Velvet Embrace

Jason's expression grew grim as he listened to the tale. "It's unfortunate that Boulter is dead," he said at the conclusion. "Did you get any information from him?"

"Only that he and his brother were hired to kill me. My guess is that when Germain failed, they followed me from London."

"And do you still think it has something to do with your activities during the war?"

Dominic nodded slowly. "That's the only explanation I can think of. But why go to so much trouble to make it look like an accident? No doubt Boulter had several opportunities to put a bullet through me. And Germain's challenge was contrived to look natural enough."

"Perhaps they didn't want an investigation if you were killed."

"Or perhaps the deed to the land in France is what stopped them. They can only get the deed from me. It must be important to whoever hired them."

The two men were silent for a time, each thinking his own thoughts. Finally Dominic grinned. "Are you certain you want me to stand as godfather to your daughter?"

Jason's blue eyes danced with humor as he rose to take his leave. "You wouldn't dare think of backing out now, would you? Lauren would never forgive you—or me either, for that matter. We've set the christening date for Saturday next. Surely you can stay alive long enough to attend."

"I'll manage somehow."

"From that look on your face, I'd say Germain may not be so fortunate. I wouldn't care to be in his shoes tomorrow. Although I must admit I am looking forward to seeing what methods you employ to loosen his tongue."

Dominic's mouth twisted sardonically. "Haven't you guessed? I shall simply lock him in a room with you while you expound on the joys of fatherhood. In less than an hour, Germain will be begging for mercy. Nine o'clock tomorrow, then?"

Dominic rose early the next morning and ordered his curricle brought around. When he arrived at Lord Manning's office in Whitehall, he was shown into a tiny room where an elderly clerk greeted him.

"I regret that his lordship is not here at present," the clerk said, rising from behind his desk, "but I have been instructed to aid you. Please be seated. Now where did I put the file? Ah, here it is," he muttered, shuffling through his stack of papers. "Strange case, strange case."

When at last he turned, he found Dominic watching him impatiently. Unnerved by the cool intensity of his visitor's gaze, the clerk cleared his throat. "I have an assistant, my lord, who spends a good deal of time in the local taverns where he gleans bits of information here and there. A few weeks ago he came to me with an interesting story which, only recently, I decided might have some bearing on this case. My man overheard—well, perhaps it would be better if he told you himself. If you could wait one moment please."

He left the office and returned a short time later, followed by a rough-looking character whom he introduced merely as Tom. "Tom, tell Lord Stanton, if you please, what you learned at the Boarshead tavern."

Tom took a moment to look over the dark-haired lord, then broke out in a grin, showing a gaping hole where his front teeth had been. "So yer the one they was after. It ain't no wonder then." His grin disappeared when Dominic's eyes narrowed.

"Well, you see," Tom hastened to explain, "I was at the Boarshead when this cove comes in an' starts drinkin'. 'Ee was drownin' 'is sorrows, like. I didn't give 'im much mind first off, till 'ee starts to say something about them Frenchies. So I starts to listen."

"This 'cove'," Dominic interjected. "Was he named Boulter, by any chance?"

"Yeh, Freddie Boulter. 'Ow'd you know?" When there was no reply, Tom decided it best to get on with his story. "Well, Boulter was drunk as a fiddler an' 'ee didn't make much sense. Seems there was a swell what was to do for you, but 'ee got done for 'imself. So Boulter was cryin' about 'avin' to go off an' finish the job." Tom gave Dominic another gap-toothed grin. '"Ee didn't finish it, did 'ee?"

"Boulter is dead."

It was said so calmly that Tom shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Well, I don't s'pect anyone will miss the likes of 'im."

"What about the reference to France?" Dominic asked.

"Yeh, well, the nob what 'ired Boulter and the swell, 'ee came from France. But I don't think 'ee was a Frog. 'Ee was Hinglish, with a title. Didn't catch it, though. Boulter said the nob was touched in the upper works."

"Do you suppose this 'nob' is still in England?"

"No, 'ee ain't, if 'ee ever came in the first place. You see, Boulter only got part of the brass till the job was done. 'Ee was wonderin' 'ow 'ee was to get the rest, with the nob across the Channel and the swell havin' disappeared, like."

"I will need an address, a location in France. Could you get it for me?"

Tom grinned again. "Boulter won't be needin' it, will 'ee? I'm yer man, gov'nor . . . er . . . milord."

Dominic tossed him a coin. "Watch out for Boulter's brother while you're at it. Martin, I think is his name. I understand he enjoys making people scream." Rising then, Dominic directed the clerk to send any new information to his town address and left the office.

Tom remained where he was, stroking the dark stubble on his chin. "Cor," he said to no one in particular. "Good thing that nob from France didn't 'ire me to do 'is dirty work. I don't think I'd be standin' 'ere now."

When Dominic brought his horses to a halt before the Effing residence, Jason was waiting. He grinned as he climbed into the curricle. "Wouldn't do to let Lauren see you. Not unless you want to spend the next hour admiring our daughter."