Chapter 22
“You just left her there?” Colin asked as he and Michael walked behind Ezra Hardy as he led them down some of the most dangerous streets in all of London.
Michael sighed, raking his hand through his hair in frustration. “I did not know what else to do. I needed time to think without her being in front of me. After her confession and my denial of forgiveness, she would not look at me. It was as if a ghost had taken up residence within my home.”
Colin shook his head in disapproval. “I do not understand you at times, Cousin. You finally have the answers that you have sought for over five years, yet it is still not enough for you.”
“She should have told me sooner,” Michael argued stubbornly.
“Yes, she should have, but that does not mean that she meant it in malice. Everyone has moments of cowardice in their lives. What if you had been in her situation? How would you have behaved?” Colin raised his hand to cut Michael off from answering right away.
“Before you answer, I want you to think about the words that you choose. You may not have been in her exact circumstances, but I have a question for you to consider. Why did you not write to her and ask her why?” Colin’s raised brows told Michael that he already knew the answer.
“How is what she did any greater a sin?”
Michael considered his cousin’s words. He knew deep down in his heart that Colin was right, but he had been hurting for so long that he honestly did not know how to let it go.
“I regret saying anything at all,” he admitted.
“I should have kept my feelings to myself. I believe that I have destroyed any chance of friendship that might have remained between us.”
Colin gave him a side-eyed look of exasperation. “The problem is not that you spoke of the matter, it is that you did not have the courage to seek a resolution.”
Colin’s words stung as if he had actually slapped Michael across the face.
“It is too late.” Michael shook his head to clear it of the shadowed fog that seemed to permeate every aspect of his being since the day that he had lost the woman that he loved.
He no longer knew how to define himself outside of that fog. “Some wounds are too deep to heal.”
“I never believed you to be a foolish man, Michael, but I am beginning to wonder.”
Michael shot Colin a surprised look, hurt and anger warring with each other in his mind and heart. Before he could summon an appropriate response, they found themselves standing in front of the Green Dragon Tavern.
“We have arrived,” Mr. Hardy informed them, his tone one of warning.
“The men who frequent this particular establishment are some of the most dangerous men that you will ever meet. Watch yourselves, my lords. I have not yet seen the mysterious Mr. G, but I heard rumors amongst the men that he would be returning on this day.”
“We thank you for your assistance, Mr. Hardy. You are a good man,” Colin replied gratefully.
“There is nothing that I would not do to protect the ladies under my care,” Mr. Hardy solemnly informed them. The look in his eyes spoke of his limitless devotion. It was clear to both Colin and Michael that the butler would have killed for the Frampton women if necessary.
Colin nodded in acceptance of the butler’s vow, then followed him inside. Seeing both men’s devotion to the women of the Frampton household caused a pang within Michael’s chest.
Here I am bemoaning my lot in love, while the woman that my cousin loves is in grave danger.
Shaking his head in frustration with himself, he walked through the tavern doors.
Stopping inside the threshold for his eyes to adjust to the dim light within the main room, Michael took in the assembled assortment of rough-looking patrons.
“How will we know what he looks like?” Colin whispered quietly for Michael and Mr. Hardy’s ears only.
“We will know,” Mr. Hardy reassured him. “Men of power have a certain look to them. It does not matter what their station in life is.”
Michael nodded, his admiration for the butler growing with each encounter.
“We should find a seat,” he murmured.
Men were turning from their places to look at them. The last thing that they wanted to do was to draw more attention to themselves.
Mr. Hardy split off from them and took a seat in a darkened corner of the room where he could see everything and everyone that was happening.
Colin and Michael made their way across the room to where the tavern keeper’s wife was standing behind the bar.
“What can I get you, gents?” she asked, her tone even and neutral as her eyes spoke a warning.
“Ale,” Colin ordered while Michael covertly watched their backs.
The tavern keeper’s wife nodded and went to fetch them their order. When she returned, they paid her for their drinks, then took them over to a nearby table.
“He is here,” Michael spoke softly for Colin’s ears only. “The look in her eyes made that plain.”
