Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Atomb. Stonewynn House had become a tomb. It was already late morning, and Daniel had not had breakfast yet. Instead, he had unwisely imbibed several glasses of brandy.
His mission to find the arsonist who had killed his relatives had sparked a fire within him. A focus. Usually, he would only sip a drink or two for the rest of the day. He had never aimed for inebriation.
Today was different. Everything felt funereal. His bedchambers stood in suffocating twilight, and everything was in shambles in one place: a tray with ignored food, ledgers and books, and paper strewn on the floor.
Daniel sat at his desk. His shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbows. His coat and cravat from the day before lay on the rug. His eyes were bloodshot, and his beard had grown thicker.
Everything felt like the nine circles of hell combined.
“Damn property,” he cursed as he read a report about his tenants in Sussex.
Normally, everything was regularly updated. And it was, as far as he could tell. Still, everything swirled like dancing black ink threatening to take over his world.
“I want to get married and have children of my own.”
Try as he might, he could not get Lucy’s words out of his mind. He had calmly and coldly accepted her wishes and even offered to assist her in finding a husband. He had done what he thought was noble.
He would forever be haunted by Moses Gordon and his paymaster. Danger would follow him. In rejecting Lucy, he was leading her to a path of safety.
He had thought they had more time. That they would have more agonizingly brief, clandestine meetings. That even though they were torture, there was still hope.
When he had offered to assist in her search for a husband, the light had died in her eyes. There had been finality in her words and the way she had turned away from him.
No more trysts for mere conversation. No more kisses. Daniel had lost Lucy to his own obsession.
A knock at the door broke the deafening silence in his chambers and rattled the noise in his head.
“Leave!” he commanded.
The bellow he attempted was nothing more than a rasp.
The door opened, and he was not surprised to see Theo. However, he did not expect him to barge in with two hurricanes, Victoria and Daphne.
All three watched him with deep frowns on their faces, watched the wreckage of his soul.
“It’s horrifying,” Theo commented, trying not to step on the clothes scattered on the floor, “how a young and wealthy duke could look worse than several men in debtor’s prison.”
“Should I express my gratitude, Theo?” Daniel growled. “Can’t you all see that I am occupied? I am reading a few reports. Is there anything wrong with that?”
Victoria approached him. Daniel could see the exasperation on her face. There was a spark of something else, too, something like pity, and he did not appreciate it. She went to the sideboard and raised the half-empty decanter.
“So, you’re telling me, Brother, that you have sequestered yourself in this room for forty-eight hours to read reports. The staff is whispering about your current behavior. They are wondering if it’s grief, or madness, or both.”
“I am not grieving,” Daniel insisted, and his heart clenched in protest.
“Then how do you explain this?” Daphne demanded, sweeping a hand at the whole room. “You have had difficult days before, Daniel, but never like this. Let us help you. I am deeply concerned.”
“You don’t have to. Sometimes, people merely need a respite from the world,” he said, keeping his voice calm and even. He knew that shouting would merely keep the trio in his room.
He would not be able to handle hours of Daphne’s coddling, Victoria’s scolding, and Theo’s jests. They all needed to leave.
“Respite? That entails sleeping well and eating healthy,” Daphne reminded him. “This is not a respite. This is—”
“Insanity. That is what this is. You are too obsessed with the fire in Suffolk. I understand our cousin and uncle died. It is a devastating loss, but we cannot lose you because of it either,” Victoria cut in.
“It is also dangerous. You should inform the authorities, instead of investigating it on your own,” Theo muttered, looking a little guilty.
Daniel was right. They would prattle all day and night. But at the moment, they still had not guessed the reason for the darkness in his soul. They didn’t need to know.
“Enough,” he said. His voice was calm and low, but all three flinched. There was enough venom in that one word. “It is my choice to live this way. Please leave.”
They did not say anything more, but he could see the hurt on Victoria’s face and the disappointment on Daphne’s. Meanwhile, Theo looked hurt, guilty, and disapproving all at the same time.
“You don’t have to help me if you feel it’s dangerous, Theo,” he added coldly. “I will do it myself, if need be.”
They left, then. He could have sworn he heard Daphne sobbing. He did see Theo shaking his head, possibly in disgust.
In all stubborn defiance, Daniel remained in his room. Within two hours, another knock sounded at his door.
His body went rigid, ready to argue with his friend and sisters. Then, he calmed himself down, wondering if it was a note from Lucy.
When he opened the door, a footman gave him an envelope. His heart thudded in his chest. He wondered if Lucy had sent him a note. He would take anything from her, even harsh words. Anything at all. Except, it was a sealed note from Silas.
He broke the seal, his fingers trembling with anticipation. It was yet another report to read, but this time it was not about his properties. It was about Moses Gordon’s latest movements.
Warehouse 14. Gordon’s Warehouse. Pier 19.
The report contained details about the approximate number of men, change in guard shifts, hidden exits and entrances, and witness accounts of Gordon and his men’s movements. It seemed that the arsonist had other business, such as smuggling, which made sense given the chosen location.
