Then again…
His chest tightened at the thought of a white gown draped perfectly over a trim form, moving elegantly through a crowded ballroom, a gold mask obscuring her features, but not her grace, not her essence. Not her passion.
A crash nearby took him out of his thoughts and back into the present, and his instincts reared to life. He shoved the goddess back into the lockbox of his mind, focusing on his task at present.
He’d had enough with the politeness of his day-to-day office life. Amelia certainly livened it up, but he had not been a spy for so long that his life felt tedious, even with her spirit. He needed to feel alive again, he needed to feel the thrill of danger at his fingertips, needed to whet the skills that had made him who he was.
He’d saved this particular errand for a time when he felt the thirst for action rising within him, and tonight was it.
It was a rather insignificant task, considering his usual fare, but given the utter silence of his more critical challenges, he would take what he could get.
A landlord mistreating his tenants when one of them was a woman he was coming to hold in high regard was an excellent excuse to become the Rogue again in truth.
The damp cobblestone added a fine chorus to his steps as horses and other members of the nightlife trod upon it, and soon enough, the address he sought was before him.
He couldn’t believe Amelia hadn’t asked about this again, and, in fact, did not believe it. He suspected she was going mad underneath her relatively calm exterior. After that day he’d looked so terrible in her estimation, she’d made a concentrated effort not to plague him, and it was a refreshing change.
She would be delighted with the information he could present to her in the morning.
With that thought, he pushed open the door to the building and made his way up the creaking stairs, examining the crooked and leaning walls as he did so. Why would someone with holdings in the country live in a place like this, he wondered. Even when he had been nothing more than a wastrel without means and morals, he’d chosen better furnishings.
No matter, it would make this interview far more suited to its task.
When he reached the proper apartments, Gabe tested the doorknob and, finding it most unwisely unlocked, shoved his way into the room without knocking.
It was dark, dank, and sparse, even for a cheap apartment like this, and it smelled quite oddly of almonds and starch. There was no sound but the weak crackling of a fire in the hearth, and a strange, muffled noise from the room beyond.
Gabe made a face and rolled his eyes as he moved in that direction, hoping against hope that he would not find anything more unpleasant than vermin in here. On cue, his boot kicked something small and soft that squeaked, and he stepped quickly to his left, not even bothering to glance down.
The sitting room of the apartments was in complete disarray, furniture overturned, and one leg of a chair cracked and splintered. The bottom of the drapes on one side had been jaggedly cut, and the fabric was not found in the surrounding area. Two candles flickered on an untouched table in the corner, and a series of small, dark stains on the floor led into the bedchamber, where more faint light flickered.
He forced his breathing to slow even as his heart quickened. Quietly and efficiently, he scanned the room for whoever had caused this chaos. Finding no one hiding there, Gabe slowly and stealthily continued forward, his boots making no sound on the worn floorboards. Pressing his back against the door, he inched his way into the room, scanning it quickly with his eyes.
He felt a sharp jab of disappointment when he found a portly man in a bloodstained linen shirt and button-less waistcoat moaning on the floor, his mouth gagged with the drapery fabric. The man looked up at him with pleading eyes, one of which was swelling and darkening, which did nothing for Gabe’s mood, and flailed his tightly bound hands in distress. His arms had been skillfully pinioned to his sides, and his nose was swollen and caked in the same blood currently taking up space on his clothing and on the floor.
“Dammit,” Gabe muttered as he completed his search of the bedchamber. Finding no one hiding here, either, he pursed his lips and stared at the pathetic man. “Please don’t tell me you’re Alderson.”
The man nodded, making another muffled sound of distress.
Gabe frowned at him. “Shut up. It’s not as though I can understand you.”
The man’s brow furrowed, and he attempted to heave himself to a sitting position but could not manage to do so.
Gabe watched with amusement as he continued to try. “Maybe if you rolled to one side,” he suggested mildly.
That did not go over well with Alderson, who ceased his ridiculous wriggling and lay still on the floor, gazing up at the ceiling, still fuming.
“I’m not going to play nursemaid,” Gabe told him as he strode more fully into the room and sat in a sturdy chair by the fire. He rocked to the back legs and folded his arms. “I was coming to do roughly the same thing. Only I would have broken a few fingers, and you wouldn’t be conscious at this moment.”
Alderson jerked to look at him, eyes as wide as they could go, which was not far for the left.
Gabe nodded in confirmation. “Yes, and a rather pleasant sleep you would have had, but you would have paid for it with a raging headache tomorrow. Although…” He sniffed and glanced around the room, then snorted at the impressive collection of bottles in the corner. “You were already destined to have one. And that would explain your rather unfortunate girth.”
Alderson made some noise of protest, but Gabe silenced him with a look.
“Now,” Gabe continued, rocking his chair a little, “I am going to remove your gag, only the gag, and then I will ask you some questions. You are going to answer the questions honestly and completely but without being annoyingly longwinded, and we will proceed accordingly. If you fail these simple instructions, I will take care of that other eye, your kneecaps, and possibly some internal organs.”
He saw the bulky throat work several times and allowed himself to smirk a little.
