CHAPTER 22
Fairbridge extractedhimself from a conversation with a French shipping magnate and made his way over, Solomon trailing close.
“We need to investigate the basement,” Evander said without preamble. “Shaw found evidence ofNoctis Bloomnear a guarded door.”
Fairbridge’s expression hardened. “That’s a foolish idea, your Grace. We established that the purpose of tonight’s outing is to gather information only.”
“This is gathering information,” Evander countered.
“I’m going with him,” Viggo grunted.
Fairbridge’s mouth flattened to a thin line, his cold gaze switching between the pair of them.
“Since it seems I won’t be able to dissuade either of you, the rest of us shall do our best to keep Brassard and his associates distracted. But if you put yourselves in danger?—”
The unspoken warning hung in the air between them.
Evander knew Fairbridge was threatening to report him to the Ministry of Arcane Affairs and General Hartwick if his or Viggo’s actions jeopardised their mission objectives.
“We will handle things discreetly,” Evander reassured.
A muscle worked in Fairbridge’s jawline. He eventually relented, though not without a final parting shot.
“Don’t do anything that will expose us.”
Evander looked across the ballroom to Ginny. She met his gaze a moment later. He subtly rubbed his nose with a knuckle.
Ginny bobbed her head imperceptibly and turned to Brassard. She whispered something to the viscount. The man smiled and signalled to the musicians to pause.
Brassard’s voice rang across the ballroom in the lull in the music.
“A toast! To tonight’s successful soirée and to the most lovely of companions.” He kissed Ginny’s hand with obsequious attention before lifting his glass.
Evander and Viggo slipped away whilst the guests cheered and raised their glasses.
It didn’t take them long to find the servants’ corridor.
Narrow and poorly lit, it was a stark contrast to the opulence of the public rooms of the mansion. Evander registered the faint smell ofNoctis BloomShaw had detectedas they approached a bend. They turned the corner and came in sight of the far end of the passage.
A heavy oak door stood flanked by two men in dark coats who were most definitely not household servants.
Evander’s pulse quickened, magic seeping into his veins.
“I’ll take the one on the left,” he told Viggo in a low voice as they headed down the corridor.
The Brute nodded.
The two men straightened at their sight, their hands moving subtly toward concealed weapons.
“Wrong turn, sirs,” one of them said gruffly in French. “The facilities are back the way you came.”
Evander smiled pleasantly. “I don’t think so.”
He moved before either guard could react, his wind magic slamming into the man on the left and sending him crashing into the wall. Viggo was already on the second, one massive hand closing around the man’s throat before he could cry out and the other disposing of the pistol that had appeared in his hand.
The Brute rendered the two guards unconscious with efficient brutality.
They dragged the limp figures into the linen cupboard they’d passed and gagged and secured their limbs with strips torn from some sheets before returning to the door.
