“And then, we can snatch him,” Mr. Fort said. “And bring him to you, My Lord, for questioning.”
Adam smiled. The plan would ensure that they had the upper hand. “Perfect. Well done, the both of you.”
“All in a good night’s work,” Mr. Fort assured him.
“Take both footmen,” Adam said. “They’re both young and strong. You can make use of the carriage and Mr. Banks, as well.” Mr. Banks would be back soon—he had taken Susannah to tea with Adam’s mother.
“Thank you, My Lord,” Mr. Fort said. He glanced over at his brother, who nodded.
They all stood up, now that their business was included. Adam shook both of their hands, then walked downstairs with them, to discuss the plan with the footmen.
* * *
After she had returned from her tea, she had changed into her simple maid’s frock with her pinafore. It felt like she was living two separate lives at once. She was about to step from her life as a maid, to her life as the Countess of Malmore. The change made her head spin.
Susannah was mopping the floor in the ballroom. It wasn’t often used, since Adam never threw any parties. Regardless, Mr. Howard made sure that someone cleaned the floor in there. It was marble, with a large rose in the center.
The walls were painted a deep Prussian blue, and there was a large crystal chandelier overhead. It was a chore to keep dusted. The paintings on the walls had been removed sometime before Susannah had arrived. Where they had once been, there were still darker spaces in the paint.
As she worked, she wondered if there was anything that she could use it for. She considered having writers there to discuss their works, give readings. The thought brought her much joy.
Adam had said that she could be friends with whomever she liked.
What if I became a supporter of the written word?
She thought about female writers. There weren’t many. Surely, they were out there, looking for a Countess to help them out. She would be able to support them, give them a place to be heard by someone.
She hummed to herself as she worked; the door to the ballroom opened, and she looked up. She beamed when she saw Adam walking toward her.
“Good morning,” Adam said, smiling.
“You look well,” she replied, leaning on the mop.
“As do you,” he replied, placing his hands on her hips, and pulling her close. He kissed her in a way that made her head spin. Susannah smiled up at the man that she would marry. His nearness caused a warmth within her, much like the way she felt when she drank brandy. It heated her blood, made her cheeks pink.
He glanced around at the ballroom as if he had entirely forgotten its existence.
“This room is rather underused,” he murmured. “I so rarely come in here.”
“I’ll find a use for it.”
I already have.
“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, the corners of his lips curving upward as he tilted his head to the side curiously.
“Yes,” she replied, stoutly. “I want to support literature.”
He nodded, looking around. “It would be good for readings. The acoustics are just right.”
“I know you don’t like being called away from your lab,” she said, biting her lip.
“So long as it’s not a society ball where I have to pretend that I like and agree with everyone—”
“I can agree to that. Any news?” she asked, suddenly wondering why he was there. Usually, he was working at this hour.
“Mr. Fort and his brother stopped by with some news,” he said. “They’ve found him…the man with the scar.”
“They have? In only three days’ time?” Mr. Fort was a surprising person. She’d always thought that he was self-involved. However, when he was needed, he really came through.
“Yes. Apparently, Horace Micklewhite does business out of the back of a seedy pub over by the docks. Anyone can find him there between ten-of-the-clock and midnight.”
“Sounds about right.” Susannah had never been to the docks. She imagined it was a dangerous place. She was nervous to hear what he planned to do.
“Indeed.” He wrapped his arms around her, drawing her close. She leaned her head against his chest. She could hear his heart beating steadily.
“What are you planning to do?” she asked, inhaling his now-familiar scent. His arm held her tightly. They were strong, the muscles hard.
“I’m sending both Mr. Forts, along with the footmen and the carriage. They will pick him up and bring him here for a chat.”
“How exciting.” She was relieved that he didn’t plan to go himself. She couldn’t imagine waiting, wondering if he was safe.
“It is.” His lips were against her hair, his breath was warm against her cheek.
“Can I wait up with you?”
“I don’t want you there when I interrogate him.”
“Why not?” She frowned, turning so that she could look him in the eye.
“I don’t know how dangerous he is,” he explained, his fingers brushing her cheek. “I don’t want him to see how important you are to me.”
“I could help,” she said. He shook his head.
“Like in chess, you never reveal the Queen,” he said, kissing her. She felt the kiss all of the way down to her toes. His hands pressed into the small of her back, pushing her closer to him.
His touch drove her to distraction. He trailed kisses along her neck, and she tilted her head to give him free rein. He paused at the collar of her frock, lifting her chin with his fingers.
He planted another kiss on her lips. This time, it was lingering, soft. He looked her in the eyes. Her pulse was racing, and there were butterflies in her stomach, though these were pleasant.
