Chapter 10 #2
Luca watched Charlotte out of the corner of his eye as she settled onto the seat beside him.
Her posture was rigid, her chin lifted in that way that suggested she wanted him to think she was impervious to him.
And yet, he caught the faintest flicker in her eyes when their shoulders nearly brushed.
She would deny it until her last breath, but there was something between them.
Something elusive and unspoken, like a melody he couldn’t stop humming.
Every time he was near her, it felt curiously like he was home.
The carriage jolted to a stop, dragging him back to the present. Duty, not daydreams, awaited him. He stepped down to the pavement, boots clicking against the cobblestone, and extended his hand for Charlotte.
A figure strode purposefully towards him. Mr. Hillstead. Luca immediately noted the grave expression, the quickened pace. His pulse sharpened.
“We have Mr. Griffin,” Hillstead reported without preamble.
Now Hillstead had Luca’s full attention. “Where is he?”
“In his office,” Hillstead replied. “And I sent word to Lord Rupert, as you instructed. It was not without struggle, but Mr. Cloward and I managed to subdue him.”
“Good, good,” Luca muttered, relief mingling with grim anticipation.
Only then did Hillstead turn his attention to Charlotte, offering a bow. “Forgive my employer’s lack of manners. I am his most loyal, articulate, and talented reporter—Thomas Hillstead, at your service.”
Charlotte inclined her head politely. “A pleasure to meet you. I am—”
Hillstead cut her off with eager familiarity. “I know exactly who you are, Miss Winslow. The belle of Society. I’ve seen you at countless events.”
Luca didn’t miss the quick narrowing of Charlotte’s eyes. Before she could sharpen her tongue, he offered her his arm. “Shall we?”
To his relief, she accepted without protest, sliding her hand into the crook of his arm. He was acutely aware of her nearness as he led her inside, making certain no curious eyes marked their entrance. This was no place for whispers or speculation.
At the threshold of the office, he paused. “Charlotte,” he said quietly, “are you certain you wish to be here? What comes next may not be… pleasant.”
She lifted her chin a fraction, eyes steady. “I am certain.”
Her resolve impressed him even as it unsettled him. He wanted to shield her from the uglier sides of his world, yet he already knew she wouldn’t tolerate being left behind.
“Very well,” he sighed. “But do not say I didn’t warn you.”
Hillstead opened the door, and Luca stepped inside first. The sight before him was brutal but necessary: Griffin, bound to a chair, blindfolded and gagged, with the Bow Street Runner, Mr. Cloward, standing guard—pistol drawn, steady as stone.
Luca crossed the floor with deliberate steps, tore away the blindfold, and yanked the gag free. He bent slightly, letting Griffin meet his gaze. “If you scream, my associate will shoot you in the foot. Do you understand?”
Fear widened Griffin’s gaze. He nodded mutely.
“Good.” Luca’s tone softened, though his expression did not. “Answer a few questions, and you walk free. Refuse, and…” He let the silence hang like a noose. “Do you understand?”
Griffin hesitated. “What kind of questions?”
“Who owns the Ravenhurst Trading Company?” Luca demanded.
“I don’t know.”
Luca didn’t have time for games. Griffin knew something and he would get the truth out of him, one way or another. “You do. You’re the solicitor listed on every document.”
“That doesn’t mean I know the owner.”
“You’re protecting them,” Luca said flatly. “Why?”
Griffin’s jaw clenched, panic flickering across his features. “If I speak, I’m a dead man.”
“I’d be more worried about not leaving this room severely injured,” Luca countered.
“I—I want to live.”
Luca dragged a chair from the corner, scraping it across the floor, and sat squarely before him. “Then start talking. What are your duties for the Ravenhurst Trading Company?”
“I manage accounts. Nothing more.”
“You know more than you admit.”
“You don’t want to get involved,” Griffin hissed. “Untie me now, and we’ll pretend this never happened.”
Luca leaned back. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. My preference is the easy way. But when my associate joins us, you’ll regret your obstinance.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“We’ll see.”
As if on cue, the door opened and Lord Rupert entered, his expression a mask of calm menace, a velvet pouch swinging from his hand. He laid it on the desk and unrolled it, revealing knives, pliers, gleaming tools of torment.
“I trust I’m not late?” Rupert asked.
“Just in time,” Luca replied.
Griffin’s eyes darted wildly at the sight. “What are those?”
“These?” Rupert picked up the pliers and turned them thoughtfully in his fingers. “Instruments of persuasion. These here remove teeth. Slowly. Infections are rather troublesome, though.”
“You don’t frighten me,” Griffin said, though his voice quavered.
“I don’t intend to frighten you,” Rupert murmured, selecting a scalpel. “I intend to get what I came for.”
Griffin began to squirm, sweat beading at his temple. “You don’t understand. If I talk, they will kill me!”
“We can protect you,” Luca cut in, his tone firm. “Tell us who owns the Ravenhurst Trading Company, and this ends.”
“No.”
“Suit yourself,” Luca said, though inwardly, frustration gnawed at him.
Rupert raised the scalpel, his voice almost casual. “Which ear do you favor? Right or left?”
Griffin broke. “Stop! I’ll tell you. Just don’t—don’t cut me.”
Lowering the blade, Rupert said, “We’re listening.”
Griffin’s words tumbled out in desperation. “I don’t know the owner. I swear it. I only deal with a contact. A woman. Miss Dawlish.”
Luca straightened in his chair. “Miss Dawlish?”
“Yes. I meet her monthly at her townhouse in Cheapside. I can give you the address.”
“That won’t be necessary,” Luca said, his mind racing. “I know who she is.”
Griffin’s expression twisted. “Then you know she’s no harmless old lady. It’s all a facade. She is ruthless. She threatened to kill my family if I spoke her name.”
Luca studied him carefully. “And how do you know she is not the owner?”
“She’s not,” Griffin insisted. “At least—I don’t believe she is.”
Luca’s thoughts churned. Miss Dawlish. Of all people. How had he not seen it? He had fallen for her innocent act, not giving her a second thought.
Griffin wriggled his arms against the ropes, his wrists already raw and reddened. “I told you what I know. Now release me.”
Rupert’s eyes flicked towards Luca. “Do you believe him?”