Who Speaks for the Damned (Sebastian St. Cyr #15) - C. S. Harris Page 0,73

It’s Seaforth—the Earl of Seaforth. He hired us. I swear to God, that’s the honest truth.”

“Why should I believe you?”

Greasy Coat’s eyes bulged. “Gorblimey, lady. I couldn’t make somethin’ like that up if’n I wanted to. Some lord, hirin’ me t’ find a half-Chinese lad? Ain’t no way I could come up with a tale that batty.”

“Did he hire you to kill Nicholas Hayes too?”

“What? I ain’t never killed nobody!”

“If you—” Hero broke off as one of the man’s confederates who must have circled back around slammed into her.

“We lost ’im, Jack!” shouted the man as Hero staggered. “Come on and let’s get outta ’ere!”

He took off running again, but he had successfully distracted Hero long enough to give Greasy Coat a chance to scramble to his feet. He darted out into the street that ran along the north side of the green, oblivious to the team of shires bearing down on him.

“Oy there!” yelled the dray’s driver as the near horse reared up in fright, its big, flailing hooves knocking the man down. The driver was reining in hard, but it was too late. The off leader plunged, then reared up to come down on the man as he tried to roll out of the way. The thudding hooves crushed the man’s head with a sickening crunch.

“Dear God,” said someone behind Hero.

From the far side of the green came a child’s shout. “I hope you’re reborn as a hungry ghost!”

But when Hero turned and looked, Ji was gone.

Chapter 44

C lad in natty yellow trousers and a coat with exaggerated shoulders, the Third Earl of Seaforth was in Bond Street shepherding three of his sons and a very pregnant wife through Dubourg’s Celebrated Exhibition of Cork Models of Roman Antiquities when Sebastian walked up to him and said quietly, “We need to talk. Now. I’ve spoken to the owner and he has kindly offered to lend us a private room for a few minutes.”

Seaforth gave a startled laugh. “Good God. Not now, man.”

He would have turned away, but Sebastian caught him by the arm and hauled him back around. “You sorry son of a bitch,” hissed Sebastian, still keeping his voice low. “It’s only the presence of your family that has kept me from landing you a facer here and now. The men you hired just attacked my wife.”

“I didn’t hire anyone—”

“You did. You hired them to get rid of the boy Nicholas Hayes brought back from China. But that’s the problem with hiring killers. They can be a wee bit hard to control.”

“Papa,” said the eldest of Seaforth’s red-haired, freckle-faced boys, pointing to a projection on one of the buildings. “What’s this supposed to be?”

Sebastian glanced at the child, who looked to be perhaps eight or nine. “I suggest we take advantage of that private room. You don’t want your wife and children to hear what I have to say.”

Seaforth yanked his arm from Sebastian’s grasp and stalked toward where an anxious-looking Mr. Dubourg was waiting to usher them into a small, untidy office.

“You’re wrong, you know,” said Seaforth as soon as the door closed behind them. “I didn’t hire those men to kill the boy. I simply told them to make him go away. I thought perhaps they could sell him to a chimney sweep or something.”

“He’s too big for a sweep’s boy. Apart from which, nine out of ten children sold to chimney sweeps don’t live to see their freedom, so it’s basically a death sentence anyway. The truth is, you don’t care what happens to that child as long as he disappears.”

“Of course I don’t care. Are you telling me you wouldn’t do the same in my position?” Seaforth’s voice had taken on the aggrieved tone of a man who always, always, sees himself as the undeserving victim of his own failings and deficiencies.

Sebastian gave a faint, disbelieving shake of his head. “Is he Nicholas Hayes’s legitimate son?”

“I don’t know! You think I could afford to take the time to inquire into the particulars?”

“Did you pay the same men to kill Nicholas?”

Seaforth’s jaw went slack. “No! I swear it!”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Ask them! They’ll tell you! I hired them the morning after Nicholas was found dead.”

“Used someone else to kill Nicholas, did you?”

“No!”

“Why the bloody hell should I believe you? You obviously not only knew Nicholas had come back to England, but you even knew he’d brought a boy with him. A boy who might well be his son and thus heir to everything you thought