I want to be his. More than this, even.
The promise of more was in his gaze. She could tell that he was thinking of it.
“All I want is to carry you upstairs,” he said, confirming it. He leaned in. “Soon.”
He raised an eyebrow. She nodded, unable to find her voice. He smiled, clasping his hands behind his back. He turned and walked out, whistling to himself.
Susannah smiled, thinking pleasantly of all that he promised. She returned to her work, daydreaming to herself.
Chapter 34
Adam waited up for the group to return from nabbing the scarred man. He knew that it would be rough going, and that it would be difficult to get information out of him. He sat in the parlor, sipping a cup of black coffee. He wanted to be as alert as possible. He knew that Susannah planned to wait up in the library. He would tell her everything, as soon as there was something to tell.
The clock over the mantle struck one in the morning. Any time, now, they would be arriving.
He heard the sound of horses’ hooves, so he walked to the window just as the carriage pulled up in front of the house. He peered out from behind the drawn curtains.
A whole group emerged from inside of his sleek black barouche-landau. There were the footmen, dragging a bound figure. It was late, so no one was about. He felt nervous—what if one of the neighbors happened to be up? What if they saw?
Adam was acquainted with most of the neighbors, but they certainly weren’t close. He so rarely went out to visit with anyone…he couldn’t imagine having to explain why he had kidnapped someone…but the front door opened, and they all vanished inside quickly.
Adam breathed a sigh of relief. His pulse was racing. He quickly composed himself. He was going to need to pull this off. He knew that he was going to need to frighten this Horace Micklewhite, who was, no doubt, a hardened criminal.
Mr. Howard led the group into the parlor. They looked like a ragtag bunch—all of them dressed in dirty, dark clothing. It was clear that Micklewhite had put up a fight—William had a black eye, and Mr. Benjamin Fort had a bloodied nose.
Micklewhite’s clothes were torn and rumpled. Though he worked out of a pub by the docks, his clothes were made of fine cloth, which surprised Adam. The two footmen each had an arm, dragging
the bound figure between them. He had a cloth sack over his head.
“Unhand me!” the prisoner grumbled in a smoke-roughened voice which muffled by the sack. “I will have you all pay for this!”
“Not likely,” Mr. Fort’s brother said. “Not when you’re all trussed up like a Christmas turkey.”
“Were you seen?” Adam asked.
“No, My Lord,” Mr. Fort assured him as the group thrust the bound figure into one of the chairs. Mr. Fort’s brother wrapped a rope around his upper body, tying him securely to the chair.
Adam’s heart was racing. He had never done a thing like this before. He was going to have to learn quick—the next few moments would define how the interrogation would go. He wasn’t usually a very forceful personage, but he would need to put the fear of God into this man.
When the sack was removed, Adam stood there, staring at the man, who scowled back at him. Adam had never seen Horace Micklewhite before in his life. He had ice-blue eyes, which regarded him angrily. He was a plain man, though he had a hard look about him. His nose was crooked, clearly having been broken several times before. The question-mark shaped scar on his temple was very distinctive—it was a nasty scar which had nearly split Micklewhite’s temple open.
“How did you get that scar?” Adam asked.
Micklewhite glared at him. “None of your business.”
Adam nodded, shrugging. “I suppose it’s not. I was just curious. It seems to have been a nasty accident.”
“T’weren’t no accident.”
Adam tilted his head. Micklewhite stared back at him, clearly impatient with this line of questioning.
Might as well get down to business.
“Do you know why you’re here?” Adam asked, using it as his opener. He folded his hands behind his back.
“Don’t matter,” the man growled, not afraid of Adam in the least. “I know who you are, Malmore.” His face twisted in a nasty smile. “I know where I am, and as soon as I get free, you’ll pay for this.”
Adam laughed. “I know who you are, Horace,” Adam said, pleased by the way Micklewhite recoiled in surprise. “I know your name, and where you do your business, and what sort of a business it is. But I want to know—who hired you to come here? Why did they want my device?”
“I’ll never tell you that,” the man said. “My clients pay me extra to keep my mouth shut. I suppose you’re planning to have a nice chat, then? I don’t see you torturing information out of me. Your hands are too soft-looking.”
Adam smiled, leaning in. “You have no idea what I’m capable of,” he said, letting his tone shift dangerously. It didn’t matter that he had no plan to injure this man. As he watched Micklewhite’s eyes widen in fear, he knew that he only needed to sound dangerous.
“It simply doesn’t make sense,” Adam went on. “The device was not finished with testing. I was planning to release it to the public when it was ready. There was no necessity to steal it at all. Unless, the individual who hired you wished that no one could have it?”
