Baron of Hearts (Master of Monsters Book 2)

by Hadley, Stephen L.

  Leo frowned. “What offer?”

  “You offered me a bit of property, once. I declined at the time, but circumstances are different now. So? What do you say?”

  Leo’s frown deepened as he struggled to recall the conversation from weeks earlier. “My old estate?” he asked, at last. “I thought you said it would be bad for business?”

  “Times change,” Davin said. “It served its purpose as a warehouse, but you and I are moving on to bigger and better things. You’re a count now, after all. And I’m… well, there’s no official title for what I am. But I suppose you could think of it like a countess of sorts, in the Low Crown. And given the… work you did on the foundation, I expect it will come in handy.”

  Leo chewed the inside of his cheek as he eyed Davin warily. Despite their occasional conflicts, he still wanted to trust the woman. She might very well have saved his life at Nicolo’s thwarted rally, after all. But the thought of the woman owning one half of the tunnel he’d built to connect the two manors filled him with unease.

  Right up until it didn’t.

  Leo nodded slowly. He was still thinking like a baron, constantly under assault and fighting every battle on the defensive. He wasn’t providing Davin access to him—she was giving him access to her.

  “All right,” he said. “It’s yours.”

  “Excellent,” Davin said, smiling. “I’ll make use of it presently. My thanks.”

  Bowing in a way that was either mocking or affectionate—it was difficult to tell with her—Davin turned to leave.

  “Davin, wait,” Leo called. He paused, waiting for her to turn back to face him, but to his surprise, she did not. “Those men at Nicolo’s rally. You promise me they weren’t yours?”

  “They weren’t,” Davin replied. She kept her back to him, but even without seeing her face, Leo could tell she was frustrated. Not at him, he guessed, but at something outside of her control. Something he likely couldn’t even imagine.

  “You said you’re something of a countess now?” he continued. “Does that mean you’ll be able to… exert more control in the future?”

  This time, Davin did turn. Her face was stern and thoughtful, but she nodded.

  “I can’t make any promises, Leo,” she said. “But I’ll warn you if anything comes up.”

  And with that, Davin turned away and marched proudly back down the side-street she’d come from. Her men followed after a moment, vanishing into the darkness. Then, once the last of them was fully hidden from sight, one of the men at Leo’s side let out a loud, shaky breath.

  “Glad you were here with us, Your Grace,” the man said. “I thought that was it for us.”

  Leo nodded distractedly before remembering himself and offering the man a small, tired smile.

  “You never know,” he said. “We’re not there yet.”

  ***

  “Master,” Brigit murmured, pulling the door open wider to admit him. “Welcome home.”

  Leo nodded gratefully and waited until she’d closed the door behind him. Then, with his borrowed escorts trapped safely outside, he sighed and slumped back against the wood.

  “Thank you, Bri,” he said. “It’s finally over.”

  “Over?” Brigit asked. Eyeing him, she frowned in concern as Leo slid to the floor. She crouched beside him, touching him gently on the brow as he rested his face against his knees. “Leo, what’s over?”

  “All this mess,” he muttered. Allowing Brigit to coax him from his shell, he smiled wearily at her. “Did Cirilla send a messenger?”

  “She… she did,” Brigit said. “He said that Wyden is the Duke now. That you’re a count. And that Nyssa is staying with her for a while.”

  Leo nodded. “That about sums it up.”

  “It sounds like you’ve had a busy day,” Brigit suggested mildly. “And you look like you could use some sleep.”

  “I could.”

  “Here,” she said, offering her hand and helping pull him to his feet. “Let’s get you to bed then.”

  “I can’t.” Stifling an involuntary yawn, Leo grimaced. “There’s work that needs to be done. I’ll rest later.”

  “Leo!” Brigit chided.

  “Bri,” he answered, before she could continue. “I’ll be fine. I just need some tea. I sent a message to Petre last night so I’m sure he’ll be here early. You know how he is. If he arrives, just send him up, would you?”

  “I—yes, of course. But, Leo, you’re sure you won’t sleep? There’s still time.”

  Shaking his head, Leo pushed past her and began to mount the stairs that led to his chambers.

  “Just make sure the tea is hot,” he called back to her.

  He could feel Brigit staring at him as he climbed and resisted the urge to look back. She meant well, but in this case, she was wrong. There was no time to waste. Because, for the Eighth Count of Ansiri, there would never be enough.

  Sitting down at his desk, Leo regarded the rising tide of papers with a feeling akin to horror. The pile had more than doubled since the last time he’d paused to address it. Reports of household expenditures he quickly gathered and discarded. Brigit knew what she was doing and he trusted her not to spend recklessly. The same could be said for the brothel reports delivered by one of Davin’s men. Though the stories hinted at by the rows and columns of figures were far more scandalous than the domestic ones, Leo soon found himself giving the pages only the most fleeting of examinations. It mattered little if Davin skimmed a few pennies here and there; the brothels were now more of an investment in her than in the establishments and gartered legs within.

