A Rogue No More - Lana Williams Page 0,73

parents’ marriage. But lust certainly didn’t fit what he felt for Annabelle. It was far more as if their betrothal had forced a hidden part of himself to the surface—one that had hope. He shook his head at his fanciful thoughts.

The day was a fine one with the sun chasing away the morning fog, and he decided to walk part of the way to the office as it would provide time to think, and walking often made that easier. The townhome had been a nice distraction and allowed him to ponder something other than the murders and the East India Company, but now he needed to decide the next course of action in the investigation.

Though Pickford provided a few answers, what he’d told them had also created questions. Thomas had more than enough of those already. Attempting to uncover the convoluted motivations of East India seemed impossible. The Company had become a complicated enterprise that acted more like its own country than merely a business. Determining a way to stop them, let alone bring anyone involved to justice, was a daunting task.

Yet he couldn’t let it rest.

Frustration filled him. He should be spending his time at the publishing company, especially now that he had an even better reason to make it a success—Annabelle. And he should focus on convincing her that their marriage would also be a success. She acted less than certain in that regard, although she responded favorably enough when she was in his arms.

He was grateful for the passion they found together, and despite the temptation to take advantage of the privacy they’d had the previous day at Aberland’s, he’d resisted. He intended to start their marriage on the proper footing. Their wedding night would arrive soon enough, and he wanted it to be special.

Deciding he’d lingered overlong, he caught a hackney to take him to Artemis Press. East India and all the rest would have to wait for one more day. He intended to take today for his own and that meant working at the office.

Within a quarter of an hour, he was at his desk, drawing a pile of waiting manuscripts closer. He’d already completed the edits on Annabelle’s second book and was both excited and nervous to share his thoughts with her. That conversation would be a true test of their relationship. While his suggestions were modest, he hoped she’d see how pleased he was with the story and would take them not as criticism but as a way to make the book even stronger.

In the meantime, he needed to find another story with the potential for profit. A Gothic tale caught his interest. Most were too far-fetched to be taken seriously, but the author had done a fine job of weaving a young lady in dire straits into an uncomfortable but mysterious position. He made a note to have Bing request more information from the author.

As if reading Thomas’s mind, Bing appeared in the doorway, eyes wide.

“What is it?” Thomas asked, concern creeping up his spine.

“Someone to see you, sir.”

Before Thomas had the chance to respond, Sir Alexander Bolton strode into his office, a grim look upon his face.

Thomas stood slowly even as his stomach sank. Apparently, he wouldn’t have the day to focus on what he wanted after all.

“Sir Alexander.” He nodded at Bing to close the door. “To what do I owe the honor of your visit?”

“We have some unfinished business.” He sat in the chair before the desk and gestured for Thomas to do the same.

“What might that be?” Thomas asked as he complied, a feeling of dread creeping over him.

“You continue to insert yourself into matters that don’t pertain to you. Therefore, I’ve come to explain the situation so you understand what’s expected.”

Thomas’s temper rose at the man’s condescending tone.

“I intend to ruin Sir Reginald Gold. The bastard stole a contract from me, which cost me a fortune—the same contract that gained him his knighthood. The loss of it nearly destroyed my family.” Bitterness laced the man’s tone. “Sir Reginald will feel the same pain my family and I did when he’s forced to sell for next to nothing.”

“That must’ve happened years ago.” Yet Thomas could see by the look in his eyes that time hadn’t eased the supposed insult.

“I’d nearly succeeded in making him sell for almost nothing before Aberland stuck his nose in the business and managed to turn things around,” Sir Alexander continued as if Thomas hadn’t spoken. “That forced me to adjust my plans, which