Chapter 34
Darkness had settled over London by the time Adrian entered The Toothless Cat tavern. Six days had passed since the fire. Five, since Samantha had given O’Leary what he deserved.
Adrian and his associates had not been in contact during the ensuing days, just in case the authorities were watching. The last thing Adrian wanted right now was for Bow Street to figure out who his allies were.
A legitimate concern since Kendrick had already come to call on Adrian thrice. Elks had informed him on each occasion that Adrian wasn’t at home.
He now wondered how much longer he could avoid the chief constable.
A problem he’d deal with later, after he met with Simmons. The man’s insistence they speak and risk being seen together defied their agreement. And could therefore only mean that the matter Simmons wished to discuss was of the utmost urgency.
Adrian scanned the crowded taproom, spotted Simmons’s slim silhouette, and approached the corner in which he sat.
“What’s the problem?” Adrian asked after sliding into a vacant chair. A serving girl approached but Adrian waved her off. He’d no intention of staying long enough to enjoy a drink.
Simmons leaned toward him and folded his arms on the table. “Never said there was a problem. Just that we should meet.”
“This better be important,” Adrian hissed. “My skin is already starting to itch at the notion of us being seen together.”
“You think Bow Street has their eyes on you?” Wariness settled on Simmons’s face. He swept the room with his gaze.
“I took precautions,” Adrian assured him, “but there’s a reason why I wanted us to keep our distance from each other for a while.”
As it was, Simmons was likely the worst person Adrian could be caught with right now.
The man was Doctor Fellowes’s assistant at the Saint George’s Hospital morgue, so Kendrick would probably know him by sight.
In which case he’d wonder at Adrian’s reason for meeting with him like this, if he or one of his Runners saw them together.
Worse, it could lead Bow Street straight to the bodies of O’Leary’s men, though hopefully not to O’Leary himself.
“Your concern has merit. It’s the reason I didn’t stop by the house.” Simmons’s cool gaze held Adrian’s. As though reading his thoughts, he said, “Rest assured, no one will ever find that Irishman’s remains. However… This may interest you.”
Simmons produced a folded piece of paper from inside his jacket pocket. He handed it to Adrian, who initially frowned at the unfamiliar script that greeted him as he read the contents, at the formality of what appeared to be a document addressed to Barclay and Tritton, instead of an actual letter.
And then understanding crashed through him.
His mouth fell open and that terrible yawning sensation of no longer standing on solid ground made gooseflesh erupt across his back. He looked to Simmons, his fingers gripping the paper while trying to make sense of what he’d just learned. “Where did you get this?”
“Went through the Irishman’s pockets, didn’t I? When I saw what that was, I thought you might want to know.”
“Of course.” Adrian shoved the paper into his own jacket pocket. “You were right. Thank you.”
Simmons answered with a small nod and Adrian stood. It didn’t take long for him to exit the inn or to hail a hackney. His thoughts remained in turmoil during the twenty minutes it took him to reach St. James’s Square.
A devilish complication. That’s what this was.
By the time he walked through the front door he wanted only two things: a large glass of brandy and to share what he’d learned with Samantha.
But as luck would have it, he arrived at Number 3 St. James’s Square exactly as Kendrick was descending the front steps of the house. The chief constable paused on the pavement, a dark look in his eyes as Adrian climbed from the carriage.
“I was beginning to think your butler a liar,” said Kendrick while Adrian paid the driver. “Wouldn’t have thought you’d be out so often after all the excitement in recent days.”
“I’ve had a lot of tasks to attend to since the fire.
” Adrian started up the front steps, fully aware of Kendrick following right on his heels.
“Acquiring a new house involves certain logistics, to say nothing of all the meetings I’ve had to have with the bank, the insurance company, various dress makers and tailors, my secretary, and the workers tasked with clearing the rubble on Portman Square. ”
He knocked on the door which was instantly opened by Elks.
“Fair point,” Kendrick conceded. “Mind if I come in?”
“I do, actually.” Adrian stopped in the doorway. “It’s been a long day, so if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to relax with my family now. I can stop by your office in the morning.”
“I’m afraid that won’t do.” Kendrick whistled and a couple of Runners peeled away from the shadowy corners nearby.
