I've Got My Duke to Keep Me Warm (The Lords of Worth) by Kelly Bowen Page A

shoulder, her one eye that still opened met his. “Thank you,” she whispered again, this time to Jamie. He simply nodded, swallowing the urge to protest that he hadn’t really done anything. And then, without a backward glance, Polly and her guide were gone into the night.
    Gisele was already emptying the rest of the pack, lining up jars of what looked like lantern oil.
    “You’re going to burn the place?” Jamie asked in sudden comprehension.
    “To the ground.”
    “Why?”
    “Fire is best whenever possible. It’s all-consuming, and it destroys any evidence that may be left behind. It has the added benefit of becoming a very public tragedy, making believers out of an entire community as opposed to a single man.” Gisele’s voice was grim.
    Jamie stared at her before moving closer to where she crouched. “Believers of what? I don’t—” He froze as he caught sight of the spectacle laid out in front of the hearth. “What the hell is that?”
    A skeleton lay across the floor near the meager fire, the eyeless sockets of a skull staring sightlessly in his direction. Polly’s abandoned dress had been draped over the torso and legs and, with a morbid horror, Jamie saw the glint of the ring Polly had relinquished placed carefully on a bony digit.
    Gisele barely glanced up at him. “It’s one thing to set a fire in the hopes someone believes a soul has perished in it. It’s another to convince them wholly. Polly Tuck needs to die tonight in order to live.”
    Jamie gaped first at the bones, some with sinew still holding them in place, and then at Gisele. “Jesus. Is that really necessary?”
    “While it is unlikely Garrett Tuck would ever be able to find his wife, it’s always better if one such as he never has reason to look. And there are the others to consider as well.”
    Jamie raked his hands through his hair in agitation. “Others?”
    Gisele was twisting the lids off jars with clinical precision. “Mr. Tuck already threatened Polly’s sister the first time she ran. What do you think might happen now if he believed she survived and he went looking?”
    Jamie was struggling to comprehend the pure cunning that was unfolding before his eyes. This wasn’t a cleverly rehearsed play, it was a tactical campaign, planned and plotted by a web of individuals beyond the scope of his imagination.
    It made the fine hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “And your nameless friends just happened to have a body in the back of their cart?” he demanded.
    “The Darling brothers are devoted purveyors of fine specimens for the advancement of the medical research field,” Gisele said calmly as she stood, a jar in her hand. She dumped the contents over the table, where it splashed and soaked into the skirts of the abandoned dress. The overpowering scent of lantern oil assaulted his nose. “They are in possession of any number of bodies.”
    Holy hell. It took Jamie two tries before he was able toutter a sentence. “They’re resurrection men?” He was rapidly revising the list of questions he would be demanding answers to when he wasn’t in the middle of committing a multitude of felonies in a wretched cottage on the edge of Leicester. “Body snatchers?”
    “They do not snatch bodies,” Gisele said, sounding impatient. “They collect those that remain unclaimed from prisons or workhouses or any number of unfortunate situations. What they provide has helped surgeons and physicians save the lives of patients everywhere. Soldiers included.” She paused. “And tonight it means a woman and her child will survive. Don’t you dare think I take that lightly.” She stalked over to the pile of rotting thatch Jamie had brought in and kicked it across the dirt floor before she upended the contents of another jar over the mess. The smell of oil in the cramped space became suffocating.
    Jamie stared at her. “Are you insane? You’ve trusted a woman to the care of two criminals.”
    Gisele’s face flushed visibly,