“Indeed,” Colin agreed.
The two cousins nursed their ale as they discreetly searched the room once more with their eyes.
“I do not see anyone that fits his description.”
“Nor do I. Perhaps he is in another room,” Michael offered as an explanation.
Their conversation was interrupted when the tavern keeper’s wife walked over to them with a plate of pasties. “Is there anything else that I can get ye?” she asked, her tone one of insinuation.
Michael, taking the hint, nodded. “Indeed, there is. We would like to speak with the man in charge of this establishment, who goes by the name of Mr. G.”
The tavern keeper’s wife nodded. “I will inform him that he has guests.” The woman shuffled away behind the bar and through a door to the back room.
“Why do I feel as if we have gone from the cooking pot into the fire?” Colin said quietly as every eye in the room turned to stare at them.
“It would appear that we are about to either be thrown out of this fine establishment or be inducted into the mysteries of Mr. G’s criminal underground. It is unclear at this time which one,” Michael mused as men began to shift uneasily in their chairs.
Moments ticked by as if they were hours before the tavern keeper’s wife reappeared. “Follow me,” she commanded, and they arose to do as bidden.
The woman led them into a back hallway, which emptied out into what might have once been a storage room but was now used as the criminal offices of the elusive Mr. G.
As they entered the room, they saw a man of intense visage sitting behind a large mahogany wood desk of such quality that it would have been comfortable in any nobleman’s library. His eyes appraised Michael and Colin with cold calculation.
“Mr. G, I presume.” Michael returned the man’s look with equal intensity.
“The Earl of Ravenshollow, if I am not mistaken,” the man replied, standing and moving around to the front of his desk.
Michael felt a jolt of surprise ripple through his being, but he did not allow it to show in his expression. The men who followed us must have done their research.
“Mr. Barrington,” the man continued.
Colin was not as skilled at commanding his emotional expressions as Michael was, and genuine surprise spread across his face. “How…?”
A ghost of a smile fluttered across the other man’s lips. “I have my ways.”
Michael nodded. “Your reputation precedes you.”
“As does yours, Ravenshollow.” The man addressed Michael as a peer or as a superior, even. He had all of the hallmarks of a nobleman accustomed to finery and respect, but the hardened, biting edge of a true criminal.
“Then you know why I am here,” Michael replied, not mincing words.
“While I have no doubt that you would very much like your paintings back, you are more interested in the return of a certain Miss Rebecca Frampton,” Mr. G answered, a knowing gleam entering his eyes. “Am I wrong?”
“You are not,” Michael admitted. There was no reason to lie to the man who clearly knew everything already. “To that end … Do you know who took Rebecca Frampton and where she is being held?”
“I do.” Mr. G nodded, not bothering to hide his smugness.
Colin’s entire body spasmed in response, and Michael reached out to stop him from racing forward to take the man in hand. “Where is she?!” Colin shouted as Michael tightened his grip.
“I will tell you,” Mr. G agreed, amused by Colin’s emotional outburst. “But first, you will arrange a meeting for me.”
“A meeting with whom?” Michael asked as calmly as he could manage, in spite of his desire to smash the man’s face in until he told them where Rebecca was being hidden.
“Bring Lady Emmeline Livingston, nee Frampton, the Marchioness of Worthington, to me, and I will tell you where her sister is being held.”
Rage coursed through Michael’s entire being. “Over my dead body,” he ground out through clenched teeth before he could think better of it.
“That can be arranged,” Mr. G replied, his voice steely as it scraped across Michael’s nerves.
The men surrounding him, presumably his bodyguards, drew their weapons, glaring in challenge.
“Why do you wish to speak with the marchioness?” Colin asked, his muscles taught with barely constrained tension.
“She possesses something of great interest to me,” he admitted, shrugging as if it was none of their business. He behaved as if he had every authority to request what he was asking of them.
“What is this possession? Could we not simply bring you the item that you seek?” Colin offered.
