To Deceive A Duke

Chapter 17

Clarissa's eyes are fixed on the clock as the hands slowly click nearer to 11. Savoy Street has been locked down since half 10, people are hiding in their dark homes having been warned not to venture out. Tension consumes The One-Eyed Duke, the occupants are anxiously waiting for the clock to strike 11. The tables have been shoved to the side apart from a few of the small square ones that have been pushed together to create one long surface. Clarissa sits at the table on the side facing the door, which is guarded by Jack and Tom. Chuck stands guard behind her to the left, his arms folded and a dark glower on his face. Peter has a chair to the right of Clarissa, but he doesn't wait in it. He paces up and down the length of the pub, his hands twitching at his waist, the lack of protection is evidently unnerving the second in command. He snarls to himself as he reaches the bar, he turns and continues walking. 

"They will be here," Clarissa reassures, her eyebrows dancing with amusement at his antics. 

"I don't like this," Peter replies gruffly, "This has the potential to blow up in our faces." 

"Indeed," She agrees, "But I have little to no choice....unless you'd like to declare war on Daniel Cavendish yourself?"

He glares at her but halts his pacing when there is a knock on the door. Both men look at her for instructions. She corrects her posture, flipping her loose curls behind her shoulders and holds her head up high. She signals to Chuck to open the door. Peter sinks into his chair, stress radiating from his body. 

Chuck opens the door and in strides Lewis Baines and Winston Lestrade. Baines is the taller of the two men, he has a wiry beard that makes him look older than his 35 years, his dull olive eyes are wide in his pinched face and his nose is wonky, no doubt it has been broken many times. His clothes are clean and smart, his black boots are slightly scratched and he hugs an expensive dark coat around his thin athletic body. 

Lestrade favours his left leg as he enters the pub, his hand clutches at a walking stick but his stride is not weak. He has flowing chestnut hair and a youthful glow on his face despite the cuts on his jaw and temple. His suit is earthy green and checked, it compliments his creamy skin and brings out of the sea-green in his eyes. He can't be a few years older than Clarissa, his curved lips and pointed chin gives him the appearance of a cheeky imp when he smiles. 

Chuck shuts the door as the men approach the table, Clarissa and Peter rise to their feet to greet them. 

"Mr Baines, Mr Lestrade, it is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance at last." She says politely, holding out her hand. Baines shakes her hand, not smiling, but when it comes to Lestrade's turn to accept her hand he raises it to his lips and softly kisses the back of her knuckles, never breaking eye contact with her. 

Clarissa takes her hand back, the spot where he kissed it is tingling slightly. 

"Please sit." She gestures to the chairs and she and Peter retake their seats. 

"Can I get you a drink?" She asks, her eyes flickering to Chuck's, who takes the hint and strolls behind the bar. 

"I cannot visit The Strand and not sample their oh so good single malt," Lestrade says throatily, watching for her reaction. She recognises the praise with an inclination of her head. 

"I'll have a bourbon," Baines says while glancing around the pub suspiciously. Blank walls and empty chairs stare back. 

"Of course," Clarissa replies, she tilts her head and watches him shift sceptically. "I can assure you Mr Baines that none of my people hiding in walls to attack you, I wouldn't do you that dishonour." 

His face snaps to hers, his expression unreadable. "I see." He says slowly, "I expected more...uh security for our first meeting, forgive me." 

"Do I have a need for more security?" She questions, folding her arms on the table.