other reason would there be?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Amelia waved her hand in the air casually. “A chance to solve a real crime with a real inspector.”

Willow’s hands seemed to itch with excitement. She couldn’t deny the attraction to solving the puzzle, especially in the presence of a professional. His methods might be questionable, but she’d be foolish to deny his skill and experience.

Willow gave Amelia a small shrug—it was all the answer she could muster. Puzzle or not, that was not the point. There were more pressing matters involved, ones that didn’t involve her personal interests and curiosities. She had agreed to the wager for more important reasons.

It had very little to do with the excitement and thrill of solving a real crime. And even less to do with the much younger and more virile than anticipated Inspector Sterling.

“We solemnly swear to unravel mysteries by ferreting out secrets at all costs,” they all said in unison.

Willow eyed her three friends. The Ladies’ Amateur Sleuth Society was what they called themselves, but they were not a publicly recognized society. As it was, only a handful of people knew of their existence. They were four friends who enjoyed solving mysteries and fancied themselves novice—not to mention unpaid—detectives.

It had all started with Amelia’s fascination with Sherlock Holmes stories. She had hooked the rest of them on the serials, and the Society, somehow, had formed out of that.

Willow watched as Meg bit into her cake and Charlotte swayed her leg casually. No, not a real society at all. Were it not for her and Amelia, they would scarcely discuss anything but hair ribbons and Charlotte’s latest suitor.

They had recently been involved with some legitimate mysteries, but more so Amelia and Meg. Now Willow had an opportunity to work on an investigation, and try as she might, she was unsuccessful at squelching the flutters of excitement in her belly—even when she reminded herself that solving the crime wasn’t her primary motivation. And especially when she remembered that the only reason she was in said position was
because James Sterling had orchestrated her reaction so perfectly.

Regardless, she wanted to get this meeting on track and keep Amelia focused so she wouldn’t make a big to-do over last night’s dinner.

Willow knew she could always get them on track. She need only mention one little name. “Now then,” she said. “I believe we all agree that our attempts to entice the Jack of Hearts have, thus far, been futile. We must step up our efforts if we are to snare the thief.”

She saw Charlotte perk up instantly. Her leg stopped swaying and she sat straighter in her chair.

“Agreed,” Meg said.

“I must interject something first,” Amelia said. “It is simply too scrumptious to keep to myself.” Her smile was bright and completely mischievous.

Willow sat forward slightly. This would not do well for her. They—in particular, Charlotte—would never allow her to forget. “Amelia, honestly, it wasn’t—”

But Amelia did not let her finish. “Willow met Detective Sterling last evening. We had a dinner and invited both, but neither Colin nor I expected quite the show those two put on.”

Charlotte laughed heartily.

“You did not tell him you were the one sending
him the letters, did you?” Meg directed her question to Willow.

Willow crossed her arms over her chest. She did not have to defend herself over those letters. They were within her right to send. “It didn’t precisely happen in that manner,” she muttered.

“In what manner did it happen, then?” Meg asked.

“He knew it was her,” Amelia said excitedly. “She said something and he recognized it from a letter.” She shook her head. “And then off they went, challenging each other back and forth.”

“Oh, I would have paid great money to have seen that,” Charlotte said.

“Indeed. It was not a night I will soon forget,” Amelia said.

“Nor I,” Willow said. This situation might be humiliating had she not been friends with these women for years. It was bothersome, but they jested in kindness. Even so, she did not want to discuss Inspector Sterling.

“Was he as dashing as Amelia said?” Charlotte inquired.

“What has that got to do with anything?” Willow said.

“Oh, then he must be,” Meg said.

Willow rolled her eyes. “Honestly. Don’t you think of anything other than how dashing men are? There are far more important things in life to
fret over.” She might not be as interested in men as her friends, but she certainly wasn’t blind—although she often pretended not to notice men. She never indulged thoughts and fancies, but she’d be a fool not to take notice of a man such as Inspector Sterling. He was a fine specimen, indeed.

If one prefers men who are overly tall and overly opinionated
, she reminded herself. Or men who wear their hair so unfashionably long that it hangs far too much in their face.

“She certainly looks as if she found him rather dull,” Charlotte said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in her voice.

Willow tilted her chin up. “It matters not what Inspector Sterling looks like or whether or not I thought him to be attractive.”

“She’s right,” Amelia said.

That surprised her. She turned to her friend. “Thank you, Amelia.”

Amelia flashed her a devilish smile. “What is important is that she and the inspector made a wager.”

