“If that is true then Sir Charles appears remarkably healthy.”
Herrick nodded, his expression thoughtful. “So either there have been no deaths or Dimitri has chosen to punish Sir Charles by a means that did not include the usual torture.”
“What do you mean?”
“The Englishman appears to possess enough wealth to live in comfort.”
“True.” It took a moment for Gregor to follow the direction of Herrick’s thoughts. “Ah. You believe that Dimitri is demanding money?”
“I would.”
Gregor’s gaze snapped back to the brothel as the door was pushed open and a satisfied customer tripped down the stairs.
“A nasty situation, but surely a problem for another day?” he demanded once he had assured himself the gentleman was not Nikolas Babevich.
“Unless he is somehow connected with our current problem.”
“You think…” Gregor gave a sharp shake of his head. “No, I have been standing here since Babevich went into Madam Ivanna’s. Richards did not come in or out while Babevich has been inside. They could not have been meeting.”
“Ah, but you were watching the front entrance, not the hidden corridor that leads from the brothel to the coffee shop,” Herrick drawled.
“Hidden corridor?”
Herrick smiled. “Even the most powerful gentlemen enjoy the services that Madam Ivanna provides. They simply prefer their visits to be discreet.”
Gregor arched a brow. “So how do you know of the corridor?”
“There is very little that escapes my notice.”
“A knowledge that has kept me from making any number of foolish mistakes,” Gregor said dryly. “Do you truly believe that Sir C
harles is here to meet with Babevich?”
“After weeks of following the fool with nothing to show for my efforts but sore feet, I no longer know what I believe.” Herrick heaved a frustrated sigh. “Still, there can be no harm in paying a visit to Sir Charles in the next few days. If nothing else it will allow me to judge whether or not he is intelligent and ruthless enough to conceive a scheme to blackmail the Countess.” Reaching out, Herrick laid a hand on his companion’s shoulder. “Go home, Gregor. I will keep watch on Nikolas Babevich.”
Surrey, England
AFTER YET ANOTHER FUTILE search through the library, the back parlor and the billiards room of Meadowland, Leonida retreated to the garden to enjoy the sun that had broken through the morning fog.
Perching on a marble bench in the center of the rose garden, Leonida lifted her face toward the sky and attempted to ease the tension that gripped her body.
A part of her comprehended that she was wasting precious time. For once Stefan had left just after breakfast to meet with his solicitor in the village and Brianna had taken a carriage to oversee the workers at Hillside.
She was alone except for the servants. A perfect opportunity.
Leonida, however, was weary of her self-imposed task.
She hated deceiving Brianna, who had been nothing but kind and warmly welcoming to her. She hated sneaking about the beautiful estate as if she were a common thief.
And most of all, she hated the situation that made the Duke of Huntley her irrevocable enemy.
If only…
She angrily broke off the futile longing.
What was the point? No matter what her fascination with Stefan, her duty and loyalty lay with her mother.
And Russia.