  No, the bulk of Leo’s attention soon fell upon the last of the documents on the desk. Their natures were far more varied and of far greater importance than a few sovereigns, and he poured over them with greater interest. Sipping the tea that had been delivered sometime in the interim, Leo read without ceasing. There were shipping records he’d requested from Cirilla, lists of significant donors and vocal supporters from Nicolo, and a handful of court documents that had been delivered after his humiliating defeat at the hands of Terras and Count Bordeau.

  It was the memory of the latter that made Leo set the page in his hands down. He hadn’t seen Bordeau among the counts at Wyden’s ascension, but the man had not been dealt with yet. Bordeau had been the Sixth Count, which meant he would now have been promoted to Second Count. If the man was wise enough to realize that the death of Terras would leave him vulnerable, perhaps he would simply return home to his county seat.

  But, the more Leo considered the matter, the less likely that outcome seemed. He remembered Bordeau’s smug, hateful smile at the hearing and fought the urge to hurl his teacup at the wall. Bordeau would pay for what he’d done—Leo would make sure of it.

  Run, hide, or fight, the man would pay.

  He was still brooding on the subject when a knock at the door sounded and Petre VanAllen entered. The youth was uncharacteristically quiet and merely nodded a greeting in Leo’s direction before settling in at the foot of Leo’s bed.

  Leo watched Petre for a moment, waiting for him to speak. Then, when Petre did not, he frowned and turned in his chair to face him.

  “You’re quiet, Petre,” he noted.

  Petre flashed a brief, insincere smile before looking away. “I suppose I am, Your Grace,” he said.

  “None of that!” Leo said, chuckling even as he tried to deduce what might be bothering the man. “You don’t think I’m going to insist on that formal nonsense, do you? Especially not from you.”

  “That’s very kind,” Petre said. He sighed heavily, staring at his hands. “Leo, there’s something I wanted to ask you.”

  “Anything,” Leo said. Rising, he turned his chair to face the youth more directly. “What’s on your mind?”

  “There are… rumors going around,” Petre said cautiously. “Rumors about you.”

  “What sort of rumors?”

  “It’s nothing specific,” Petre explained. “Just people talking. This
whole… situation with the Duke. And now Sutherpoint. It has people on edge.”

  “I can imagine,” Leo said, leaning forward. It was hard not to simply lose his temper and demand answers. Petre’s ignoble behavior was charming at times, but Leo sometimes wished he would set it aside when dealing with important matters.

  “I went for a drink last night and heard some men talking,” Petre continued. “And one of them pointed out that your enemies have a funny way of disappearing.”

  Leo tensed suddenly and had to try very hard to keep from gripping the arms of his chair. While it was inevitable that word of his feuds would eventually spread, the fact that Petre was the one mentioning them meant something larger and more significant was afoot.

  Forcing himself to keep his face calm and expressionless, Leo slowly nodded.

  “I see,” he murmured.

  “The Duke seemed to think you had something to do with Count Terras vanishing,” Petre said. “And it’s not as though you tried to keep it a secret from me.”

  “And?” Leo asked, rather more coldly than he’d intended. “Shouldn’t that please you? You had more cause to hate Terras than anyone.”

  “I did—I do,” Petre said quickly. “I don’t care if you killed him, Leo. Actually, I kind of hope that you did. But… that’s not the point.”

  “Then what is?”

  “The Hammonds,” Petre said, meeting Leo’s eyes directly for the first time since arriving. “You fought with them as well. Baron Hammond died under suspicious circumstances. His son was found murdered in an alley. And you, out of nowhere, inherited their entire fortune.”

  “I’m not hearing your point, Petre,” Leo snapped.

  “You also fought with my father before he was murdered.”

  Leo hesitated, sighing and folding his hands in his lap. He wanted to continue staring Petre down, but knew instinctively it would be the wrong decision.

  “I see,” he said. “And you think I had something to do with it?”

  “I hope not. But I wanted to come and ask you, man to man.”

  Leo sighed again, reclining and gazing up at the ceiling.

  “No, Petre. I had nothing to do with your father’s death,” he lied. “Yes, I fought with him. He was beating one of his slaves in the street and I intervened. But I’ve fought with plenty of people who are still alive. There was no point in making a bigger issue out of it. It’s not as though I gained anything by your father’s death.”

  “And that’s the whole story?” Petre demanded.