“That is between the marchioness and I, not either of you,” Mr. G refused to answer. “My price is a conversation with the marchioness.”
Colin looked at Michael. “If it means saving Rebecca, you know that Emmeline would do anything,” he reminded him, for Michael’s ears only, “including speaking with a known criminal.”
“Absolutely not,” Michael shook his head firmly, his teeth grinding so hard that they felt as if they might break.
“I will give you some time to think it over. Take my request to the marchioness and see what she has to say regarding the matter. I will be in London for the week, but my patience is not infinite. If I do not get what I want by this exchange, then I will take more drastic actions.”
A cold chill rippled down Michael’s spine at the stone-cold, hard glare of the man before him. His tone and expression left no doubt that he meant what he said, and he had no problems taking a life in the process.
“If you lay a hand on either of the Frampton sisters, I will kill you,” Michael promised him. “Upon that, you have my word.”
Mr. G laughed, a hollow sound, his eyes glittering in challenge. “Oh, you and I will dance Ravenshollow, but it will not be today.”
His men stepped forward, their weapons at the ready to deal with any fight that might break out. “If you speak of this meeting to anyone, including the authorities, other than to the marchioness herself, I will see to it that Rebecca Frampton never sees her family again.”
Seeing that there was nothing short of violence and possibly death for them if they remained and pressed any harder, Michael and Colin left the room and made their way back down the corridor to the main tavern room.
Nodding discreetly at Mr. Hardy, Michael made a hand motion for the butler to remain where he was.
After leaving the tavern, the cousins ducked into the doorway of a nearby building to make certain that they were not being followed.
As they suspected, two of the men from the back room had followed them out onto the street.
Upon not seeing them, the men grumbled amongst themselves for a brief moment, then returned inside the tavern.
Michael and Colin walked to the carriage that they had left several streets away and waited for Mr. Hardy to join them. Several minutes later, Ezra Hardy climbed into the carriage. His demeanor was sober, nearly ominous in its intensity.
“I recognized Mr. G,” he wasted no time in telling them.
“Who is he? How do you know him?” Michael and Colin spoke as one, blurting out their questions in unison.
Mr. Hardy shook his head. “I do not mean that I remember his name or know him personally. I simply remember having seen him before. It is odd, but I have the distinct impression that behind the beard, I have seen and interacted with that man before.”
“In another tavern?” Michael asked.
“No.” He shook his head again. “I have seen him at a social gathering with the Frampton family.” His frown deepened, concern wrinkling his forehead.
“He has disguised himself well, but there is no hiding the nobility of his birth. I just cannot quite place him at the moment. The moment that it comes to me, I will send word to you immediately.”
Mr. Hardy rose to crawl out of the carriage once more, but Michael stopped him with a hand to his arm.
“If you recognized him, it is possible that he recognized you. If you go back in there, you could be risking your life and Miss Rebecca’s life.”
The butler paused. “I did not think of that.” He sighed, sitting back down on the bench seat.
“We need to speak with Emmeline,” Colin insisted. “Whether you like it or not, Michael, she has a right to know what was said.”
Michael gritted his teeth, but he knew that Colin was right. “I will not allow her to be served up to that dastardly fiend like a calling card on a silver tray.”
“Nor will I,” Colin reassured him, “but for Rebecca’s sake, we must come up with a plan that will not get her killed.
” His eyes begged for Michael to understand.
“I know that you love Emmeline, but I love Rebecca. I would not have anything bad happen to either of the sisters. I know that there is a way to get what we want and still keep Emmeline safe.”
“I will not allow Emmaline to meet with that man alone,” Michael insisted.
“She will not be alone,” Mr. Hardy intoned, the meaning in his words all too clear. “If he did recognize me, let us put that to some use. I will go with her. No man will touch her, or they will die in the trying.”
Pulling forth a pistol and blade from beneath his jacket, the butler swore the ultimate oath. “Upon this sacred iron I pledge my life in the service of my lady, and should it be my fate to die in her defense, so be it.” It was the vow of a liege man to his lady, a vow to his queen.