Adam had to get to the meetings somehow. If this was a regular visit as the note implied, then there was someone who’d transported his master to that place time and again. Someone who would now take Gabby there—or else.
She marched out of the study to find the groom.
Adam stared at the report on the desk in front of him. Cornish had presented it to him a half hour ago, and as he’d looked at the summary of his failing investments, he’d heard a strange buzzing, like a fly trapped in his ear. The buzzing got louder and louder, as if the invisible insect was trying to burst out of his skull. For a terrifying instant, he’d wondered if he was going mad. Then the noise turned into a megrim, a pulsing vise that gripped his entire head.
He’d dismissed Cornish and washed down a packet of birch bark with a swallow of whisky. As he waited for the pain to subside, he kept looking at the report. Kept turning Cornish’s conclusion over and over in his head.
The banks in question are failing, sir. No question about it. I would recommend that you cut your losses immediately. Indeed, I don’t know why you refused to do so before now…unless it was because of Anthony De Villier.
Anthony De Villier. The throbbing in Adam’s temples increased. There’d been something familiar about the man.
These banks have one thing in common: all have sizeable loans out to De Villier. It’s possible that, like so many others, you were betting that his latest venture will pay off in spades, and these banks will be the beneficiaries. But being a conservative sort myself, I must caution against gambling on speculative interests. Recall the fiasco of the South Sea Bubble. Anthony De Villier may appear to have the Midas touch, but beneath that veneer of gold, there may lay a core of lead.
Anthony De Villier. What was it about him? Why would Adam invest so heavily to support his schemes? By nature, Adam was a man who took calculated risks…not foolish or reckless ones.
On a positive note, it appears that De Villier has been paying off some of his debts recently. In the week that it took me to compile this report, he has discharged his commitments to two of the banks you own.
On a gut level, Adam knew he’d had a reason for extending credit to De Villier, one that didn’t necessarily involve profit. A reason that had to do with De Villier himself. God, he could sense it, like a word on the tip of the tongue, a memory just beyond reach…
The knock at the door made him growl in frustration.
Kerrigan entered, the expression on the guard’s face setting off alarm bells.
“What is it?” Adam demanded.
“A message just arrived for you, sir.” Kerrigan ran a hand over his shaved head; he had the look of a messenger who’s afraid he’s about to get shot. “It’s from Thompson.”
A message from his groom? Adam frowned. “What does he want?”
“Apparently, Mrs. Garrity…er…ordered him to take her to…”
“Spit it out, man,” Adam said impatiently.
“Mrs. Wilde’s Club,” Kerrigan blurted. “She somehow found out about your, er, visits there. She cornered Thompson, insisting that he take her to the club. He wouldn’t have done it, but then she threatened to get a hackney by herself. To go to every bawdy house in the city until she found the right one…”
The room began to spin, overtaken by a vortex of images.
Mrs. Wilde’s Club, a smiling blonde…
Whips, orgies, another blonde dead in a pool of blood.
The banks, the banks, the banks.
Anthony De Villier.
He jolted as the past slammed into him.
As everything came back in a single, blinding burst.
“Er, sir? Are you all right?”
He turned to Kerrigan, once again the man he’d known for years. His loyal retainer.
“I remember,” he said hoarsely. “Everything.”
Kerrigan’s good eye lit with relief. “Bloody hell, sir, that’s the most welcome news—”
“Let’s go.” Adam was already on his feet, striding to the door. “I have to get to my wife.”
