Scandalous Deception (Russian Connection 1)

Chesterfield cleared his throat as the man hurried forward. “Do you have a plan?”

“Boris and I are going to call upon the gentleman.”

“Do you think that is wise, considering that he wants you dead?” the Runner carefully pointed out.

“It certainly is preferable to having him shadow me through London, taking shots whenever it pleases him,” Edmond growled. “Or worse, leading me about by the nose.”

“Understandable. But why not allow me to accompany your servant—”

“No.?

?

“Your Grace, have you forgotten that you were nearly killed only a few nights ago?”

“I will never forget, Chesterfield, that much I can assure you.”

“Then why take such a risk, when I am willing to offer my protection?”

Edmond’s expression hardened. “Because I have duties that demand secrecy.”

“I have assured you of my discretion—”

“You might as well give way, Chesterfield,” Boris interrupted the Runner’s pleading words. “There is no swaying the man, once he has set his mind on a course. No doubt it has something to do with all that blue blood that runs through his veins. It rots his brain.”

Edmond cast his companion a jaundiced glare. “Thank you, Boris.”

The soldier smiled. “Think nothing of it.”

With a shake of his head, Edmond returned his attention to the Runner. “Remain here with your men. I will call if I need you.”

Chesterfield gave in with a small grunt. “Very well.”

Reaching into the pocket of his greatcoat, Edmond pulled out his dueling pistol and gestured to Boris to follow him down the street to the corner. He would approach the hotel from the servants’ entrance.

Boris remained at his side, his gaze darting from side to side.

“Did you discover anything?”

“That I am a fool,” Edmond muttered, coming to an abrupt halt at the sight of the two gentlemen standing at the opening of the alley.

It was too dark to make out the features of the men, but there was no mistaking that the low conversation they were sharing was in Russian.

Edmond flattened himself against the wall of the building, tugging Boris beside him. He was not at all shocked when he recognized the deep voice of Viktor Kazakov.

“You understand my orders?” Viktor was demanding.

“I am not stupid,” his companion rasped. “I am to leave London by dawn and travel straight to Dover where I am to take the first available packet to France. From there I am to make my way to Moscow.”

“Do not return to your rooms here in London and do not speak with anyone,” Viktor commanded in cold tones. “And that includes your mistress.”

The other man made a sound of disgust. “This is foolishness. I tell you that I was not recognized.”

“You said that the servant attempted to approach you. The same servant who tried to follow you after you were stupid enough to take a shot at Huntley on the balcony.”

Boris stiffened next to Edmond. He was too well-trained, however, to jump from the shadows and break Viktor’s neck. Not without a direct order from Edmond.

A tempting thought, but one that would have to wait until Edmond had the information he needed.