“Fooled by a few schoolteachers, eh?”
“Apparently so.” Hunt wasn’t at all surprised that the duke had kept track of his affairs. Likely, he’d been aware of the deception before Hunt had been.
“If you allow me three more months, I won’t make the same mistake again.”
But Malum was shaking his head. “I’ve allowed too much time to pass already.” He leveled his gaze on Hunt. “I own seven establishments such as this.” He lifted a hand to gesture toward the door. “One hundred and thirteen ladies fall under my protection, not including domestic help. In return for their loyalty, I promise them my protection.”
Hunt knew where this was going and braced himself.
“When Madam Chouinard found Tatiana in that room, bloodied and beaten. Suffocated under your father’s bloated carcass, that protection came into question.”
Although he’d heard this before, Hunt’s stomach churned as Malum recounted his father’s crime.
“The manager who approved your father’s membership was… terminated within the hour, as were the men on security detail that day.”
Malum flicked an invisible speck of dust from the lapel of his jacket. “If your father lived, he, of course, would have been made to suffer for his crime. He stole from me, Lord Hardwood. In more ways than one. And, unfortunately, by dying, he’s left his account unpaid. I ask you, what sort of message would I be sending to those loyal to me if I allowed it to remain in arrears?”
“A fickle one, I imagine,” Hunt answered. He’d expected this and yet experienced one last disappointment.
There would be no extension.
The duke cocked a brow. “So you understand my position.”
“Yes.” Left unpunished, loyalty would erode. Even worse, it would leave the door open for possible future offenders. God help him. In theory, Hunt couldn’t help but agree.
Hunt needed, however, to establish the possibility that this could be settled sometime in the future. “The money will be available sometime this year.”
Malum’s gaze was steady. “I’ll allow that payment might eventually be forthcoming, with interest, of course, but in the interim, I’ve no choice but to make an… example of you.” He reached for a bellpull. “I’ll trust you’ve put your affairs in order?”
Hunt’s throat thickened, so he only nodded.
In less than a few seconds, Flint and another of the duke’s men stepped inside.
“They are waiting for you,” Malum said, his attention turning to the papers on his desk. And with one last glance, he added, “God speed.”
Family
As Sky Manor came into view, Priscilla clutched the strap over the carriage’s window.
The coast was different on this side of England than at Cliffhouse. The same hint of salt and sea hovered in the air, but these coastal cliffs towered over the beach for miles, and the rocks were more colorful—the sky whiter.
Priscilla rubbed her eyes, gritty from lack of sleep, and blinked. If this week hadn’t broken her, nothing could.
She felt exhausted but couldn’t sleep; her neck was stiff, and her bones ached from what felt like endless travel. First, she and Chloe had suffered through the ride from Cliffhouse back to the school, and now, Coachman John was driving her home.
Alone this time.
Fiddlesticks nudged her thigh, reminding her that she was not completely alone.
“At least I have you, Little Fiddle.” Priscilla removed her glove and stroked the top of Fiddle’s head.
When Allison had learned Priscilla was leaving the school, she’d asked her if she’d like to take her dog with her. “I don’t know what my mother was thinking, buying him for me. Doesn’t she realize what school is like?” Allison had complained. “All the while you were gone, that little pest was either making messes or waking me up in the middle of the night….”
Priscilla hadn’t even had to think about it.
Perhaps she’d visit the school sometime in the future. After everything settled down. A good deal had transpired before she and Chloe had even arrived.
Mr. Meadowbrook had arrived hours before them. Priscilla had not even been aware that he’d departed from Cliffhouse, but with faster horses and his modern coach, his journey had been considerably shorter than theirs.
