The estimation in Hereford’s face only increased.
Charles stepped to the side and planted himself between Cassie and the thief. “About those authorities….”
Hereford rested his head back against the chair. “Why would you want to call them in? If it comes out that I’ve been stealing, my father will have a coronary and my mother will fall into hysterics. It will all be quite dramatic and piteous and cause an awful lot of bother.”
“So what do you suggest?” Rothchild cocked one hip onto the billiard table and crossed his arms over his chest. “That we send you on your way with a rebuke and elicit a promise to thieve no more?” Amusement laced his words.
“I might be prejudiced in the matter, but yes, that sounds a capital idea.” Hereford pushed to his feet. “Since that’s all settled—”
Montague grabbed the man’s ankle and pulled his foot out from under him, sending him toppling back into his chair. “Sit.” He stood and glared down at the viscount, his order as compelling as that of a master’s to a well-trained dog.
“Have you no shame?” Charles asked.
“None whatsoever.” Hereford laced his fingers behind his head.
Charles drew himself up straight. “Sirs, I ask again, can I go fetch—”
“Thank you for your work tonight.” Montague included Cassie in his words. “But we’ll handle it from here.”
Charles ground his teeth. He nodded tersely, ignored Hereford’s smug expression, and strode to Cassie. He gripped her waist, tried to ignore how she felt beneath his hands, and lifted her to her feet. “Let’s go.”
If he didn’t leave now, he was in danger of speaking inappropriately to his employers. He’d known that rules didn’t apply the same to men of their ilk, but the reminder still stung. No one should be above the law, not even snot-nosed sons of earls. He threw open the door and nodded to Hurst and Verity.
Cassie trotted after him, grabbing his arm. “Let’s slip out the back. There might be questions asked about your face.” She pointed to his sore jaw and his swollen eye.
Certain his employers would appreciate their discretion, he grunted in agreement. Taking her hand, he turned right down the hall instead of left. They made their way to a deserted parlor with French doors that led to the grounds and slipped outside. It was quick work to escape out the garden gate to the front, find the agency’s carriage, and deposit Cassie inside. He followed her up, and pounded on the carriage ceiling with more force than required.
Cassie raised the wick on the coach’s lamp. She sat back and cocked her head. “Shouldn’t you be happy? You’ve solved your case.”
“I’m most happy.” He scowled. Was Hereford even now enjoying a nice bit of brandy as he promised to be a good boy and return the stolen items?
“You have an interesting way of showing it.” She tapped her finger against her lips. “Do you truly think our employers are the type of men to let a crime go unpunished?”
Charles considered. He hadn’t spent much time with the five peers who owned the Bond Agency, but aside from Summerset, the men had seemed serious in both manner and their desire to right wrongs. Even Summerset, for all his disdain and careless vanity, had an aspect of steel in his character.
They weren’t men to trifle with, that was for certain.
“It isn’t my place to question my employers,” he said.
Cassie dipped her chin and gave him a look.
He heaved a sigh. “Without bringing in a magistrate, he will not face justice.” Anything his employers did to Hereford would pale in comparison to what the man deserved.
She looked out the window at the darkened street. “Justice doesn’t have to come in a court. Why cannot the people who have been harmed deliver it themselves?”
He frowned. “Justice delivered without the sanction of law is only revenge. It is primitive. Barbarous. And corrupts the individual as well as the society that allows it.”
“So if Montague wore robes, gave his sentence while wearing a wig, then his actions would be acceptable?” She shook her head. “If the outcome is the same, what does it matter if it was sanctioned by law or not?”
He leaned forwards, resting his elbows on his knees. “If we were to pay personal retribution to everyone who harmed us, how quickly society would devolve into chaos.” His gaze followed the slow roll of her throat as she swallowed. How had he never noticed how gracefully her neck arched? How luminous her skin shown in the moonlight? “Revenge makes monsters of us all.”
Other things made monsters of men, as well. His thoughts towards Cassandra Moore were uncivilized. Animalistic. Damn the wench, but she’d gotten under his skin.
She turned to look at him, her eyes as dark as the sea at night. “Our feelings on this matter are not in accord. I have faith our employers will do the right thing by Lord Hereford. The law cannot handle every situation.”
His mouth went dry as their gazes locked. The interior of the carriage grew warm. He leant back, away from the witch weaving her spell. “Whether I agree or not is immaterial. Montague and the rest of them will do as they want, and my preferences are irrelevant.”
The rest of the ride was taken in silence. He didn’t look at her but was aware of every shift of her body, every cross of her ankle. Perhaps now the case was over Wilberforce would assign Cassie elsewhere. Anywhere would be better for his peace of mind.
