Mistress of Sins (Dredthorne Hall #3) - Hazel Hunter Page 0,32

he had said. “What would you have me do, sir?”

“Use your gift to your advantage,” the old man said sternly. “If you are clever, I think you may live to see the morning.”

“What am I to look for, Mr. Thorne?” As he started to float back to the house, Jennet reached out without thinking and touched the sleeve of his jacket. Her hand passed through it, and when she snatched it back it felt as cold as if it were encased in ice.

“What they cannot see, Miss Reed.” Thorne glanced back at her. “An end to the curse on Dredthorne Hall. You must be the one to break it.”

Once the last of the guests had left, Pickering paid and dismissed the servants for the night. The speed with which his temporary staff left amused him, for he didn’t share their fear of the old house. Dredthorne Hall had the sort of shabby, pathetic charm possessed by an aging French courtesan who refused to surrender to the ravages of time. One had to admire that sort of tenacity.

Catherine Tindall had surprised him, a rare experience. He had enjoyed burying himself in the soft vise of her quim, and plumbing the warm, wet paradise of her lips. He wasn’t too certain if he cared for the other things she had done while fellating him, but the entire interlude had been refreshingly novel. Perhaps when she returned to the city he would make a point of calling on her, and arrange another tryst.

His smile faded as he considered the task ahead. He and Greystone would ride until dawn to reach London, where he would deliver the goods and then report to his superiors. His recommendations would not be welcome, but after seeing the baron’s reaction to Jennet Reed, he could no longer be relied upon as expected. Indeed, he felt certain that if William returned to his work, he might expose them all.

Pickering entered the study to retrieve his satchel, and heard the door slam shut behind him. He glanced over his shoulder expecting to see Foray or Greystone, and looked into the dark, flat eyes of a killer.

Unwelcome as they were, it seemed his last guests had arrived.

“I say, the ball is over, dear chap.” After noting the knife scars on the intruder’s hands, he started for his desk, only to find another brute blocking his path. “You gentlemen should finish out the night at the village tavern. The wine tastes little better than swill, but their ale proves surprisingly good.” He waggled his brows. “The little blonde at the taps is even better.”

“Sit down,” the one with the scars growled, his English as thick as his muscles. “Ruban comes to speak with you.”

Pickering feigned a puzzled look as he did as he was told, but a chill collected in his chest. He knew Ruban’s reputation to be well-earned, and his own limited skills useless in this situation. He would never again leave this room alive. Since he had long ago accepted that as a very possible fate, that left tending to matters to protect those who might survive the night.

Everything depended on Greystone now.

Oddly Pickering thought of Jennet Reed, and the sharpness in her lovely eyes. Since he preferred skillful whores to ladies, and remaining unencumbered rather than playing the devoted husband, Pickering felt few regrets. He wasn’t sorry he had bedded her friend, but he regretted his pretense of pursuing Jennet. She was a true lady, and her heart still belonged to another. He found himself simply wishing he could see her smile one last time, and hear that delightful laugh of hers. Of all the women he had ever admired, she was the most superb.

He also had to put an end to this farce before Ruban arrived to question him, so he turned his thoughts to his duty. The henchmen guarding him seemed nervous, and not particularly clever. He had encountered many such men in his time, and knew exactly how to provoke them.

“I think there has been a terrible mistake.” Casually he picked up a file containing the deeds to Dredthorne. “I do have something that may be of interest to your emperor, however. If I give it to you, will you spare my life?”

The scarred agent smiled, showing too many teeth. “But of course.”

Pickering stood and came around the desk, doing his best to appear hopeful and eager. As soon as he drew near the hearth he flung the file into it, setting it aflame. The big