p; Stefan replaced the fire screen, then joined Dimitri at the window.
“You look like hell.”
“Which is precisely how I feel,” Dimitri admitted.
The duke’s astute glance lingered on the bloody rip in Dimitri’s coat.
“Shall I summon a surgeon?”
“I have recovered from far worse.” He took a drink of the vodka. “Have you spoken to Emma this morning?”
“It is still early. She is asleep in her bedchamber.”
Dimitri narrowed his gaze. Emma was frantic with her concern for her sister, not to mention anxious to stick a dagger in his heart, he would bet his last ruble she was pacing her floor as she awaited his return.
Assuming she had not found a means of slipping past Huntley’s servants.
“Are you certain?”
Huntley grimaced. “I personally locked her in her rooms despite my wife’s fervent protests. Any debt between us is now paid in full.”
A sympathetic smile touched Dimitri’s mouth. He had been subjected to Leonida’s “fervent protests” during her stay in St. Petersburg.
“Agreed.”
“Tell me what happened after I left,” Huntley commanded. “Did you manage to locate Sanderson?”
Dimitri rubbed the aching muscles of his neck, still awaiting the sense of elation he had expected to feel. He told himself that he was too weary to properly celebrate his victory.
“I apprehended him as his carriage was leaving his town house. By the amount of luggage he had packed I assume he intended to be away from his home for a considerable length of time.”
“Did he struggle?”
“He fell to his knees, weeping like a baby.”
Huntley shook his head in disgust. “Spineless coward.”
“He did manage one lucky shot,” Dimitri muttered, his arm aching from the bullet wound. “The bastard.”
“Where is he now?”
“Your message to Liverpool ensured the prime minister was prepared for my arrival with my captive. Liverpool swore that Sanderson would be well guarded until he could finish his confession to the king.”
“And then?”
“Then he is to be given into my care to be taken to Alexander Pavlovich.”
“What of the others?”
Dimitri shrugged as he turned to pace the floor. Despite the exhaustion that clung heavily to his body, he felt oddly restless.
Or perhaps not so oddly, he wryly acknowledged.
The incessant need to be with Emma was an itch that would not be dismissed. She was his to protect, a savage voice whispered in the back of his mind. Not Huntley’s.
“The king’s guards have been sent to capture Timmons and Jergens. They should be in custody by the end of the day,” he muttered, unnerved by the primitive sensations that smoldered deep in his heart. “It will take weeks, if not months to gather the various servants involved.”
“So it is done.”