Jamie’s jaw clenched. He didn’t want to tell Nick anything. The idea of giving up Hortense’s secrets without her permission left a sour taste in his mouth. Yet Nick had been rousted from his bed and come this far without question. Jamie owed his brother an explanation. “Hortense,” he bit out.
Nick went alert. “Is she in danger?”
“Not that I’m aware.”
“Then?”
“Doyle.”
“Flick Doyle? Her old master? This is his place?”
“Aye.” The air went heavy with expectation. Nick wanted more information, and Jamie supposed he deserved it. “I think she’s back with him.”
Nick snorted. “She’s too smart for that.”
“Not if he’s holding something over her.”
“What can that two-bit scoundrel possibly have over Hortense?”
“That’s what I intend to find out,” Jamie ground out.
The door cracked open, and a slight form slipped outside.Hortense.Again, Nick grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Not now,” he murmured. “Doyle, remember?”
Jamie gave a sharp nod as he watched Hortense glance about her without detecting him and Nick, then melt into the night. Every cell in his body clamored to follow her.
Instead, his feet beat a path to Doyle’s door, Nick at his heels. Jamie rapped out Hortense’s special knock. The door creaked on rusty hinges, and an eye appeared through the crack. The eye widened. Before the boy could slam the door in his face, Jamie shoved his foot into the crack. “I suggest standing aside as we have no quarrel with you,” he said. “But we are coming in.”
The door went slack. Jamie and Nick pushed inside, Jamie leading the way through the warren of corridors and stairs that led to the underground room, where the old rogue sat at his usual place at the table strewn with yesterday’s take. He sat back in his chair, adjusted his wire-rimmed spectacles, and took in his visitors. “A little late—or is that early?—fer a social visit, wouldn’t ye say?”
Jamie wouldn’t play Doyle’s games. “What are you holding over her?”
“Her?” Doyle’s snake smile had fallen into place, the one that said he held all the cards. He would soon see that wasn’t the case. “Ye be speakin’ of Hortense, I presume?”
“Answer the question.”
“Ain’t ye curious what I have her doin’ fer me?”
Jamie saw what Doyle was trying to do. Sow seeds of doubt in his mind. “I don’t need to know.”
Doyle wagged a finger at him. “Ah, but yer eyes be tellin’ a different tale. Collects baubles fer me. Pays her taxes like a good eel.”
Once a eel, always a eel.
Doyle’s statement was only confirmation.
“What are you holding over her?” Jamie was convinced now more than ever. “It’s the last time I’ll ask.”
“Or what?” Doyle guffawed. “Want some advice?”
“From you?”
“Leave Hortense with me. Her talents be wasted with the likes of ye nobs. That gel could rule over London, that’s what I intend to teach her.”
The time for argument was over. Doyle had missed his chance. Jamie turned to Nick. “Is your brother by law still involved in shipping?”
“St. Alban? Aye.”
That got Doyle’s attention, for he sat upright, clearly having noticed the look that had entered Nick’s eyes. Ruthless and fixed and utterly ready to do what it took. The man had been a spymaster for over a decade, and it was easy to see how.
