When a Rogue Meets His Match - Elizabeth Hoyt Page 0,19
the moneys to be placed in a separate account. When you’ve finished the job I’ll put the remainder of the dowry in the account and hand it over. Until you do, all the money is still in my hands.”
He slid the document across the table he’d eaten his breakfast on.
Gideon picked it up, not bothering to read it. This wasn’t unexpected, but it still made him angry.
He looked from the document to the old man, his eyes narrowed. “What shall I live on until then? How shall I keep your niece?”
The duke reseated himself and folded his hands on his belly. “I know you’ve a nice bit of coin saved. You’ll do quite well.”
All true, though it didn’t make Gideon any happier. The duke had implied that he’d turn over a portion of the dowry once they’d wed.
Gideon had promised Messalina her money in a month. He had to fulfill the duke’s wishes before then.
Gideon took a calming breath. “What can I do for you, Your Grace?”
The grin that spread across the duke’s face was unsettling. “I want you to kill my heir, Julian Greycourt.”
Chapter Four
The tinker followed the light until he came to a small clearing carpeted in wild thyme. Sitting there was a cottage. The walls were made of honeysuckle and sweetbriar and the roof was a mass of violets and oxlips. Lounging before the cottage was a great red fox, smoking a clay pipe.…
—From Bet and the Fox
Late that afternoon Messalina stood in Whispers’ cavernous library and tried not to look as appalled as she felt.
Along the walls lovely oak shelves reached nearly to the ceiling—entirely empty. “How can a library be a library without books?”
Reggie, who was their guide to the house, shrugged. “The guv ’asn’t much use for books.”
“Of course he hasn’t,” Messalina said bitterly. “He’s a Philistine as well as a bully to small children.”
Reggie was an enormous man with a heavy brow and thick lips. Despite his rather alarming appearance he was remarkably cheerful. Now, though, he wrinkled his great forehead. “Ma’am?”
Bartlett glanced up from the small notebook where she was keeping a list of the things that needed attending to. “Mr. Hawthorne disciplined a boy this morning. He was named Sam, I think?”
Reggie’s brow cleared. “Oh, aye. Sam is one of Pea’s lot. What was the guv ’auling the lad over the coals for?”
“Thieving,” Bartlett said.
Reggie winced. “The guv is right strict-like when it comes to anyone stealing ’is things.”
“Of course he is.”
She knew what Hawthorne was. Why was she so appalled by his cruelty? Had she really imagined that the man was anything other than a savage? She remembered his fingers brushing her face as he’d pushed her hair behind her ear. How could the same man have terrified a little boy only minutes before?
She kept seeing Sam straightening his shoulders. Trying to look tough when he was only a small boy. If she could but help him somehow.
No. She must stick with her plan of fleeing this house.
Which reminded her. She glanced at Bartlett. “Let me see your notes.”
The lady’s maid handed over the little book.
Messalina ran her eye over the precise handwriting without really seeing it. She nodded as if in approval.
“This is very good. Let me just note a few books I’d like to bring here.” She took the pencil and wrote at the bottom of the list, “Were you able to send the letter?”
Smiling, she handed the notebook back to Bartlett.
The maid glanced at the notebook and nodded. “A very good suggestion, ma’am. Why, just this afternoon I sent a boy to inquire about one of your favorite books, The Gloom of Harlowe Hall.”
“Did you?” Messalina raised her eyebrow at the rather imaginative title.
“Yes, indeed,” Bartlett said sturdily.
Messalina smiled. “I look forward to his return, then. But I’d like to finish touring the house first.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Reggie replied. “Erm. This way.”
He led them out into the passage at the top of the staircase and down a hall to another room. Reggie opened the door and said proudly, “The music room.”
Messalina entered and glanced around. The small room was pleasingly proportioned and painted a soothing lavender, but it held only a single chair, sitting in the center of the room.
She turned to Reggie and asked carefully, “Why is this called the music room?”
Reggie seemed stumped for a moment before he said, “’Cause this is where music is played.”
“And yet…” Messalina waved to the instrument-less room and then sighed. “Tell me, how long has Mr. Hawthorne been living at