“You see? I tried to do it the proper way. But no one was available to accompany me.”
“Then you shouldn’t have gone,” Nathaniel replied, leaning forward in his chair and glaring at her.
“And waste this opportunity?”
“To hell with the opportunity, Alice! You almost lost your life tonight. Nothing is worth that.”
“Nathaniel is right, Alice,” the duke remarked, his voice stern. “You acted recklessly. You know the rule about not going alone. Ever.”
“But—”
“No buts. The rules exist for a reason.”
Her lips compressed in a tight line, and her nostrils flared. But under her irritation, there was begrudging acceptance. The scolding was well deserved. She knew she had acted recklessly. At the time, it had seemed like a good idea. But if Nathaniel hadn’t appeared like an avenging angel, emerging from the darkness to shout a warning and fight by her side, the outcome of tonight might have been quite different. No, notmight. Itwouldhave been different. She would have been the one killed or wounded. Or taken prisoner. Of all the possible fates, she feared the latter the worst. They could have tortured, raped her, or even made her disappear before anyone could find her. A shiver ran through her at the thought.
“I might have gotten a bit carried away,” she admitted reluctantly. “But I feel this case has been stuck ever sinceMrs. Phipps died. Can you fault me for getting excited at the possibility of discovering a new lead?”
It wasn’t quite an apology, but it was the best they were going to get out of her. It’s not as if they had been available to help her.
Dalton sighed, but Nathaniel didn’t look the slightest bit mollified by her explanation. He still looked daggers at her.
“Did you learn anything important at least?” Dalton asked.
She lowered her gaze. “Not much. My presence was discovered almost as soon as I arrived. I recognized one of the men as Dimitri, the Russian liaison from the embassy. He was meeting with an Englishman. But I only saw the shadowed silhouette of that gentleman. Enough to get an idea of his size and build, but not enough to identify him.” She turned to Nathaniel. “Did you get a better look at the Englishman?”
“No,” Nathaniel bit out, frustration radiating from his body. “He was in the shadows most of the time, and even when I gave chase, he eluded me. I think I would be able to recognize his voice if I heard it again. There was something familiar about it, even though I couldn’t identify it.”
“Maybe we’ll be able to learn more from the men you captured. Although I wouldn’t expect much. They are probably low-level guards.”
“Shall we interrogate them now?” Alice asked.
Dalton rose from behind his desk and led the way as they filed out of the office. “Follow me,” he said, gesturing toward the corridor that led to the back of the house. He opened a door concealed in the paneling, and they descended a narrow stone staircase. The air grew cooler with each step.
“How very medieval of you, Dalton,” Nathaniel drawled as they followed him down another corridor in the basement level. “I would have expected a dungeon in your castle, a leftover from less civilized times. But this is your London house, not old enough to have a dungeon.”
“If you think these times are more civilized than the olden days, then you are naïve,” Dalton replied.
Nathaniel snorted. “Hardly. But I know we don’t just throw prisoners in our own personal dungeon, no matter how much we might feel tempted to do just that from time to time.”
“Would you stop calling it a dungeon? It’s a holding cell. I hardly ever use it. But it’s convenient in cases such as this. Tomorrow, I’ll transfer them to the government facilities.”
At the end of the tunnel, a stout oak door secured the entrance to the outbuilding basement. On the other side was the dimly lit cell in which the night’s prisoners awaited.
The two men were sitting on a straw mattress against the back wall, but hardly together. The broad-shouldered Russian’s impassive face gave away nothing. He stared at the floor, not acknowledging their entrance with even a flicker of his eyelashes, his expression as closed as a bank vault. The other, in contrast, looked English. A rough-faced fellow with a crooked nose and the wary eyes of a man accustomed to dark alleys. Wiry and thin, his gaze shifted keenly between them. Alice figured, of the two, the English ruffian would be more forthcoming with information.
Dalton stood beside her and Nathaniel, his presence filling the narrow space. Apparently arriving at the same conclusion as she, he ignored the Russian and addressed the English ruffian directly.
“What’s your name?”
The man looked at him defiantly but subsided under Dalton’s hard and commanding stare.
“Them call me Boots,” the man replied reluctantly.
“Boots,” Dalton repeated evenly. “You should know that the meeting you attended tonight concerns treason. Accomplices hang for that.”
“I’ve done nofin wrong. Me and me mates were hired to provide a bit of armed protection for a transaction, is all.”
“Who hired you?” Nathaniel asked.
