Mistress of Sins (Dredthorne Hall #3) - Hazel Hunter Page 0,36

until she could see his back. When she didn’t see a knife, she rolled him to his back and then shook him as hard as she could manage.

A low groan came from his chest, and his shoulders moved under her hands.

No one would have blamed Jennet for what she did next. She dropped down on him, plastering herself against his chest, and held onto him as she fought back her sobs. He would not die, not in this house, not tonight. They would work together and find a way out of this.

Once she had regained her control, Jennet pushed herself upright.

“I need your help, my lord. Doubtless you have survived worse,” she added, grimacing as she tried to pull him into a sitting position. “That scar above your eye attests to your fortitude as well as your foolishness. We will need more of the former if we are to see the dawn.” She was babbling, but considering what she had endured, she was entitled. “Come now. Look at me. Show me you have regained some of your senses.”

“Jenny.” He opened one eye and peered at her. “What the devil?”

“Arthur Pickering has been murdered,” she told him. “I found his body in the study. Someone stabbed him in the back. He was burning something, I think. When I called for the servants to help me, three masked men seized and dragged me here. They spoke French. Did they attack you?”

“Yes, outside.” Greystone turned his head. “Where are we?”

“I believe it is Dredthorne Hall’s much-lauded hidden library.” She nodded toward the door. “We have been locked in.”

“Of course, we have.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “For God’s sake, why did you stay? You should have left with the others.”

“I fell asleep upstairs.” Was he going to blame her for their predicament? “By the time I awoke everyone had gone. Why are you still here?”

Greystone rose with slightly unsteady movements, examining the room around them before he went and listened at the door. He returned to help her up and looked all over her.

“Did they harm you?” When she shook her head, he turned her toward the window and touched her swollen cheek, his fingers gentle. “And this?”

“When they seized me, they did not care for my screaming. It is nothing.” She fought an urge to rub her face against his hand. “Truly, my lord, I am well.”

“I will attend to whoever struck you, I promise,” Greystone said, sounding almost eerily calm as he reached under his shirt and unstrapped something, removing a thin dark case. “What did these men say to you?”

“Nothing at all. One spoke in French to the others, and told them to lock me up. They all seemed genuinely menacing. Do you think they meant to rob Mr. Pickering? Why would they be French?” She watched as he took what appeared to be a long metal instrument from the case. “What is that?”

“A tool.” He walked over to the door, listened again, and then inserted the lock pick into the key hole. “You are quite certain that Arthur was dead?”

“He had a knife in his back, and did not breathe or move. I could not find a pulse on his neck.” Jennet joined him at the door and watched as he carefully turned the pick. “How can you do this?”

“It is part of my work.” He met her gaze. “To serve the crown in my position, such skills are required.”

Jennet frowned. “You are His Majesty’s locksmith?”

“That is one way of putting it.” Greystone turned his attention back to the lock. “How many men did you see in total?”

“Only the three who grabbed me. You are a gentleman, and heir to a great estate, but you have employment? Why would you need to work?” When he didn’t reply she folded her arms. “Did your father gamble away all of his fortune? Or did you? Oh, Liam. Tell me you did not.”

“It was never about money.” He cursed under his breath before he added, “I pose as a French merchant supplying the emperor’s soldiers.”

“You would have to do that…in France.” When he nodded, bile rose in her throat, making it hard to speak. “Exactly which crown do you serve in your capacity, my lord?”

“Ours, my dear. I am their spy.” Something clicked, and he drew the pick out from the lock. He tried the door, frowned and then reinserted the instrument. “The locks in this house are newer than those I have encountered in my travels, and I am