Free The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie by Jennifer Ashley Page A

Kilmorgan, had a network to rival that of the best police force in Europe. But Hart, as head of the Mackenzie family, would demand to know why Daniel wanted to find the Bastiens, would want every detail, and wouldn’t help until he was satisfied with Daniel’s explanation. Or he’d refuse point-blank. Even if Hart did help, his assistance always came with a price. If Sutton was a cunning man, Hart Mackenzie was the very devil. Who knew what he’d ask from Daniel in return?
    Then there was Chief Inspector Fellows, another uncle, who was as tenacious in pursuit of his prey as any of the Mackenzies. Fellows could uncover Violette Bastien’s whereabouts faster than Hart if he wanted to.
    The trouble was, Fellows was a stickler for the law. The Bastiens were frauds, they’d absconded without paying rent after tearing up the house, not to mention Violette swatting Daniel over the head and leaving him in the street. Fellows would find Violette all right, then arrest her and her mother and turn them over to the magistrates.
    No, Fellows must be kept clear of Daniel’s problems. Daniel’s uncle Mac would ask as many questions as Hart, and Cameron, Daniel’s father, would as well. Cameron would be livid to learn anyone had hurt Daniel, and not be sympathetic to Mademoiselle Violette’s plight.
    The only member of the family who could be discretion itself was Ian—Ian never talked to anyone about anything if he could help it.
    The trick with Uncle Ian was persuading him to be interested. Once Ian found a puzzle intriguing, nothing and no one could stop him solving it. On the other hand, if Ian decided he had no interest in the problem, it would cease to exist for him, and no amount of persuasion would convince him otherwise.
    A risk, but one Daniel would take. He shouted to the coachman to drive him to Belgrave Square.

Chapter 6

    The handsome house in which Daniel’s uncle Ian, aunt Beth, and their three young children lived belonged to Beth. She’d inherited it in a trust from a woman for whom she’d been a companion, and the trust did not obligate her to hand the deed over to her husband.
    Not that Ian cared one way or another—the man had little use for sumptuous houses or piles of money. Uncle Ian could fish for a week in the wilds of Scotland, sleeping on the ground rolled in his kilt. He’d be as content living in a hovel with his wife and wee ones as he was in this monstrosity of elegance.
    “Afternoon, Ames,” Daniel said to the stolid, middle-aged butler, who had replaced the butler Beth had inherited when she’d finally persuaded the elderly man to retire. “My uncle about?”
    “Yes, sir. In the lower study, sir. I believe he’s practicing . . . mathematics.”
    The butler intoned this as though relating that Ian was busy casting magic spells. But then, when Ian went at his maths problems, he might as well be doing magic for all anyone else understood. While Daniel used his love of mathematics to build things and tinker with the real world, Ian descended into a world of theory where only the sharpest minds could follow.
    Disturbing Ian while he was working an equation . . . That was tricky.
    Fortunately, Daniel had secret weapons at his disposal. He thanked Ames and went, not to the study, but up the stairs to the nursery.
    He walked into the sunny room at the top of the house to find three children in the middle of lessons with their rather prudish governess, Miss Barnett. Hart had tried to engage Miss Barnett, one of the most sought-after governesses in England, for his own children, but the lady had preferred the quiet of Ian’s house to the constant whirl of Hart’s. Hart had gone into one of his ducal furies, but Ian, of course, had won the battle. Ian generally did.
    Ian and Beth had three children: Jamie, the oldest, going on nine; Belle, between the ages of seven and eight; and Megan, about to turn six. They each had dark hair highlighted with red and fine blue eyes. They all were