The Silver Coin (The Colby's Coin 2)

It was times like this when he realized just how much he needed her. He rarely let himself ponder that fact. It only served to remind him that she was his weakness—his only weakness. But he knew in his gut that's precisely what she was. What's more, she knew it, too.

She was far too smart to betray him. However, she was also far too smart not to per­ceive—and to use—her power over him. And oh what power it was.

He'd been vibrating with fury when he arrived in Paris. He'd been that way from the moment he saw

Chadwick's carriage leave Medford Manor—without Hibbert in it. Did they take him for a fool? They now knew otherwise. He'd beaten them at their own game.

Winning hadn't helped. He'd still felt that burning emotion churning in his stomach, pounding through his veins. Neither the murder at Pearson Manor nor the kidnapping of Emma Martin and Lady Hart had appeased it. He'd sailed from London immediately and, upon reaching Calais, he'd ridden for Paris like a wildman, his two pieces of cargo in tow.

It was only now, after hours in Maurelle's bed, that he felt the anger recede, the tension seeping from his body like the blood would soon seep from Lady Bre­anna's.

No one, nothing, did that for him but Maurelle.

He could hardly wait to have her forever.

Idly, he wondered how long it would take Chad­wick to figure out the identical methods he'd used to kill all his victims. Probably not long. The bullet wounds were in the exact same spot on each body. One bullet. One clean shot, directly to the heart.

He never needed more than that.

Chadwick would become a permanent fixture at Bow Street, urging them to listen to his theory. They wouldn't, of course, not right away. Breanna Colby's hardships were not their problem, nor was the death of Glynnis Martin who, in their estimation, was noth­ing more than a servant. Their attention would be fo­cused on investigating Hart's missing wife, tying together the four murders that mattered.

Pleading his case would keep Chadwick busy.

He'd have to stay in London, a substantial distance from Medford Manor.

Leaving only Hibbert to contend with.

The thought brought a tight smile to his lips. The old man didn't stand a chance of stopping him. Nei­ther did that aged butler Wells. The same for Shel­drake. The marquess was a gifted banker, but an inept opponent.

Within the week, Sheldrake's wife and unborn child would be dead. And then... Lady Breanna.

Ah, that reminded him. He had a purchase to make while he was in Paris. Maurelle would do the honors. After which, the gift would accompany him back to England.

Where it would be delivered to Breanna Colby's door.

Something was nagging at Royce.

Sitting outside Breanna's door, he shifted his weight, stretched his legs out in front of him and re­settled himself in the chair. Intently, he stared at his journal, poring over the details about the killer he'd listed.

Some of those notes applied to the assassin who'd killed four noblemen. Some applied to the assassin who intended to kill Breanna.

Being that those men were one and the same, there had to be a link.

But what?

He was convinced the killer had been a guest at Breanna's party.

That certainty had come after repeatedly reviewing the names of the workmen and delivery companies that Wells had provided, then speaking with Ma­honey and each of the guards—and eliminating them all as suspects.

So the guest list was the key. Royce scanned it again, wishing some name would jump out at him as the logical choice. It didn't.

He leaned his head back against the wall, temporar­ily abandoning his notes to contemplate what he knew about the assassin.

He was educated. He was well-bred, a member of either the gentry or the ton.

Which meant that financial status factored heavily into his life. And that meant that, if his own financial status were threatened, and he could somehow gain access to all the victims' funds, it might provide a mo­tive for murder.

That avenue, Royce had already explored. Far­fetched or not, he'd pursued it throughout a good portion of the evening. He realized the question of access to the victims' funds would have to wait until Hibbert returned with whatever information he uncovered. But, in the interim, Royce had set out to learn who might be experiencing financial trouble.