“Are we agreed?” he asked as congenially as Rook might have done.
Alderson nodded so rapidly his head thumped against the floor.
“Steady on,” Gabe scolded, righting his chair and going over to the great lump. “No one is that excited to see me. I have a reputation to maintain.” He grabbed at the wad of fabric and tugged it free.
Alderson gasped and choked, gagged a few times, and indulged in some very dramatic breathing, as well as some rather colorful attempts at curses, which were slurred, either from drink or the swelling and bleeding lip he sported.
Gabe sighed and gave the man a look. “Are you quite finished?”
Alderson groaned and twisted to his side. “Help me up, then. Choking on my own blood is a beastly business.”
The cultured tone of the man’s voice surprised him, even if it was rough and low in timbre. That was an interesting paradox. Gabe hauled the man to a sitting position and waited for him to adjust himself back against the foot of the bed.
“There, now,” Alderson said with a sigh, closing his eyes. “That’s better. How can I be of assistance, sir?”
Gabe smiled at the faintly patronizing tone in the man’s voice. “You own and manage properties in Surrey,” he said, returning to his chair. “More specifically in Elmbridge.”
Alderson looked at him with a darkly furrowed brow. “What d’you want in Elmbridge?”
Gabe raised a brow. There went the cultured tone, and, as he suspected, the man was a great pretender and nothing more. “I want to talk about a cottage on the road to Finley, about seven miles from Cobham.”
Alderson made an irritated noise and leaned his head back against the bed. “Oh, blimey, no’ again. No’ twice in one night.”
Gabe frowned at him. “Again? Who else asked about it?”
“Few weeks back, some bloke took a shining to it,” Alderson said, sniffling loudly. “Asked all sorts o’ questions. Seemed to think I’d
done something wrong.”
“That was my man,” Gabe interrupted shortly, leaning forward in his chair and folding his hands together. “I don’t care about that. What about tonight?”
Alderson gave him a bleary look. “I already answered the lady’s questions about the cottage near Finley and Cobham.”
Gabe stilled and stared at the man for longer than he normally would have, but a sheen of red suddenly obscured his vision. He blinked twice but could not clear it. “A lady?” he repeated in a cold, stiff tone, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention. “What lady?”
Alderson must have been more intelligent than Gabe gave him credit for. He looked bloody terrified, and with good reason, and he sat up straighter. “No more than fifteen minutes ago, sir. Lady came in dressed as a bloke in dark clothing, snuck up on me as I was ‘aving a drink, walloped me over the head, and when I came to, I was tied to the chair in the sitting room.”
Gabe closed his eyes and fought for control, his temper raging and running rampant through him. “Tell me,” he managed through clenched teeth, “what she looked like.”
“Tall,” Alderson said quickly, his voice rising in pitch, “big eyes, strong jaw, and stronger than she seems. Hair was in a cap a’ firs’, but she took it off, and it was brown, and she wore it tied back. She… she knew her way ‘round a knife, sir. And throws a punch like any street fighter I ever saw. Smart-mouthed, too. Cheeky as a devil. If I weren’t scared she’d gut me, I’d have taken a shine to her.”
Gabe’s head snapped up, and he favored Mr. Alderson with a seething look that he felt to his toes. His heart was pounding in his chest with anger, with indignation, and, he would admit, with a good deal of fear.
Amelia had come here to find this man, who was at least twice her size and ask him questions in the middle of the night. She had the situation sorted, obviously, but the evidence of her efforts only made him shake further still. He should have known she wasn’t as complacent as she’d appeared. He ought to have seen her plan before she’d ever set foot out tonight. And he would most certainly be having a word with whoever the hell was supposed to be tailing her when Daisy went home. She ought to have been protected. She should never have made it halfway to the building tonight. She should… well, she would hear all about what she should and should not have done when his hands found her smooth little neck in the morning.
In the meantime, he had a job to do.
He shoved out of his seat and went over to Alderson, lowering himself to meet him at eye level. “You will tell me everything you told her,” he ordered in his most dangerous tone, surprising even himself. “Every single detail.”
Alderson began to protest at once. “I already answered her…”
Gabe slammed his fist into the side of the man’s massive head and gripped his greasy hair to turn his face back to him. “I said every detail,” he growled. “Even the insignificant ones. You will tell me what she said, what she did, in every detail. Do you understand me?”
The wide eyes widened further, and he tried to nod.
“If,” Gabe continued in the same manner, “there is anything else I want to know, you will oblige me by answering those questions. And when we’ve finished our little interview, if you have done well, I will cut the ropes around you, kindly ignoring the fact that you were quite thoroughly bested and thrashed by a woman half your size and age. Then, I will leave you to your bleeding peace and drink. Do you understand me?”
Alderson nodded frantically, his head lolling against the mattress.
“Answer me,” Gabe barked, fury rolling off him in great waves.
“Yes, sir!” Alderson chirped, his voice nearly squeaking.
Gabe sat back on his haunches, exhaled slowly, and fixed his gaze on his victim. “Very good. Start at the beginning, if you would be so kind.”
Chapter Sixteen
She was late.
It irritated him that she was late.
