Walstead dragged his finger over the windowsill and then looked at his fingertip to examine the dust. “He said he would pay those poor fools who work for him at the mill to go to Plymouthto get his rather large shipment when it arrived from Spain. But he never had any intention of paying them, so he hired me and a few of my best men to steal his goods and return them to him in secret. Since the goods were stolen, he did not have to pay the mill workers for transporting the goods since they did not complete the job and deliver the cargo. Clever, eh? But you see, he then put me off and refused to pay me for not only that job but several others we completed for him around the same time.” He clicked his tongue. “Andthatis never a good idea.”
“If that is the case, then take it up with the solicitor,” she challenged with a tone much more confident than she felt.
“That’s where you’re wrong, my dear Mrs.Prior. Remember how I told you he’d made unscrupulous investments? His estate is bankrupt. I doubt even Silas Prior will be able to save it. But your husband did have one thing in his possession that was very precious indeed—the King’s Prize. And I know because I witnessed it being confiscated from the mill workers. Mill workers, you see, are no match for my men. But oh, what a tangled web. But Roland surprised me—I never would have guessed he hid it in his mousy wife’s belongings. Very clever. Very clever indeed.”
“You are despicable,” she sneered.
“I’ve long suspected that you played a part in all this, and you, my dear Mrs.Prior, have been a thorn in my side. What am I to do with you?”
She stared at him. He exuded frightening confidence—and it struck her to her core.
“You will give me the emeralds now.” He stepped closer. “And if you comply, I might just let your son live.”
He retrieved a pistol from his coat and pointed it at Charlotte. He cocked it.
The air vacated Charlotte’s lungs. The sight of the pistol incited a fear that flew in the face of the hope the day had otherwise brought.
She sputtered, searching for protest, when another voice behind her spoke. Smoothly. Confidently. “She doesn’t have the emeralds. I do. So if you want them, you will have to speak with me.”
Chapter42
Anthony matched Walstead’s hard glare with his own.
Never did he think he would be on this side of Walstead—opposing him instead of working with him. But he’d left Anthony with no choice. Anthony was acutely aware of his pistol in his waistband. But he would not make a move for it until he was certain he had the upper hand.
For Walstead was pointing his weapon at Charlotte.
“I said she doesn’t have the emeralds,” Anthony repeated.
“Ah, there we are!” Walstead threw his hand up in mock celebration. “Welbourne. I have to say, you surprised me as well. I never would have pegged you for such a romantic soul. Who would have thought that a stoic man such as yourself would have a softness for a woman? I’m not often surprised. Nor am I often deceived. But you did both. As I was just telling Mrs.Prior, I abhor deception.”
Anthony was determined to keep Walstead’s focus on him and not Charlotte. “Release her.”
Walstead laughed. “So gallant! But don’t forget who I am. Iknow how skilled you are at this sort of negotiation. But we both also know something else—I am better.”
Sudden movement in the courtyard sounded, and a horseman and a carriage rumbled up. Anthony’s stomach tightened. Ames’s profile flashed next to the driver, along with other men he did not recognize.
He thought that Ames went to get Walstead—but why was Walstead already here?
In an instant Walstead’s expression hardened. He stepped to the window and looked out. His brows drew together, and he cursed under his breath. He extended his palm. “Toss them here. Now!”
Sensing an opportunity during Walstead’s break in concentration, not to mention the fault in Walstead’s request, Anthony reached into his coat as bid. But he did not retrieve the emeralds. Instead, he snatched his pistol from his waist.
Walstead reacted and lunged forward, grabbed Charlotte, and pulled her tight against his chest, blocking any shot Anthony might have. And then Walstead pointed his pistol straight at Anthony.
***
Charlotte stood frozen, her gaze locked on Mr.Walstead’s pistol, her wet boots fixed to the flagstone floor.
His fingers dug, sharp and hard, into her arm through her soaked wool pelisse.
Every heartbeat pulsed through her ears.
Every breath wheezed with desperation.
She slid her gaze to the commotion in the courtyard that had caught Mr. Walstead’s attention: Mr. Ames and other men. Perhaps watchmen. And if these were watchmen, she had no way of knowing whether they would assist Anthony and her or would support Mr. Walstead.
He spewed out another slew of curses, the first sign of a break in his haughty composure, and Charlotte’s heart leapt. He pulled her back to him even tighter, his scent of horses and brandy overwhelming her.