  Leo frowned, glancing at him. “Entirely,” he said. “I spoke with your father only that one time, for not even a full minute. Even I don’t make enemies quite that fast.”

  Petre nodded, slowly at first then more enthusiastically. “I… thank you, Leo. That makes me feel better. I’m sorry I….”

  “Accused me of murder?” Leo teased cautiously. “Don’t worry about it. You want justice. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “Still, I—I’m glad you didn’t do it. I owe you a lot. I’m not sure what I’d do if… if I couldn’t trust you.”

  “You can trust me,” Leo lied again. He stood, stretching and patting the youth on the arm. “And believe me, I’m the one who’s glad. I’ve no idea how I would have managed to pay you two thousand sovereigns. I don’t want to go down in history as the first bankrupt count in the history of Ansiri.”

  That, at last, drew a half-hearted laugh from Petre.

  “You could always borrow it from your new wife,” he pointed out.

  Leo groaned, wincing in mock distress.

  “Don’t remind me,” he said.

  ***

  Brigit found Leo shortly after he escorted Petre to the door. From the look on her face, she’d been worrying again. But her tension eased to find Leo whole and smiling.

  “What did he want?” she asked in a quiet voice.

  “Wanted to know if I’d killed his father,” Leo admitted. “I guess people are starting to notice that my enemies don’t last long.”

  “And?” Brigit demanded in a whisper. She glanced around the empty foyer, then stepped closer anyway. “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth. I didn’t kill Baron VanAllen.”

  “That’s—”

  “The truth,” Leo insisted. Then, with a slight shrug, he added, “Technically.”

  He didn’t expect Brigit to laugh—and she didn’t—but neither did he expect her scowl. “That’s cruel, Leo,” she said.

  “What?” he shot back, incensed. “How? How is that cruel? Would you prefer I confessed to the whole thing? His father was a lout and I did this city a favor. Or would you prefer I told Petre everything and cut him down as he ran for help? Does that sound less cruel to you?”

  Brigit backed away, wide-eyed, and Leo instantly regretted his outburst. Truth be told, he hated the necessity of lying to Petre. But to be reminded of it, by Brigit of all people, stung more than he cared to admit.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “That was uncalled for.”

  “It was,” Brigit agreed. Sighing, she glanced at the door as if expecting Petre to come bursting back through. “But you’re right, Master. I doubt there’s a better option. I just… he seems like a good lad. I hate to see him used like this.”

  “Me too,” Leo said. “But that’s the difference between me and people like Petre’s father.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Baron VanAllen tried to beat his slave to death in the middle of the street,” Leo reminded her. “But I’m actually looking after Petre. The best tools are the ones you use, respectfully, not the ones you throw away.”

  ***

  It was well past midday when Nicolo finally arrived. Leo greeted him graciously as always, though inwardly he chafed at the delay. Still, he was accustomed enough to Nicolo’s sense of time to expect such imprecision.

  Ushering the soon-to-be alderman into his study, Leo offered the man a drink. Nicolo accepted it, then handed over a stack of crisp, neatly bound pages in return.

  “This is all of them, then?” Leo asked, flipping through the stack. His own drink forgotten, he seated himself on the arm of a chair and began to skim.

  “All of them,” Nicolo confirmed. “Every last slave in my inventory. Though, honestly, you might have been better off just stopping by. A few of them aren’t quite… house-broken yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Leo said, not even bothering to look up. “I’ll take them all.”

  He didn’t need to look to see the grin on Nicolo’s face. The man’s surprise and pleasure were apparent through his voice alone.

  “All of them, Your Grace?” the man asked.

  Nodding, Leo tossed the packet aside. He straightened, shaking Nicolo’s hand before retrieving his own drink.

  “All of them,” he agreed. “As well as any you can acquire for the next few months. You’ll be an alderman soon. I’d like you to be… undistracted.”

  Nicolo chuckled, lifting his glass in a toast. “To profit, Your Grace. May it always be at your expense.”

  Leo grinned, raising his drink in answer.

  “The world is changing, my friend,” he said. “Here’s to the ones that shape it.”

  To Be Continued

  Thank you!

  Thank you so much for reading Baron of Hearts ! It’s only thanks to the support and encouragement of fans like you that I’m able to write books like this. If you enjoyed the story, would you consider leaving a review? Your feedback helps ensure other readers discover my books, helps me improve as an author, and allows me to write novels that people love to read.

  Leo and company will return in Count of Souls .

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  About the Author:

  Stephen L. Hadley is a former banker from the American Midwest, where he now pursues his dream of being a full-time author. He lives with his fiancée, several dying houseplants, and an ever-growing, soon-to-be-sentient stack of board games. He also holds a B.S. in Communications, the irony of which is not lost on him.

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