When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,154

in the event that he puts another’s life or well-being in danger.”

“Intervene?” Smithers asked. “To what degree?”

“To whatever degree is necessary to make him stop.”

“Understood.”

King knew that Smithers did.

“Who is it that you’d like us to follow?” Smithers inquired. “And where is the residence?”

“Baron Marstowe,” King replied. “His address is in Hanover Square.”

Smithers frowned, his sharp features becoming even more pinched. “I don’t understand, sir,” he said.

“What is it you don’t understand?” King demanded. Smithers was usually one of his more incisive—

“Marstowe was here this afternoon. Perhaps an hour ago?”

King heard Adeline’s sharp intake of breath.

“What did he want?” she demanded.

Smithers glanced uneasily between King and Adeline, and the hairs on the back of King’s neck stood up.

“What did he want, Smithers?” King repeated.

“He said he was working with you to recover some money. He confirmed that you had met at the St James’s churchyard, but that you were in need of further assistance and had asked the baron to fetch Elliot.” His hands were clenching and unclenching. “Was that not the case?”

“No,” King managed to say. “It is not the case at all.” He dragged in a laboring breath, feeling as though he were underwater. “Did Elliot go with him?”

“Yes.”

King couldn’t even answer. Jesus Christ. This was his fault. He didn’t know if Marstowe had come for the boy because he believed King had something to do with his missing fortune or if the baron knew who he truly was, or if he simply wanted Elliot for his own twisted purposes. Regardless, King had overplayed his hand. He should have kept his distance and let Adeline handle the baron.

Or he should have simply killed Marstowe at the very beginning.

“Sir, Elliot may be small, but he can take care of himself.”

Smithers wasn’t wrong. Elliot was indeed small, and he could take care of himself provided he saw the danger coming. But he wouldn’t be looking for it. Not from Marstowe.

Because King had admitted Marstowe to his auction, and by doing so sent a message to Elliot that the man need not be suspected of anything but being another greedy, predictable peer. The boy’s guard would be down, especially if he believed that he was on his way to assist King.

Smithers was twisting his key in his hands. “I can send—”

“No.” King would fix this. He would finish this. Once and for all. “Did the baron speak to you?”

“No, sir. He was in the Duke of Rotham’s carriage and never came into the house. Spoke directly to Raul and Levrett at the gate.”

“Did he say anything else?”

“Only that you had reached an agreement of twenty-five percent and that Elliot would help serve to recover his portion of that.”

King put a hand out on the desk to steady himself. As on the first time he had come face-to-face with John Westerleigh in his study, dark spots danced before his eyes. He would take Marstowe apart piece by piece.

“Where are they?” It was Adeline who was asking urgently. “Do you know where they would have gone? Where he would have taken him?”

King’s vision abruptly cleared, an icy calm crystallizing in his veins. “Somewhere where there are no servants or staff to witness his depravity. Where he will have all the time in the world to indulge himself without disturbance.” He spun, heading for his stable. “He’ll have taken him home.”

Chapter 12

The ride from Helmsdale to Hanover Square was a desperate one, the thunder of the horses’ hooves and the screaming wind in Adeline’s ears blocking out the small voice in her head that was mocking her for her failures. Failure to be at the baron’s house at dawn, prepared to follow the man wherever he went. Failure to remain at the baron’s house after he did not show at the churchyard. She had failed in the single job she had been tasked with, and now a boy who had done nothing save possess an angelic face and a sense of loyalty was very much in danger.

Evening had settled firmly upon the city, only moonlight and the pools of lantern light on the street corners offering respite from the darkness. Traffic became lighter as they wended their way toward the elegant squares of London, the wealthy not yet emerged for the evening’s entertainments and their servants having long ago completed their outdoor tasks in the daylight.

Adeline’s cheeks were frozen, tears from the wind were crystallized in her lashes, and her fingers were aching with cold. King hadn’t said a word since he had bolted