“How very improper of you.” Charlotte sat on the edge of her seat. “Willow, honestly, I didn’t know you had it in you.”

Willow really could kill Amelia right about now. Her friends stared openly at her. It was too much. She smacked her hands on her lap.

“Oh, stop it. Stop gaping at me.”

“Precisely what sort of wager is it?” Meg asked.

Amelia’s eyebrows rose, but she said nothing. Apparently she had finished torturing Willow, and was going to allow her to fill in the remaining details.

She sighed and resigned herself to telling Meg and Charlotte the rest, knowing they would not allow her to withhold such information. “After I was exposed for the letter writing,” she said, “he tossed down the gauntlet, so to speak. He issued a challenge to see who could first solve a mystery and I accepted.”

Charlotte started to make a comment that was no doubt cheeky, but Willow held her hand up. “It is my duty to show this man how to adhere to rules and regulations. Since his superiors have been unable to do so, perhaps he needs practical guidance. I can do that.” She nodded once to affirm it.

Meg frowned in confusion. “So you are going to work with him? At the Yard?”

“Not exactly.” She hesitated to mention precisely how the wager had come about, about how he’d manipulated her and about how he probably sat, even now, with his inspector friends jesting about the silly woman who believes she’s going to work an investigation. But the laugh would be on him. She was already cultivating a plan to en
sure that he didn’t wiggle out of their wager.

“We are to work a case together,” Willow continued. “At the moment, he’s on probation, well deserved, if you ask me. Once he’s back as a lead detective, I will be privy to all the details of the investigation and we will race, if you will, to see who can solve the case first. Me,” she placed her hand on her chest, “by following the rules. Or him, by doing whatever it is that he does.” She flit her hand about. “I can assure you all, I fully intend to win.” It would be a tall order, she knew, but now that he had made a fool of her, she was determined to turn the tables on him and win, simply to prove her point.

Charlotte chuckled softly. “Of that, I have no doubt, my dear Willow.”

Willow took a sip of her tea, and then folded her hands in her lap. “Yes, well, thanks to Amelia you are all quite informed of last night’s events. But that is certainly not why we are meeting today,” she reminded them. It was too unsettling having them all look at her so eagerly and listen so intently about her life. This was precisely the reason she maintained such an uneventful life—less interest and focus from others. Well, certainly not the only reason, but that was neither here nor there.

Amelia frowned. “We always meet on Wednesdays.”

“Yes, I realize that. What I meant was, there are other pertinent things to discuss,” Willow said.

“Like our boy, Jack,” Charlotte said with a grin. “Naughty, naughty boy that he is.”

“Indeed,” Willow said. They had long been following the escapades of the now notorious Jack of Hearts, a jewel thief who had a penchant for walking straight up to London’s wealthiest people and simply taking their gems. It was a most appealing case for the society, but seeing as their only clues were those left in the papers, the trail to him had led them nowhere.

They had even, on a handful of occasions, ventured out in their finest to try to lure the gentleman thief. To no avail. They had yet to catch the slightest glimpse of him.

“I had an opportunity to attend that opera last night,” Charlotte said. “But Frannie convinced me that the Bensen soiree would be a better choice. So of course I missed him again.”

The Jack of Hearts had struck the opera house the previous evening, taking no fewer than three private boxes. What always amazed Willow was the willingness of the people to simply hand over their prized possessions without any sort of resistance, as if being robbed by the masked thief was some sort of honor. Were she ever to encounter him, he’d have to literally rip the jewels off her body, as she would certainly not hand them over
willingly. There had been no reports thus far of violence on his part, although he was rumored to carry a small pistol.

“How was the Bensen soiree?” Meg asked.

Charlotte shrugged. “Moderately entertaining. Now that Frannie has come out, Mother is hassling both of us to find matches. I think she’s beginning to lose hope for me.”

“Well, can you blame her?” Willow asked. “You have declined a rather large number of proposals since your own coming-out. I do believe you hold some sort of record.”

Charlotte smiled sweetly. “Actually, Jane Portfield has me by at least three.”

“Yes, but she never did marry,” Willow pointed out.

“She never married because she wanted to continue cavorting with as many gentlemen as she chose,” Meg said. “And she certainly doesn’t take care to hide her affairs. She’s quite bold about them.”

“Jane Portfield is nothing like our Charlotte,” Amelia said. “She had no desire to be any man’s wife. She is content to be a spinster, although I use that word loosely. Charlotte will certainly get married. As will you, Willow.”