The information was like a cold splash of water. Daniel might have lost Lucy, but he could at least catch the arsonist once and for all. He might not be able to marry her and give her children, but he could finally make someone pay and end the quest that had cost him a chance at happiness.
He didn’t call for a carriage or even send for Silas. Instead, he wore plain, dark clothes and grabbed a pair of loaded pistols. He even snuck out of the house through the servants’ entrance, a shadow slipping into the night.
When he looked back at the outline of the townhouse, he could not help but remember that moment he looked back to see another house in what felt like another lifetime. At that time, though, he watched it burn.
“For Kenneth,” he whispered, the words a vow that tore his heart apart. “For Uncle Algernon. For the life I could not live because of a hateful murderer.”
Daniel was fully aware that he had uttered an oath. He was simply not going to the warehouse to arrest or fight with anyone. He needed to finish a conversation with a man whose secrets Kenneth discovered.
He promised that the man responsible for his broken life would be in chains soon.
The pier was salt, rot, and murder. Daniel didn’t realize until then that the combination had a distinctive smell. The fog was thick, but he had expected that already. Gordon and his men preferred the sense of mystery and secrecy.
He saw silhouettes. They could be Gordon’s men or other cutpurses. He moved through the fog and the gloom.
The warehouse was a picture of decay, with sagging timber. It was already leaning toward the Thames, as if it wanted to end everything. Two men flanked the front door, their eyes bloodshot with drink.
Daniel’s eyes narrowed. He knew what he needed to do.
Like a wraith emerging from the fog, his fist connected with the first man’s jaw.
The second man lunged at him with a rusted knife.
However, Daniel quickly ducked and caught his wrist. He twisted it as hard as he could until he heard a pop. He even kneed the man in the belly.
With the guards down, he was able to kick the heavy door open without anyone stopping him.
Inside, the unpleasant smell of damp wood and gunpowder hung heavy.
“Gordon!” he shouted.
He was not only looking for Moses Gordon, but also issuing a challenge.
To his surprise, a man came out of the shadows. He was lean and muscular, and his face looked as hard as granite.
“You were looking for me?” he asked. “It is about time. I had wondered when you would stop hiring criminals to look for me.”
Three more of his thugs emerged from behind the crates. They carried blades and clubs.
A less desperate man would have fled. A less proud man would have asked for help.
But Daniel was neither.
The mission could have killed him. He fought Gordon’s lackeys with feral desperation. One club managed to hit his side. His vision blurred, but he would not give up. He used his rage to counter a strike, reaching for a thug’s throat. He kneed the man in the crotch while he was at it.
The thug fell unconscious on the floor.
Daniel took the opportunity to grab the man’s club. Then, he lunged at the rest of the thugs. The fight almost drained all of his energy, but at least he had a weapon to swing at his enemies.
Soon, the thugs were all either unconscious or groaning on the floor. He pulled out a pistol and aimed it at Gordon’s heart.
“The fire in the house in Suffolk,” he said. “You killed my cousin Kenneth and my uncle. What did they do to you?”
Gordon smirked.
“So it seems that you fancy yourself the hero of this story, Your Grace,” he drawled, leaning against a crate. He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. “You like seeing yourself as the hero coming here to slay the monster.”
“Gordon, give me a good reason not to pull the trigger,” Daniel grunted.
“I have a reason,” Gordon said calmly, but then he lifted his hands when Daniel stepped closer. The pistol was now inches from the middle of his forehead. “I am hired to do dirty work. I know you want to know who hired me.”
“Who?” Daniel demanded, his finger hovering over the trigger. “Who paid you, Gordon? Who hated my cousin and uncle so much?”
“You really want to know?” Gordon asked, his face contorted. “I don’t trust you and your ilk, know this. A lord paid me to kill your relatives. I have been working with and for the Earl of Marsleigh for years. Joshua Coulson still owes me some.”
“You’re lying,” Daniel said slowly. “The Earl is a sanctimonious prig. He cannot be a murderer.”
“Cannot be?” Gordon scoffed. “Perhaps not the man who starts the fire, but the man who wants it done. I am telling you not because I am fond of you, Stonewynn, but because the Earl had swindled me out of a shipment of brandy and French lace. His problem was your cousin Kenneth.”
“Kenneth?” Daniel echoed, his heart in his throat.
“Your cousin was sniffing around,” Gordon explained.
“He sensed Marsleigh’s involvement in the London underground.
He was getting too close to the truth. I can now see how similar you are in that regard.
The idea of getting caught terrified Joshua.
He believed that your cousin would ruin everything and that he would lose his title and reputation. ”
Daniel’s hand shook. The man was scum, but he was telling the truth. His pistol wavered, and for a brief moment, he had the satisfaction of seeing a flicker of fear in Gordon’s eyes.
“I want him to pay,” Gordon rasped.
Daniel lowered the pistol, but it didn’t mean that he was no longer on high alert. His mind was racing through various possibilities. Dread coiled in his gut.
Lucy was in danger. She just did not know it yet.