Scandalous Deception (Russian Connection 1)

moment he entered the room. Edmond moved to stand directly in front of the door.

“Yes?” he demanded.

“It is Jimmy.”

Edmond frowned at the youthful voice. “Who?”

“I work fer Chesterfield.”

Edmond reached to jerk the door open, unconcerned that it might be a very clever trap. After returning to London, he had shifted Chesterfield’s duties from keeping track of Howard Summerville, who was obviously of no interest, to Thomas Wade. For all the chaos, Edmond had not forgotten the man’s desperate desire for Brianna.

A slender lad with rough clothing and a cocky smile strolled into the room, his eyes darting about to locate the various items of worth with the skill of a trained thief. He could not, however, halt his squeak of surprise when Boris’s large hand descended on his shoulder.

“Keep your hands in your pockets, scamp,” the towering man growled.

Edmond stepped directly before the lad.

“You have news?”

The boy swallowed, doing his best to ignore the terrifying soldier holding him captive.

“I was told to come here if the gent I was watching left town.”

“And did he?”

“Aye. Slipped away early this morning.”

“This morning? Why the devil did you not come to me at once?”

“I had to follow the carriage to make certain it was actually leaving town, didn’t I? And then I had to make me way back here. I nearly broke me bloody neck in me rush.”

Edmond did not give a damn what the boy had endured. All that mattered was the fact that Thomas Wade was slipping from his grasp.

“Which direction did he go?”

“South.”

Surrey. The obscene bastard was on his way to Brianna. A sharp fear exploded through him as he dug in his pocket and pulled out a coin.

“Here.” He tossed the coin to the lad, who caught it with practiced ease. “Return to Chesterfield.”

“Pleasure doing business with you, guv,” the lad managed to mutter before Boris had firmly steered him out the door.

Edmond barely noticed as he moved across the room to collect his greatcoat and hat. Wade had well over an hour’s, perhaps as much as two, head start on him. It would take a near miracle for him to catch the carriage before it reached Meadowland.

He had jerked on his coat and was at the door when Boris halted him.

“Edmond.”

With the fear that he might be too late pulsing through him, Edmond barely forced himself to pause and glance toward his companion.

“What?”

“We must be on that boat.”

“I will return before Thursday,” he snarled, not giving a Tinker’s damn at this moment about Viktor Kazakov or his endless plots. He wrenched the door open. “Boris.”

“Yes?”