done something differently during the confrontation. He’d hesitated, considering his options rather than acting. Somehow, he didn’t think the man at his side would’ve had the same outcome.
“I suggest from this point forward, you avoid being on any darkened streets alone.” Aberland held Thomas’s gaze. “I don’t wish to deliver news of your demise to Annabelle or your brothers.”
“Believe me. I feel the same.” Thomas cleared his throat, uncertain how to express his thanks for the earl’s presence.
“No doubt we’re being observed at this very moment.” Yet Aberland didn’t glance around.
“What do you suggest we do about that?”
Aberland smiled. “This will send the message that we don’t intend to end our quest.”
“Quest?” Thomas realized he liked the word. It had a noble ring to it.
“Indeed. And allow me to tell you that you do have a knack for such deeds.”
Thomas scoffed. “I fear I must disagree. A sick feeling of dread and general unease has accompanied me each time something has occurred. Obviously, I’m ill-suited for the role of hero.”
“Nonsense. If anyone tells you they weren’t fearful in a similar situation, they’re lying. You are honest enough to share your true feelings yet here you are, taking action despite the risk and your concern.” Aberland offered another smile. “And believe you me, there is risk. Anything involving the East India Company is not to be dismissed lightly.”
“No fear of me doing that.” Thomas adjusted his top hat. The injury to his head made wearing it highly uncomfortable. “Do you think Pickford is connected to the murders?”
Aberland considered the idea. “Perhaps. From what the dock manager said, he’d had the opportunity to see Sir Reginald on a previous visit but took no action. Could it have been Annabelle’s presence that forced him to act?”
Thomas had wondered the same. If that were true, did it have to do with her book or the fact that she’d been with him when they’d twice spoken with McConnelly? Had she been recognized despite the widow’s disguise? “I hope we will soon find out.”
The atmosphere around the prison was enough to cause Thomas to frown. “I’m pleased we can walk away from this place once our meeting is over.”
“It’s certainly dismal. I’ve called on others here and found it as depressing as it is today.”
Thomas was relieved to know he wasn’t the only one who thought so.
The process of stating their name and business as well as who they wished to see didn’t take overlong. Aberland’s presence was to thank for that.
Soon they were led down several dark corridors and past prisoners in cells. Some stared at them sullenly while others shouted foul language that would make a sailor blush.
“Charming lot, ain’t they?” the guard who accompanied them asked with a laugh.
“I’m pleased you find some humor in it,” Thomas said, his nose twitching at the awful smell.
The beefy man chuckled. “If I didn’t, they’d drive me insane. Here ye be.” He pointed toward a dimly lit cell.
“Thank you,” Aberland said with a nod.
“I’ll be just down the hallway if you need anything.”
Thomas studied the area behind the bars but no one was visible. Was anyone even in there? “Pickford?”
The scrape of a shoe on stone came from the dark depths of the cell and the same man Thomas had seen at the dock drew closer and gripped the iron bars.
“Mr. Raybourne.” Pickford squinted as if he found the small amount of daylight coming into the corridor from high narrow windows too bright. “Who’s this?” he asked as he glanced at Aberland.
“A friend.” Thomas had no intention of making introductions.
“I know you.” Pickford studied Aberland. “You’ve been at the dock several times.”
“Yes, I have.” Aberland took a step nearer. “We appreciate you answering a few questions for us.”
Pickford smiled but it wasn’t especially friendly. “I will only answer the ones of my choosing.”
“Why have you suddenly decided to be helpful?” Until they knew the answer to that, Thomas wasn’t certain they could believe anything he had to say.
“I’ve got my reasons.”
“Why don’t you start with the reason you attacked Sir Reginald at the dock?”
“I was just following orders to do what I could to cause problems.”
Unease crept over Thomas, a feeling he’d experienced far too often of late. “Orders from whom?”
Pickford leaned close, his dark eyes narrowing. “I didn’t kill anybody, despite what the police seem to think. All this talk of murder has nothing to do with me.”
“Why should we believe you?” Thomas asked.
“I was already in here when the second murder was committed.”
Thomas shared