Dukes Prefer Blondes by Loretta Chase Read Free Book Online Page B

have worn.
    He did not understand how she’d found him out then and he did not understand why she’d appeared in court. Her disguise told him she oughtn’t to be there, and must have come at some risk. Why?
    St. James’s Street
    Monday 7 September
    O y! You!”
    Radford glanced toward the voice.
    A young male in fantastical lilac and gold livery jerked his head toward a passage near the shop window where Radford lounged.
    The boy had taken notice of him some minutes ago, but didn’t leave his post at the dressmakers’ shop door immediately. After he’d ushered in a lady, the footboy or porter or whatever he was casually crossed St. James’s Street, summoned Radford in this suave manner, and stepped into Crown and Scepter Court.
    Radford followed him into the narrow passage. He saw that from here the boy could keep an eye on Maison Noirot’s door and dart across the street, should he be needed.
    â€œWell, then, whatchyer want?” the lad said.
    Radford regarded the blinding livery for a moment. Then, “Jonesy,” he said. “That’s a clever disguise.”
    â€œIt’s my clothes ,” the boy said. “I got a job.”
    â€œAh.”
    â€œAnd it ain’t Jonesy, neither. It’s Fenwick.” The boy’s eyes narrowed, daring Radford to laugh.
    â€œI heard something to that effect.” Though he advised others to hire detectives, Radford was quite a good one. His profession often required it. His nature demanded it. He was drawn to mysteries and puzzles the way other men were drawn to gaming or drink.
    He’d pursued the Fenwick riddle among his numerous contacts on the London streets.
    â€œThe French dressmakers,” Radford said, nodding toward the shop opposite.
    â€œThey stole me right off the street.” The boy leaned toward him, his face a picture of shocked innocence.
    â€œI heard it was off the back of a carriage, when you were trying to empty a gentleman’s pockets. That was stupid. And you were one of the few of that lot with a brain.”
    â€œIt’s a long story.”
    â€œDon’t tell it to me,” Radford said. “I haven’t time. I need to send a message to a female.” He explained.
    Fenwick stared at him for a moment, then went off into whoops. The hilarity lasted for some time.
    Radford waited.
    â€œYou!” the boy said when he caught his breath.
    â€œIt’s not—­” what you think , Radford very nearly said. He caught himself in time. What the boy thought was immaterial.
    â€œYer barkin’ up the wrong tree, Raven,” the boy said. “All her gennelmen is nobs, mainly, and you can get in line behind the other five hundred and sixty.”
    â€œYes, well, I’m cleverer than any of them.”
    Fenwick cogitated upon this, his expression skeptical.
    â€œIt’s about the truant boy, Toby Coppy,” Radford said. “You do remember? You led her to me the other day.” He studied Fenwick’s face. “By the way, I notice the swelling has gone down.”
    â€œHe looks worse’n me!”
    â€œTilsley does look a good deal worse, and his bruises, unlike yours, don’t match his regalia.”
    Fenwick narrowed his eyes at him.
    â€œYour ensemble , I believe the dressmakers would call it,” Radford said.
    Fenwick looked down at his lilac and gold splendor. “They said I could pick what I wanted.”
    â€œAnd you wanted to look like Louis XIV,” Radford said.
    Fenwick’s brow knit. “I fink I know which one he was,” he said. “They been teaching me. I can read and write now. And I can do ands.”
    â€œHands?” Radford said.
    â€œ Ands ,” Fenwick said more loudly, as if to a deaf person or foreigner. “What’s fourteen and six and six again? Twenty-­six. Ands! ”
    â€œAh. Well, then, what does sixpence and sixpence come to?”
    â€œTwelvepence. A