Ripped by Shelly Dickson Carr

silver platter. Now, my boy, pay heed. There is a position in the War Office at Whitechapel, Director of Covert Operations. I can put your name forward in exchange for dropping this absurd notion of marrying—”
    â€œNever.”
    â€œAnd if I cut my granddaughter off without a penny? God’s teeth, man! What will you do then? Condemn her to live in a rat hole on a policeman’s salary? Where’s the pride in that, Major Brown, eh?”
    â€œI love your granddaughter with all my heart. I’d lay down my life for her. But no matter the outcome, let me be clear, Sir Godfrey. I will not be fobbed off with a promise of a directorship. I’ve made my way thus far on my wits, my fortitude, and my integrity. I’ve done my duty to my country and shall continue to do so. But I will not be bribed.”
    â€œHere’s a deal for you then, eh?” came the duke’s querulous voice. “Come back when you have risen in the ranks. I’ll take nothing less than your becoming deputy head of CID, or better yet, Commissioner of Scotland Yard, before I consider your request for my granddaughter’s hand in marriage.”
    â€œVery good, m’lord. But I want your promise in return that you will not hinder my efforts in any way. If you give me your word as a gentleman, you shall have mine in return. I shall not ask for Lady Beatrix’s hand again until I’ve risen to the topmost ranks of Scotland Yard, or”—he lowered his voice—“if our sovereign queen should deem to knight me for my . . . services.”
    â€œYou do that, son. You do that. But mind, it won’t be easy. You’ll have to achieve something mighty spectacular. Mighty spectacular indeed.”
    â€œI intend to, Sir Godfrey.”
    â€œSo we have a deal, then, eh, m’lad? You’re an ambitious, talented young man with a bright future. I admire self-made men such as yourself. Now then, I could use a spot of brandy. Let’s drink on it, shall we?”
    A minute later, Katie heard the clink of glasses followed by sounds as if the two were hurriedly swallowing their drinks.
    â€œYou may go now, Major Brown,” said the duke. “And tell Stebbins to send along my godchild, Miss Katherine, if you please. I drove in from the country just to see her. Fetch the child for me, there’s a good lad.”
    Katie raced down the center aisle of plants, nearly knocking over a pot of lavender. When she reached the iron-studded door at the far end, she turned full around, smoothed out her billowing skirts, and attempted to settle a complacent smile on her face just as Major Brown came charging through the glass door looking like an angry bear caught in a trap.
    Seeing her, he skidded to a halt. He looked nothing like what Katie had envisioned. In a ruggedly handsome face anchored on a thick neck above broad shoulders, his green eyes fastened on Katie’s.
    â€œA pleasure to meet you again, Miss Katherine.” An ironic smile twitched at the corners of his lips. “Sir Godfrey is expecting you. But you’re looking quite flushed. I trust nothing is amiss?”
    Sunlight, glinting through the glass dome overhead, highlighted the powerful, almost sinister angles of his jaw and cheekbones, and made the chestnut gleam of his hair appear several shades lighter than his moustache.
    â€œNo. Nothing’s wrong,” Katie said breezily, though she could feel the power of his cat-green eyes boring into her like heat piercing her skin. She flinched and pushed past. He knows I was listening , she told herself. Or he suspects.
    When Katie eased open the door to the duke’s study, the words “murder” and “England’s most notorious enemy” pounded in her head. It was clear from the conversation she’d just overheard that Major Brown had killed someone with the duke’s knowledge and consent, and quite possibly the Queen’s.
    Sir Godfrey, the