If she’d had the evening of a woman who behaved herself, as she was supposed to have done, she would not have been late. She would have had a quite pleasant night’s sleep and not been so fatigued that the rising would have been difficult. Then he would not have been pacing his office like a madman waiting for her to arrive, so he could throttle her, yell at her, hold her, then throttle her again.
Or maybe he would yell and then throttle. Or berate.
Any of the alternatives sounded appealing at this point.
At three in the morning, he’d considered abducting her from the boarding house and interrogating her about her idiocy, but he’d decided, halfway into changing his clothes, that waiting until he had some rationality would be a better choice. Let her think she was safe in her anonymity for the moment. Let her be quite proud of herself for the time being.
Hell would rain down on her shortly.
He was not anywhere near rational at the moment, but he’d had several hours to concoct a scathing rant that made him feel quite proud. There would probably be tears on her part, a good deal of defensive yelling, and she would probably shake with sobs and humiliation.
Perhaps he would hold her at that point, but he might just ignore her tears altogether.
Killing was preferable to kissing in his mind at present.
But murder tended to be frowned upon even in his station, particularly when the reason had nothing to do with national security or endangered British citizens.
One particular British citizen was in very great danger at this moment. He wondered, faintly, if that counted.
He heard the outer door of the office open and found himself smiling with satisfaction. He moved to the front of his desk and leaned against it, folding his arms.
The seconds ticked by, and he could hear the low murmur of voices from the front. His instructions to the others had been clear, so it was only a matter of time.
At that moment, his office door opened. Amelia was staring back into the front office in confusion as she untied the ribbons of her bonnet.
“Did something happen?” she asked by way of greeting as she entered. “One and Two hardly said a word, and they looked quite uneasy.”
“Shut the door,” Gabe replied simply, keeping his voice as even as possible.
Amelia looked at him at once, eyes wide, her hands freezing in the action. “What’s wrong?”
He gestured with his head. “The door.”
She turned to close it instantly, then yanked off her bonnet and went to work on her spencer. “What is going on, Gabe? You’re frightening me.”
“Good.” His voice was clipped and sharp, and he did not care. He let the fury that had been simmering beneath the surface rise again and enjoyed the way it seemed to ripple across his body.
Amelia shed her jacket and put her hands on her hips, staring at him intently. “What is going on?”
“You tell me.”
Her eyes widened, and she gestured incredulously with one hand. “Tell you what?”
“First,” he drawled coldly, “you can tell me what the hell you were thinking last night.”
She stiffened at once, and her hand dropped to her side. Gabe watched as her eyes shifted from curious and worried to denying and defensive, then finally, to cold and vacant, her expression suddenly a mask. “You know,” she said in a hard, lifeless tone.
He smirked a little. “Would you like to know how I know?”
She scoffed and folded her own arms, averting her eyes. “Probably some oaf you had tailing me.”
“No,” he barked at once, shoving up from his desk. “The oaf I had tailing you should have told me, but he didn’t notice anything, which I’m sure was your plan all along. If he had done his duty, you would never have made it ten paces outside your door, because he would have forced you back and guarded the bloody door all night long.” He barely restrained the snarl he felt rising within him. “He is no longer tailing you. That apparently impossible task now belongs to someone who really does have better things to do that are fairly sig
nificant, but since you are determined to be reckless and idiotic, he is now all yours. And you will absolutely be prevented from these nighttime adventures in the future, should you decide to be so foolish ever again. Congratulations, I hope you are satisfied.”
Amelia’s jaw tightened, but she did not move from where she stood. “Hardly,” she muttered.
It took all his strength and restraint not to go over and shake her. Instead, he skewered her with a look. “I beg your pardon?”
She shook her head quickly, then asked, “So, how did you find out, if I may be so impertinent as to ask?”
Damn, she was impudent, and if he weren’t so furious, he would have been markedly impressed. And amused enough to want to kiss her.
But he was furious.
And he wasn’t.
For his own sake, he ignored her tone and offered a placating smile. “Because Mr. Alderson told me.”
Amelia’s fair eyes went wide as saucers, and she faltered back a step. “You…?” She swallowed, and her cheeks flushed slightly. “You were there?”
He continued to smile, now quite tightly, and nodded at her. “Indeed. Apparently shortly after you, as he was still bleeding, and he had quite a good memory for detail once I convinced him to share.”
Amelia turned away and raised a shaking hand to her brow, the other still planted on her hip. “What did he tell you?” she asked unsteadily.
“Everything,” Gabe replied with clear emphasis. “All that you said, all that he said, everything you did, every perfect detail down to the ill-fitted boots you wore that were somehow worn in the toe even though they were obviously too large for you.” He smiled thinly. “Who did you steal those from?”
She jerked her neck around to glare at him. “Excuse me for not having the proper attire in which to interrogate someone. I’m a bit out of practice.”
“Dammit, Amelia!” he barked, his control snapping. “Do you have any idea what it was like to find out that you had been the one to get there before me? Any…” He trailed off, shaking his head. He moved around his desk, shoving his hands into his hair, turning away from her.
A Rogue About Town (London League, Book 2) Page 19
