Free Elizabeth Boyle by Brazen Trilogy

robbed another?
    Down the street Cyril Delaney leapt down from his carriage. For a moment Giles thought that perhaps he had been too sure of his intuition, that Cyril was coming home alone. But halfway to the door the lady’s prey stopped and looked up and down the street to see if he was being watched. Returning to the curb, he held out his hand to the carriage’s second occupant.
    The street had seemed dark until she began her descent. Her white gown, the skirt billowing out in a cloud of glowing silk, illuminated the night. The Brazen Angel looked every inch the role she’d obviously chosen for the night— an innocent young girl. Her wig imitated the look of a convent maiden, falling down her bare shoulders and back in long glorious ringlets of golden blond hair.
    As if sensing some unforeseen danger, she turned and looked in their direction.
    Both men reeled back in their seats, but in the safety of the darkness Giles could still see her clearly. A mask once again covered her face, concealing her features. Her lips tightened into a serious line. Tipping her head slightly, she resembled a cat considering the safety of continuing into a dark cubbyhole.
    She’s afraid.
    Giles could see her caution, the war waging inside her. Would she dare continue inside, or bolt and run?
    Cyril approached her and said something. She took his outstretched hand. When he bent to kiss her fingers, she laughed, the sound rising lightly across the street and invading the deadly serious calm inside the Trahern carriage.
    The melody filled Giles’s ears, tantalizing him to lean closer.
    Any sign of indecision or fear melted away as she took control of the situation. She wrapped her fingers around Cyril’s arm and whispered into his ear. Her words, obviously of such a persuasive nature, prodded the man to leave her behind to take the steps two at a time and shoulder open the door for her entrance. The Brazen Angel continued up the stairs, her hips swaying slightly, her head held high and proud. Like a fine, well-fed feline, she sent her prey a benign yet meaningful glance as she swept past him, a look capable of enticing a man to his doom.
    Monty nearly called out as the door closed, until Giles’s scathing hot glare restrained the excitable duke down to a moderate squeak.
    ‘Tis the Angel, Giles. Just like you said.” Monty reached for the latch on the door. “We must stop her.”
    Giles stopped him. “Oh, no, we won’t. We’re going to sit here and wait this little drama play out.”
    Lights appeared in a ground-floor window.
    Tapping the roof of the carriage, Giles whispered quietly, “Michaels, move us slightly closer to the house and stay alert. I’m not sure how this will work, but when it does we’ll have to move fast.”
    Monty was less willing to listen to orders. “You cannot intend to leave her inside with him all alone?” He strained toward the door. “Everyone knows Delaney’s a horrible lecher. You’d think he’d have learned a lesson from his father’s example. Obviously, the scandal of having one’s father die the way he did in that disgraceful brothel wasn’t enough tarnish for the family name. From what I’ve heard the young whelp fully intends to take his family traditions to new lows. He pays top money for young girls to be—”
    Giles held up his hand to stave off the lurid description. “I’ll wager you a month’s rents from my Chester properties that our Angel will take Cyril’s money in less than an hour.”
    Monty sat back, his nose twitching with indecision. “And if she doesn’t? If . . . if . . . that wretched Cyril …” The poor duke appeared unable to finish his postulation.
    “If she’s not out in an hour we’ll go after her, pistols blazing and a detachment of the King’s own regiment at our backs.” Smiling, Giles leaned back in his seat.
    Monty’s gaze flitted from the house across the street back to meet Giles’s. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. “You’re