When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,133
in a single moment, the possibility dangled before her.
It was too much to turn away from.
“Very well,” she said.
“Very well?” King repeated. “What does that mean?”
“I agree to your proposal. Though I will verify the merit of what you have asked me to do.”
“The merit?” His voice was a growl. “That’s not—”
“That’s my offer to you,” she interrupted him. “The same offer I make to every potential client until facts can be corroborated and proven to my satisfaction.”
King gazed at her, his chilling eyes once again remote and unreadable. “Fine.”
Adeline touched the locket at her neck. “I will return to London immediately after I deliver—”
“You can’t leave.”
Her hand fell away, her fingers curling in her skirts. “You may control the darker side of London and everything in it, but you do not control me. I have property to return to its rightful owner. A contract to finish, a promise to keep.”
“I will see it done.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I will have the sapphire returned. Provide me with your client’s direction, and it will be delivered immediately.”
Adeline frowned.
“You doubt my word?”
“No,” she said truthfully. “It is your motivations behind such an offer that are opaque.”
“As I said, if I am left alone with him, I will simply kill him and regret that kindness later.”
“And keeping me in London will prevent you from doing that?”
“No. You misunderstand me.” King paused. “You will stay here. At Helmsdale.”
Chapter 6
Adeline did not stay at Helmsdale.
The demand had surprised her, but she hadn’t bothered arguing—really, where she slept was an insignificant detail when cast against the possibility of recovering Falaise d’Argent. She would collect her belongings from the Four Cocks when she was able and eventually return to Helmsdale, but right now, Adeline had work to do.
The end of King’s auction had prompted a mass exodus of attendees, similar to the emptying of a theater, its patrons all drunk on spirits, gossip, excesses, and the entertainment provided by all three. Adeline had slipped from the house, her hired carriage still waiting exactly as she’d instructed, and it hadn’t been difficult for her to follow the Duke of Rotham’s flamboyant equipage as he and Baron Marstowe had departed Helmsdale.
Adeline had spent the entirety of the auction alternatively observing Marstowe and observing King observing Marstowe. The baron had bid on nothing and had appeared to be more interested in imbibing from the trays of expensive liquors that footmen had circulated through the ballroom than in examining the treasures surrounding him. Aside from Rotham, he’d generally avoided those around him and made little effort at conversation. The baron had sought no further interaction with King, even though the owner of Helmsdale had been easily visible as he’d watched the spectacle alone from the ballroom balcony, his expression cold and grim.
Adeline had no idea where Rotham and Marstowe were headed now but had simply instructed her driver to follow the pair. As they went deeper into London, the empty spaces and orderly squares soon gave way to a jumble of twisting streets, hemmed in on all sides by looming buildings. The darkened cobblestones were punctuated only by light spilling from the occasional street corner or from the windows of businesses that did the bulk of their trade in the hours long after the sun had set.
Rotham’s carriage eventually rolled to a stop in front of a nondescript brick building, light seeping from the edges of its covered windows, carriages and their bundled drivers lining the street beyond. The two men disembarked and disappeared into the building, the two large lanterns blazing by the door making it easy to observe.
Adeline’s own equipage stopped a short distance away, and she hopped out, shivering against the winter air that stabbed at her with icy fingers. The snowfall that had started earlier had become heavier, and a thick layer of pristine white covered everything, though the streets would be a mucky morass come morning.
“What is this place?” she asked her driver.
“Lavoie’s,” he replied. “A gaming hell, but the exclusive kind that caters to rich toffs with fat purses wishing to amuse themselves. Their ladies too.”
“Mmm.”
“You planning on gambling?” her driver asked.
“Something like that.” She pulled her cloak more tightly about her body.
“You need me to wait?”
“Thank you but no. You’ve spent enough time in the cold—”
“I reckon you’ve ’bout paid me enough this evening to wait for you till Christmas. ’Tis no trouble.”
“There’s no need.” If she didn’t return to Helmsdale, she’d simply lodge back at the Four Cocks after she was done here tonight.