Chapter Seven #2
“I assure you, he is not,” he says, and he slides off the desk and makes his way over to the bookshelf behind me.
I turn in the leather chair, watching him as his fingers glide over the various spines of historic warfare.
Of the moments in history that changed the world.
“We have many esteemed former members to count among our ranks, including several members of Parliament, courtiers and noblemen, lawyers, doctors, even an astronaut.”
His fingers pause on the leather-bound book with no title, and I hold my breath.
He tugs lightly on the top, sliding it out an inch or two from its snug spot on the shelf, but then seems to think better of it and returns it to its original position.
I exhale silently, cursing whatever modicum of good sense he’s decided to indulge.
“I’m not sure a royal bastard and accused terrorist would do much to enhance your ranks,” I say.
“But I suppose I can talk to Kit and give it some thought.” I pause a moment, deciding on whether to chance it, but my mouth gets the better of me before I can think it all the way through.
“I can’t be the only rebellious royal who’s ever held a grudge against the rest of the family. ”
He slips back around to the front of the desk, and I track him in my seat, adjusting the peas against my aching jaw.
“Entire wars have been fought because some cousin or nephew or second son felt slighted,” he agrees.
“None of them have been part of Fox Rex, though. But wouldn’t it be nice to have a patron like that?
Imagine what our little club could accomplish. ”
His words turn the air to ice. “Shame there isn’t one hanging around in the wings right now,” I manage bitingly. “That would help recruitment more than I ever could.”
The instant the words leave my lips, I know I’ve said the wrong thing.
But instead of seizing my mistake by the throat, he simply regards me as his shoulders relax, and he perches on the desk once more.
Something about his face softens, even as the glint in his eyes sharpens, but when he speaks, he sounds almost gentle.
“So that’s what you want,” he murmurs. “Proof.”
It takes me a moment to backtrack and follow his train of thought, but once I do, I touch my lip self-consciously. “Proof of what?”
“We both know the answer to that.” He takes a sip from his mug.
“Lord Christopher Abbott-Montgomery, Earl of Clarence and nephew of the Queen, is the only member we have who is connected to the royal family. I hope to change that next year, with your arrival, but for now, I fear he is the closest our ranks come to being royal.”
He doesn’t say Ben’s name, but his denial is proof enough that Ben really is part of this somehow, and Guy is protecting him.
Why? Because Ben is funding their attacks?
Because he’s giving the Abr inside information about the family?
My stomach turns at the thought, but I keep the disgust off my face.
None of this is new information. Only confirmation, or at least as close as I’m going to get tonight.
“Maybe next year, then,” I say, letting the edge return to my voice. “So long as you stop kidnapping me and threatening to kill my boyfriend.”
“Kidnap?” says Guy, his eyes widening with innocent surprise. “I was under the impression you came willingly. My sincerest apologies, Evan. And again, I assure you, we have nothing but the deepest respect for Lord Clarence. He is an asset to our organization, and we protect our own.”
His voice dips slightly as he says this last part, and I can’t stop the shudder that runs through me. “I don’t doubt it.”
He smiles, as if we’ve come to an agreement after hours of negotiations, and he offers me his hand. “Now that we understand each other, I’m afraid I must be going. It was a pleasure, Miss Bright—truly. And I look forward to meeting again next year.”
“Can’t wait,” I say, not bothering to hide my lack of enthusiasm. “Does this mean you aren’t going to kill me?”
“Kill you?” He tilts his head again. “We at Fox Rex are revolutionaries, not murderers.” He picks up the puzzle box, which is once again sealed. “Here—as a reminder of what’s to come.”
I take the box, confused, but he’s still smiling as if nothing about this is out of the ordinary. “Am I supposed to open it?” I say, and he shrugs.
“That is entirely up to you.” He nods toward me, the malevolent glint in his gold-rimmed eyes returning. “Do try to stay out of harm’s way, Miss Bright. I would hate for anything to happen to you before we meet again.”
He walks to the door, which opens on its own, making it clear that our conversation wasn’t private.
As soon as he’s gone, I pretend to inspect the box again and place it in my pocket for safekeeping, only to palm the tiny tracking device that someone sewed into the hem of Kit’s cardigan—a tracking device no one would be looking for, not when it’s supposed to be his.
I could activate the panic button, though if I really am about to get out of here unharmed, then the last thing I want is to end the mission early.
But while I still don’t have the proof I need that Ben is involved, I have enough hints and circumstantial evidence to know that with enough pressure, with enough time, Guy—John—will let something slip that he didn’t mean to.
That’s all I need—more time. More time to talk to him.
More time to earn his trust, as much as it can be earned.
My gaze drifts toward the leather-bound book, and as I wait for Dylan to fetch me, I pretend to browse the shelves again and slip the silver disc in the crevice between two misshapen spines.