Chapter 2
Sebastian Cooper, Duke of Wrengate, struggled against the instinct that urged him to turn on his heel and leave the study in which he stood. Instead, he squashed his pride and faced the man whose aid he required. Two days ago, he’d have rather slit his own throat than ask a favor of Adrian Croft.
Now, he might be prepared to fall at his feet in entreaty.
What the hell had he been thinking, bringing Edwina to Town where danger lurked around every corner? She should have remained at Faintree Hall with Claire. If he’d only—
“Wrengate?”
Sebastian flinched, his gaze snapping to Croft’s. A grave expression crinkled the man’s brow and darkened his eyes. “Sorry. I, um…”
“How about we start with a drink?”
Croft was already handing him a glass he must have prepared while Sebastian’s mind had wandered off. He accepted the offering and took a sip, allowed the brandy to soothe his battered soul. “Thank you.”
“Have a seat.” Croft extended his arm to one of the nearby chairs. Without waiting to see if Sebastian intended to do as suggested or not, he went to claim his own seat on the opposite side of his desk.
Sebastian drew a ragged breath and lowered himself to the proffered spot.
“You know,” Croft mused, his gaze as sharp as a viper’s fangs, “of all the people in the country, I would have sworn I’d be the last man whose help you’d seek.”
The comment made anger flare. “Believe me when I tell you that I’d not have done so if I trusted Bow Street to do their job. By contrast, you have proven successful, and since my own efforts to find Edwina these past two days have failed, I am turning to you out of desperation.”
Silence encompassed the room. Sebastian’s heart struggled to beat. He prepared to beg.
But then…
“Fair enough.” Croft tilted his head and seemed to consider. “I’ll need every detail you can provide regarding your sister’s movements on the day she went missing. Comments she made to you or anyone else with whom she interacted may be useful as well.”
“She—”
“But first,” Croft said, cutting Sebastian off, “there’s the matter of our agreement.”
“My sister is missing,” Sebastian gritted, a fresh surge of rage pushing toward the top of his skull. “We can discuss our agreement later.”
“No.” Croft leaned back in his chair, affecting a comfortable position as though he had not a care in the world. “You will make good on your promise first.”
“You bastard.” Sebastian tightened his grip on his glass and envisioned hurling it at Croft’s head. “Depending on what has occurred, every second we linger could mean the difference between life and death for her. As you should bloody well know, from experience.”
Something lethal flashed in Croft’s gaze, informing Sebastian that he did not appreciate the reference he’d made to Miss Evelyne Croft.
A heavy pause accentuated the silence, but then, rather than tell Sebastian to get the hell out of his house, Croft quietly said, “If I were you, I’d stop wasting time and tell me about your dealings with Wycliff.”
The Saint Giles crime-lord Sebastian killed last year.
He ground his teeth together while glaring at Croft.
He shouldn’t have come here. He’d known demands would be made, and that he’d have to pay for the help he received, one way or the other.
But handling the matter alone wasn’t an option either.
Not when Croft was known for getting results that eluded everyone else.
“Fine.” Sebastian knocked back the rest of his drink and slammed his empty glass onto Croft’s desk. “Wycliff was meant to acquire some rare ingredients I could pass on to Doctor Ashburry.”
“Another man who’s now dead.”
“By your hand,” Sebastian reminded him, “not mine.”
Croft grunted his agreement, then asked, “What were these rare ingredients for?”
“A tincture intended to cure my youngest sister, Lady Claire.” Sebastian swallowed the bitter taste in his mouth.
Being made vulnerable like this, in front of Croft, no less, made him feel ill.
“Her muscular health has been in decline for several years now. She cannot walk unassisted, and since her condition continues to worsen, the day will surely come when she won’t be able to get out of bed.
Ashburry promised a miracle, and Wycliff swore he’d deliver what I required. ”
“But both men failed you.” Croft’s voice, while firm, contained an underlying hint of sympathy.
“The cure Ashburry said he could make doesn’t exist. He merely used me for his own twisted agenda.
As for Wycliff…” A bitter laugh forced its way past Sebastian’s lips.
“After he made the first delivery, he started raising the price. A thousand pounds for a few ounces of dried Chinese monkshood. When I fought him on it, he raised the price further and threatened to tell The Morning Post that I was involved in the theft of a shipment belonging to Luxury Imports.”
