Sin With a Scoundrel (The Husband Hunters Club 4)

After a late breakfast Richard made his way to see Sir Henry Arlington at Whitehall. He entered the building of the Metropolitan Police, using the back entrance from Great Scotland Yard. His superior had a small office tucked away in a corner of the labyrinthine building where he sat frowning over numerous dispatches and snippets of intelligence received from all over the country. Not unlike a spider at the center of its web.

“Richard. You have something for me?”

“I believe so.” Richard explained about his visit to Gareth. “Lord Horace was there at the right time to have had a hand in the riot in Kent.”

“Interesting. And he had no reason to be journeying to Kent, no estate to visit, no family?”

“Not as far as I know.”

Sir Henry mulled over this latest intelligence.

After a moment Richard went on. “The other man, the one who was traveling with him, I’ve never heard of. He’s a businessman, an importer, who calls himself John Little.”

“And as we know, Lord Horace has some rather shady friends. I will discover as much as I can about this Mr. Little. In the meantime, keep a close watch on your Miss Smythe. She may be our way into Gilfoyle’s inner circle.”

“I’m seeing her today at two o’clock.”

Sir Henry gave him a knowing smile.

“In a purely business capacity,” Richard added stiffly, and wondered why he felt the need to justify himself. His relationship with Miss Smythe, business or otherwise, was none of Sir Henry’s affair. But then again, if they discovered Gilfoyle was the Captain, then perhaps it was.

“My brother’s final mission,” he began.

Sir Henry’s smile vanished. “We’ve spoken of this, Richard, and I’ve told you all I know. Your brother had a bad habit of keeping things to himself. All very well to play it alone, but when he was killed, all his secrets died with him. I know he was on the trail of the Captain because he’d told me so several days before, but he died in Kent, near his home. The Captain might have followed him there, or perhaps it was just a coincidence, and he had nothing to do with his death.”

“But it is likely,” Richard said quietly. “It is more than likely that if Anthony was onto the Captain, then the Captain was onto him. If Anthony knew enough to ensure that the Captain hanged, then that villain would f

eel he had no choice but to silence him.”

Sir Henry nodded, his mouth turned down. “Yes, that is a fair assumption. But it is only an assumption. You need to concentrate on the here and now, Richard. Do your job. Don’t make the same mistake as Anthony and go off on your own tangent. The Guardians are here to help you, don’t shut them out.”

“I don’t intend to,” Richard assured him. And yet, in his heart, he wondered. If he were to discover for certain that Gilfoyle was the Captain, would he really go to the others? Or would he head off alone to take vengeance on the man who’d murdered his brother before he had a chance to set aside their differences and repair their relationship?

Even if it meant his own demise.

On the way back from seeing Sir Henry, he stopped off at Gilfoyle’s town house, strolling past as if he hadn’t a care in the world. It was a wealthy man’s house, ostentatious, with a liveried servant at the door. Why would a man with so much to lose involve himself in sedition and a possible date with a hangman’s noose?

“Miss Tina. You have a visitor.”

Tina stretched and then grimaced as the lingering effects of the champagne shot pain right through her head. She decided that was the first and last time she overindulged like that. How on earth could Horace and Charles do it night after night? Clearly they were both very silly.

“A visitor? What on earth is the time, Maria?”

“It’s after ten, miss. Lady Carol had said to let you sleep, but now there’s a gentleman here to see you, and she wants me to wake you up at once.”

Tina sighed. “A gentleman?” Not Horace then. Had she really expected Horace to come rushing to her side? She admitted that she had hoped he might, despite its being most unlike Horace to be so impulsive. “Who is this gentleman?”

“A Mr. Little, miss.”

Tina forgot about her head and sat up. “Oh no! I did tell him he could call, but I didn’t expect him so soon.”

“Lady Carol and Sir Thomas are entertaining him in the drawing room, but you are to hurry.”

“Help me to get dressed, and I’ll go and rescue them.”

Tina washed, and Maria helped her into a modest day dress.

“I’ve let it down,” she said, with a critical glance. “I don’t think it shows, miss. Anyway Mr. Little won’t be looking at your hem, will he?”