The chamber door slammed shut behind her with foundation-shaking force. Susan didn’t have to try the handle to know she was trapped inside.
She wondered what else was locked inside with her.
Chapter 2
Evan Bothwick swirled his untouched brandy, then tossed the liquid into the fire. He didn’t jump backward as steam and sparks shot from the flames, giving the smoke a slightly sweeter air. For a moment, something akin to rancid fruit overpowered the more pungent peat. Neither odor, however, was what soured his stomach.
Empty glass dangling from his fingers, he faced his companion.
“I must know the truth.”
Ollie’s oversized frame hulked before the bar. “I don’t know a damn thing. She’s some London deb, here to repent for the wickedness of her ways.”
“Not about your houseguest, brute.” In frustration, Evan hurled his empty tumbler into the fire. The glass shattered on impact, but the smell of the smoke did not change. “I’m scarce interested in the blasted woman slamming doors abovestairs.”
“Humph. You’re always interested in women.” Ollie poured a fresh glass of brandy and proffered it in one large paw.
Evan made a shooing motion to decline the offer, then watched in silent horror as his host downed the entirety in one swallow, like a shot of cheap whiskey. “I’m interested in wenches, not women, Ollie. Wenches are... perfect. Much easier to deal with.”
Ollie swiped the back of his hand across his beard. “How could what’s-her-name be any easier? She’s right upstairs.”
“She doesn’t know me.” Evan glanced at the fob in his waistcoat pocket. “And I don’t have time to change that.”
Ollie’s too-loud laughter filled the smoky room. “From what they’re saying in town, you had more than enough time to dally with that scrumptious little Miss—”
“Let’s just talk about Timothy, shall we? He and Red were meant to dock this time last week.”
“Red ain’t here, either.”
“That’s mypoint.” Evan leaned back, his shoulder thudding against the mantel. “Timothy was the lead on that mission, and he’s responsible enough to—”
Ollie shrugged. “Smugglers aren’t responsible.”
Evan’s fingers twitched at his side. “Ollie, could you please be serious for a moment? If I had a pistol handy, I’d shoot you just for prevaricating.”
“There you go. Now you’re acting yourself again. Except for the ‘please.’” Ollie turned back to the sideboard. “Sure you don’t fancy another brandy?”
Evan glared at him. “Red’s a useless corkbrain and always has been, but Timothy would’ve sent word if something went wrong.”
“Then nothing went wrong. Just because you’re a few years older doesn’t mean you’ve got to mother the poor bastard. Perhaps the two of you are cut from the same cloth. Could be he’s shacked up with a few bits o’ fluff and is far too busy being naked to bother sending his brother any love notes. He’ll be home when he’s had his fill.”
Evan shook his head. “That doesn’t sound like Timothy at all. He’s irritatingly punctual, and you know it. Time’s running out. Ship has to be seaworthy again by Friday, or heads will roll. Timothy does not need trouble with the captain.”
“They’ll be back.” Ollie sipped his brandy. “Like you said—your brother’s a responsible sort.”
Evan’s eyes narrowed. For a fellow water rat, Ollie was far too cavalier about the disappearance of their ship and fellow crew. “If you know something, tell me. Now.”
Ollie slammed his empty tumbler onto the sideboard. “I know you’re becoming annoying, that’s what I know.”
Their eyes locked for a long moment before Evan growled and turned toward the fire. He wished he’d taken that second brandy after all, just to have something to destroy. Everything was going wrong. “We should’ve all gone together.”
“It was a two-person job.”
“Then I should’ve gone instead of that featherwit Red.”
“I believe Timothy asked you to do just that, but you were occupied with the bit o’ muslin you met on thelastjob.”
“Just for one night.” Evan snatched his greatcoat from the arm of a wingback chair. He couldn’t imagine what had possessed Ollie to wed. Or the type of woman that would want him. Evan himself couldn’t handle the oaf ’s company for long stretches. The little blonde upstairs would soon regret whatever impulse had brought her so far from home… and wearing bejeweled Town finery into a den of smugglers. “That new guest of yours is certainly fancy. I hope she’s under your protection.”