“A threat to your reputation, though hardly enough for you to resort to murder.”
Croft wasn’t wrong. Sebastian considered the wisdom in sharing too much, then said, “You know I brought two men with me the last time I went to meet with Wycliff, because your wife was there too. As his protector, I assume?”
“She had a debt to pay at the time.”
“So you won’t deny the fact that she killed those men?”
Something dangerous flashed in Croft’s gaze. He leaned forward. Slowly. When he spoke next, his voice was so lethal Sebastian could practically feel it flaying the skin from his bones. “She might have died that night thanks to you. What happened to your men is no one’s fault but your own.”
“You’re wrong. Wycliff bears as much responsibility, if not more. He brought her to that meeting as his personal shield, did he not?” When Croft remained silent, Sebastian told him quietly, “They were there to punish Wycliff in case he continued refusing to give me what I had already paid for.”
“According to what I know, the boy Wycliff sent to collect your delivery was caught trying to find it.”
“Another excuse in a long list of excuses, all so Wycliff could gain the leverage he wanted. He saw my desperation and tried to force my hand with it.”
“How much was he after?”
“Five thousand pounds.”
Croft produced a low whistle. “So you decided to put an end to his scheme.”
“He was responsible for the deaths of my men and was blackmailing me. What would you have done?”
“Something similar, I believe. In fact, the only reason Wycliff isn’t dead by my hand is because you got to him first.”
Sebastian blinked. “You mean to say…”
“Wycliff’s days were numbered.”
A cold discomfort settled deep in Sebastian’s gut.
He could have avoided killing Wycliff and still ended up with the same result.
But he’d gone to confront him, to find the ingredients he was convinced Wycliff had in his possession.
And then… He could barely recall how it had happened, just that Wycliff had mocked him and he’d seen red.
Most likely, the crime-lord hadn’t believed Sebastian would pull the trigger himself.
He'd been wrong.
Wycliff had pushed Sebastian past the point of reason. He’d been blinded by rage, distraught by the prospect of failure — of being responsible for Claire’s continued suffering.
A sensation not entirely dissimilar to what he experienced now.
He stared at Croft. “I’ve done as you asked, now help me find Edwina.”
A pause followed, during which Sebastian feared Croft would do as Wycliff had done and demand even more. But then… “I can offer no assurances besides the fact that I’ll try.”
Relief eased the tension from Sebastian’s shoulders. “Understood.”
“Then you will not blame me in the event that I fail?” Croft waited for Sebastian’s nod of agreement before he folded his arms on his desk and asked, “When and where did you last see your sister?”
* * *
Adrian listened attentively to Wrengate’s every word.
Despite his dislike of the man, he sympathized with him.
Deeply. Although the duke had touched a nerve when he’d brought up Evie, he did have a point.
Adrian understood Wrengate’s agony, the countless “if only’s” flooding his mind, and the crushing guilt tied to feelings of failure.
Would such feelings ever cease? Probably not. Adrian was certain he would blame himself for Evie’s death until his final breath. But there was a chance Wrengate would not have to suffer so deeply, that his sister could be not only found but returned to him alive.
Loath as he was to have any further interactions with Wrengate, Adrian had no choice but to lend his assistance. His moral code demanded it. Because despite their history with each other, a woman’s life was likely in danger.
In other words, if he turned his back on Lady Edwina and something terrible happened to her, he would bear part of the responsibility. An awful position to place a person in, though he would have done the same had he been in Wrengate’s place.
“I’ll start hunting for information immediately,” he promised when Wrengate was ready to take his leave. “You’ll know as soon as I learn anything.”
“I’m counting on you, Croft.” Wrengate’s voice was harder than granite. “Find my sister and bring her home.”
Adrian saw him to the foyer where his butler, Elks, was waiting with Wrengate’s hat and gloves at the ready. The duke donned the items with quick efficiency, sent Adrian a parting nod, and exited onto the dark pavement.
Leaving Elks to lock the door, Adrian strode to the parlor where Samantha waited.
Heavy with child, she preferred spending evenings at home these days, either reading or in quiet conversation with Adrian.
They’d been discussing Adrian’s close friend Edward, the Earl of Marsdale, when Elks announced Wrengate’s arrival.