“You see, I remember what happened now, and I am not going to wait until tomorrow morning for us to discuss it. So you can either let me in, or I can arrest you and let you spend the night in a cell. Your choice.”
It took tremendous effort for Adrian not to roll his eyes and sigh with exasperation. Fine. Best get this over with once and for all so they could move on.
Without saying another word, Adrian entered the foyer where he proceeded to take off his hat and gloves. Kendrick did the same and Elks closed the door, shutting out the rest of the world, along with Kendricks’s Runners.
To Elks Adrian said, “Please ask my wife and Murry to join the chief constable and me in the study,” before striding toward the room from which he’d been conducting his business in recent days.
He went straight to the side table and collected a glass.
“Brandy?” he asked, sending Kendrick a sidelong look when the man strolled in after him. A shake of the head gave Adrian his answer. He shrugged one shoulder and proceeded to pour himself a full measure. “Suit yourself.”
“You rendered me unconscious.” The comment was forcefully spoken — an accusation backed up by certainty. “I could have you charged with violence against an officer of the law. Make you spend a few years in prison.”
“But you won’t,” Adrian said, his gaze locking with Kendrick’s as he took a large sip of brandy.
“How do you know?”
“Because you’re not that big of an ass.”
Kendrick snorted. “No. That title goes entirely to you.”
Adrian stilled. He studied Kendrick more closely, noted the frosty expression in his light blue eyes, the firm set of his mouth, and the overall tension that made him look far more rigid than Adrian had ever see him.
This wasn’t a man who was merely angry because of what had occurred.
It was a man who felt humiliated, betrayed, and possibly even exploited.
Were Adrian in his position, he’d be furious. So rather than make excuses, he squared his shoulders and faced Kendrick directly. “You’re right. I abused your trust and our collaboration with each other, but I did so for your sake, so you would not be implicated in what had to happen.”
“That’s a bunch of horseshit, Croft, and you know it. You acted as you always do, in your own self-interest, with zero consideration for the larger impact.”
“Watch it, Kendrick. You’re in my home.”
“What of it?” Kendrick seethed. “Will you knock me out cold again if you disagree with what I’m saying?
Or will you just have me killed next time?
” When Adrian didn’t respond, he continued.
“You are constantly blinded by your need for vengeance. Against Newton, against Lawrence, against Mrs. Hillford, against Doctor Ashburry, Mrs. Lester, and now O’Leary. Where the hell does it end?”
Edward’s words echoed, carving out a hollow spot in Adrian’s chest. But it wasn’t pain or regret that poured in and filled it, but rather the harsh reality with which he was faced.
His ribs closed around that grim awareness and tucked it against his beating heart. “With the destruction of the person who orchestrated my sister’s death. Everything else is just an attempt at passing the time until I find them.”
“You need to stop and let the law work as intended.”
“I would, if I believed the law capable of doing its job effectively. Provided we’re not discussing those who target me and my family directly. Don’t ask me to let their fates be decided by others.”
“Where is O’Leary?” Kendrick asked, exactly at the same time as Samantha entered the room.
She was followed by Murry, who positioned himself in a corner behind Kendrick while Samantha moved to one of the three chairs the room had to offer. She gave Kendrick a cool greeting before she sat.
“I don’t know,” Adrian said in response to Kendrick’s question.
“And I’m supposed to believe that?” Kendrick asked.
Adrian took another sip of brandy, then strode toward the chair that stood behind his desk. “I don’t care what you believe, but it’s the truth.”
Kendrick scoffed. “Is he at least alive?”
Adrian narrowed his gaze on the chief constable. “No.”
The comment seemed to send a chill through the room. Silence followed for a number of seconds. Shock stretched across Kendrick’s features. He’d clearly not expected such a blatant confession.
It didn’t matter. If he ever tried to use it against Adrian, Adrian would simply deny having said it.
But since it felt relevant, he chose to explain. “O’Leary nearly killed me. Murry too. The bastard managed to stab both of us. What happened was an act of self-defense.”
When Kendrick just stood there, staring at Adrian as though attempting to figure out whether or not this were true, Adrian shucked his jacket and waistcoat, untucked his shirt and pulled it up so Kendrick could see the wound.
“I can remove the bandage if you want a closer look.”
“Please do,” Kendrick said, then turned to Murry. “You too.”