As he spoke, he studied Horace Micklewhite, who stared back at him, giving nothing away. There was a wide grin on the thief’s face. Adam decided to try to scare it out of him.
“You sit there, smiling, but my maid heard you and your men breaking into the house. She arrived, just in time for the blast. She was hit full force.”
Hopefully, he doesn’t know that the door was locked.
The ruse worked. Micklewhite turned pale, his eyes going wary.
“She saw us?”
Adam shrugged, his eyes widening. He held out both of his hands, opening them wide. “I presume that she saw everything. Unfortunately, I can’t ask her. She was killed instantly.”
Simone was fine, of course. She was already up and about, helping out around the house with small tasks. But Micklewhite didn’t know that. His eyes widened even further. He clearly didn’t know. Adam watched as he swallowed.
“All I have to do is hand you to the constables,” Adam said. “All wrapped up for them. They’ll send you right to the gallows.”
The thief was clearly sweating. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would,” Adam declared. “A woman is dead and it’s all your fault. However, if you tell me who hired you, maybe I’ll be willing to…look the other way.” He stared at the thief, not blinking.
There was a brief moment, where Micklewhite considered all of his options. He began to nod.
“All right, all right! I’ll tell you.”
“Who?”
“It…it was Lord Wrentbour,” the man said. Adam was so surprised that his mind went blank. Gerard had been there. Adam had seen him off, just prior to the explosion.
“You’re lying.” There was no way that his oldest friend would do something like this. Gerard knew that Adam planned to release the plans, as soon as he was finished testing it thoroughly. It could only be one person—Mr. Percival Sullyard.
Micklewhite shook his head. “No, no, I’m not,” he insisted, desperation in his voice. “Please, My Lord—I didn’t want to hurt her. We thought no one was around.” He looked Adam dead in the eye. “It was Lord Wrentbour that hired me. I’m sure of it.”
“I need proof,” Adam murmured. He couldn’t believe this man’s word. He was a thief by profession.
“In my pocket,” he said, angling his hip toward Adam. “There’s the pouch with the payment that he gave me. It has his crest on it.”
Adam reached into his pocket and pulled out the pouch. With his own eyes, he saw the familiar crest of the Earl of Wrentbour with its two rearing white harts, which seemed to be hugging a lily of the valley on a red shield. There was no mistaking it.
It was heavy with coin. Adam could hardly believe it.
“You’ve been paid to set him up,” Adam said, still refusing to believe it. He could believe that Mr. Sullyard would cover his tracks. He had the money to do so.
“No, no I wasn’t, My Lord,” the thief insisted, shaking his head. “Please—I didn’t mean to kill her. It was a horrible accident.”
Adam glanced away. He put the pouch into his jacket pocket. It settled inside heavily, its weight against his hip. He would have to do his own digging to prove it. He didn’t know how. He was still reeling from the revelation that his friend had, maybe, betrayed him. For what? What reason could he possibly have?
“I will keep your part in my maid’s death from the authorities, if you do not go to Lord Wrentbour,” he said, turning toward Horace Micklewhite. “I want to do my own questioning. But I won’t be able to if you talk.” Adam had no desire to keep this man under arrest in his home. Just kidnapping him off of the street was more than he had ever desired to do.
Micklewhite shook his head. “I won’t. I promise.”
“I will hold you to your word.” Adam kept his tone firm.
“You are so gracious, My Lord,” Micklewhite said, nearly blubbering. “I owe you my life.”
“You would do well to remember it,” Adam told him. “If a word of this gets to Lord Wrentbour, then I will immediately go to the constables and alert them of your part in this.”
Micklewhite was nodding vehemently. Adam turned toward his co-conspirators. “Take him back to where you found him.”
* * *
Susannah was waiting for Adam in the library. She sat, curled up in a chair, her book of poems in her lap. She was sleepy, but her eagerness to know what had been learned kept her up.
Every so often, she peered up at the clock on the mantle. She smiled to herself as she beheld the portrait of Adam. She remembered the first time that she had seen him, her very first day of work. He had come in and then gone out again without ever once noticing her.
She laughed to herself, softly. When he was focusing, nothing—not even the woman that he was going to fall in love with—could catch his attention.
It was very late when the door opened and he walked in.
“Well?” she asked, closing her book and setting it aside. “Who was it?”
“Lord Wrentbour, if Horace Micklewhite is to be believed.”
“Good Lord,” she said, “really?” She hadn’t much liked Lord Wrentbour upon meeting him, but she would have never guessed that he would be capable of betraying his oldest friend in this manner.
Lured Into Sin By The Wicked Earl (Steamy Historical Regency Romance) Page 25