“I will not agree to any of their terms, but I can at least get closer to my father. If they meet with me, I shall have clues.”
She shook her head vigorously. The idea of Duke near the men who had not only beaten him but kidnapped a man in broad daylight made her blood chill.
“No. We shall continue—”
He took her arm, forcing her to face him. “I have this in hand, Vi. Let’s return to the carriage.”
She looked back toward the closed vehicle then to Duke. “I’m not certain that’s a good idea.”
∞∞∞
Returning to the carriage was an excellent idea actually. But Duke couldn’t tell Violet why. It might be dangerous to put the both of them in close confines, away from prying eyes, but it would be far worse for them to remain on the street. Most especially if his gut was right and the man he’d seen skulking between two buildings was one of Doyle’s men. He’d had enough damned close encounters with such people for him to recognize them.
“It’s the best idea I’ve had in a long time actually,” Duke said, keeping hold of her arm. “Let’s go.”
“Duke,” Violet protested and tugged against his hold.
He sealed his fingers more firmly about the soft wool of her pelisse, swinging a glance over her shoulder to meet the man’s gaze. He stared boldly at Duke, either not caring that he’d been spotted or deliberate in his boldness. Doyle would hope Duke was intimidated by someone watching over him. If it wasn’t for Violet’s presence, he’d be raising his fists and demanding answers to his father’s whereabouts. He clenched his jaw and eyed the stranger. Another time, Duke silently promised. I’ll deal with you another time.
For now, he wanted Violet far away from the man.
“We are leaving,” he said in a low voice, “now.”
Creases appeared between her brows. “Duke?”
“Now, damn it.” He didn’t wait for any more protests or offer any answers.
Jaw set, grip tight, he led Violet back to the carriage, not allowing himself to relax until he had her settled on the seat with the door shut and the wheels moving in the direction of her house. He met the stare of the man as they moved past, holding it until he was out of sight. Whoever he was, he was one of Doyle’s men. Duke had no doubt about it. The fact members of this criminal gang were spending time watching his house made his gut twist.
Violet smoothed the sleeve of her pelisse. “You need not have manhandled me, you know.” Her gaze flitted over him, and he forced himself to unclench his jaw. “You could have just told me what was wrong.”
“I did not want to waste more time, that’s all.”
“And sitting at home, hoping for word on your father is not a waste of time?”
The tension returned. He didn’t disagree with her. In between waiting for a response from the kidnappers and writing to private investigators for any and all information they had on the various elements of the Moor Road gang, he’d spent too much time sitting idle. Even the favors he’d pulled in from the magistrates who were dealing with Doyle’s criminal actions had led nowhere. No one had seen his father in their usual area, and no one would talk.
“It is not like you to give up, Duke.”
“I’m not giving up,” he said tightly. “I’m doing everything I damned well can.”
She gripped his hand suddenly and he glanced at the juxtaposition between her light pink gloves and his dark green ones. Duke swallowed past the tension in his throat and met her gaze.
“All will be well.” She gave his hand a squeeze. “We’ll find him.”
“He’s already been in their hands too long and I’m...” He ran a hand over his face. “I’m busy hanging bloody Christmas decorations—” He held up a hand. “I know, I know, I’m not meant to curse.”
Violet offered a little tilt of her lips. “I think on this occasion it is allowed.”
He let his gaze flick over her mouth. More curse words threatened to escape him. He couldn’t very well moan about being distracted by Christmas decorations when he kept allowing himself to be distracted by her now could he?
“And, of course—” he hefted out a breath “—I’m impossibly distracted by whatever this is between us.”
Pressing her lips together, she met his gaze. It would be easier if she didn’t look at him so. If she was better at fighting the attraction. Perhaps if Violet told him in no uncertain terms that this was entirely wrong and neither of them should be risking their friendship regardless of the ill-timing of it all.
“Perhaps...” She made a vague gesture with one hand. “Perhaps we are simply friends who kiss occasionally.”
Apparently, Violet was not intending to make this easy on him.