The Silver Coin (The Colby's Coin 2)

Both men started, jerking about to see Breanna standing in the doorway, her face drawn, her eyes filled with pain. “You think he sold those four women?”

“I mink ifs a strong possibility.” Royce walked over, took her hands in his.

“But why? We've determined he doesn't need the money... Don't answer that,” she amended, with a shiver of disgust. “The challenge. Winning. God, this is sickening.”

“But it makes sense,” Hibbert said quietly, glancing at his notes. “As you pointed out, none of the wives had yet borne children—which probably means they were fresher, more youthful-looking, and therefore more desirable to whomever purchased them. None of them had relatives, other than parents who lived far away and represented no threat to the assailant”

“All but Emma Martin.” Royce raked a hand through his hair, another glimmer of insight taking shape. “That miserable bastard not only bested me by killing Glynnis and stealing her daughter, he fur­ t he red his own sick scheme in the process.”

“Emma must have been among his latest ship ­ ment.” Hibbert nodded. “I agree. Which brings to mind another fact. All the women lived in L ondon , which made them easily transportable to the Conti ­ nent. All except Emma. My guess is she was dragged there by the killer, who then sent her off along with Lady Hart.”

“Sent off to whom?” Breanna asked. “Has t hat Rouge person my father dealt with resurfaced? Or is there someone else buying these women?”

“I don't know. But since Emma and Lady Hart were kidnapped two days ago, the shipment that included them had to have left between then and now. We'd better act fast.” Royce was already in motion, crossing the threshold into the hallway. “Wells,” he called, summoning the butler. “Where's Damen?”

“He's upstairs with Miss Stacie,” Wells reported. “I didn't alert them to the fact that Hibbe r t had r e­turned. It's after eleven o’clock and Miss Stacie is ex ­ hausted. I assumed we could disturb them if it became necessary.”

“It just became necessary,” Royce informed him. “Get Damen. Tell him to come down here, and to bring every bit of information he accumulated on that M. Rouge who was buying Medford's cargo.”

Wells blinked. “Js Rouge the killer?”

“No. But he might know him.” Royce turned back to Hibbert. “One of us has to ride to London. I want to check the manifest of every ship that has sailed in the past few days. Perhaps something will strike us as suspicious. Or maybe someone at the docks will even remember Emma Martin or Lady Hart, if we desc r ibe them.”

“Pardon me, Lord Royce, but I have a suggestion.”

Wells had paused on his way to the stairs. “Neither you nor Hibbert has slept in days. What's more, the docks will be practically deserted until daybreak, with no one either knowledgeable enough or sober enough to talk to. My advice is to go to bed directly after your meeting with Lord Sheldrake. That applies to Hibbert, as well. I'll stand guard outside Lady Breanna's room tonight. After a decent night's rest, you can ride to London.”

“Thank you, Wells, but I...” Royce broke off, real­izing how absurd it would sound for him to say he trusted no one other than himself when it came to Breanna's safety.

A look of gentle understanding touched Wells's fea­tures. “I've protected her for twenty-one years, sir. I'm certain I can continue to do so—during those rare times when I'm needed.”

“You'll always be needed, Wells,” Breanna said softly. She gazed reassuringly at Royce. “I'm in excel­lent hands. Do as Wells suggested and get some rest.”

Royce nodded. “All right— after I've spoken with Damen.”

“I’ll get him at once.” Wells hurried up the stairs.

“Breanna,” Royce said, turning his attention back to her. “I know Bow Street questioned your father thor­oughly when they brought him in. Did he tell them anything specific about this French contact of his, this Rouge?”

“No.” Breanna shook her head adamantly. “Just as Father never met the assassin, he never met Rouge. Their only contact was by post. Rouge was very care­ful to keep it that way. Evidently, he's the one who originally sought my father out, not the other way around. The way Father described it. Rouge sent him a letter, said he had a proposition he thought could benefit them both. He was aware of my father's finan­cial woes. He was also aware of the fact that my father would go to any lengths to resolve those woes. Father responded at once, and their alliance began”

“You're sure your father was telling the truth, that he wasn't concealing anything?”

Breanna sighed. “My father is a coward, Royce. If there were any chance of lessening his own punish­ment by blaming someone else, he would jump at the opportunity. So, yes, I'm sure he was telling the truth.”

“Then there's no point in my wasting time at New­gate. As for Rouge's knowledge of your father's des­peration and lack of ethics, he could have picked that up anywhere—at a dub, a tavern, right here in En­gland, or in Paris from a chatty English visitor. There were certainly enough people who knew Medford's ways.” Royce pursed his lips, thinking. “Let me hear what Damen knows. Then, I'll get some of my less reputable contacts involved.”

“Less reputable contacts—you mean, criminals?”

Breanna sounded more intrigued than shocked, re-minding Royce yet again that she was far stronger than her delicacy suggested.

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Yes, but not hardened killers. Just seedy types who have more wits and brains than scruples. They get me information, I pay them well.”

“Snitches, you mean”

“Yes.”

“That makes sense. After all, finding unscrupulous people is what you do.” “Indeed it is. And one thing I've learned is that there's no one better equipped at ferreting out a crimi­nal than another criminal.”