Wick grimaced. Thelastthing he needed right now was for his mama to show up.
“Then I’d better solve the mystery behind the attacks and wed Beatrice before that happens,” he muttered. “If she meets Mama before she has my ring on her finger, she might change her mind about taking me on.”
“How do you plan to proceed with your inquiries?”
“First thing tomorrow, I’m hiring guards for Beatrice.” His tenure in the underworld had made him some useful connections in that regard. “I know a fellow named Wilcox who specializes in that line of work. Then I’ll be meeting with Garrity and Kent to apprise them of the situation. And, hopefully, to gain their assistance in stopping Beatrice’s enemy.”
Richard grunted. Being the protective older brother, he’d never liked Adam Garrity, the former moneylender who’d once held Wick’s vowels. Wick could never persuade his brother that while Garrity was undoubtedly ruthless, a true product of the London underclass, he was also a fair man, one who was true to his word. Not only had he allowed Wick to work off the debt, he’d recognized and encouraged Wick’s potential.
For years, Wick had been Garrity’s right-hand man in the moneylending business, his specialty being loans to theton. When Garrity had gained controlling interest in a failing railway company a few years ago, he’d invited Wick to become a partner. Between the two of them and Harry Kent, they’d turned GLNR into the success it was today.
In short, Wick owed a lot to Garrity. He considered the older man a mentor and a friend.
Insofar as Adam Garrity had friends.
“And you’re certain that Garrity will be keen on helping the woman who’s standing in the way of his railway?” Richard asked, brows raised.
“It’s my railway as well. And Garrity isn’t as bad as you think. He has his good points.”
“You mean his wife,” his brother muttered. “That woman is a saint.”
If Garrity had any soft spot, it was for his wife Gabriella. Gabriella Garrity, in turn, had a soft spot for everyone. She was great friends with Violet and the rest of the Kent family, who’d befriended her during her wallflower days. Years ago, she’d also been the one who’d pleaded on Wick’s behalf, convincing Garrity to give him a chance to work off his debt. If Mrs. Garrity took a liking to Beatrice—and she would, since she liked everyone—she could undoubtedly persuade her husband to offer his assistance.
Wick didn’t think it would come to that. He knew his partner: as hard a man as Garrity was, he, too, had a code of honor. He wanted the land, but he wouldn’t stand for a woman to be terrorized because of it.
“At least you can count on Harry,” Richard said. “He’s an obliging chap. And you’d get Tessa’s assistance as well, which could come in handy.”
Harry’s wife, Tessa, came from one of the ruling families of the London underclass. Her grandfather, Bartholomew Black, was known as the King of the Underworld because of his power and ability to mete justice in places beyond the reach of Peelers and magistrates. In recent years, Tessa had taken over some of his duties, and she had connections in the darkest parts of London.
“Let us reconvene after I speak to Garrity and Kent tomorrow,” Wick said decisively.
“Whatever you need, let me know.” Richard rose, rolling his shoulders. “I’d better head up. Violet will be chomping at the bit to know what we just discussed.”
“Are you going to tell her?”
“Aye, lad.” The wolfish gleam in Richard’s eyes suggested that perhaps he wasn’t the proper, staid brother in all ways. “But I might make her work for it.”
25
“You’rethe one who insisted on coming,” Wick muttered as the carriage rolled to a stop. “Stop fidgeting, things will be fine.”
“I’m not fidgeting,” Beatrice informed him. “I’m merely gathering my things.”
All right, shehadbeen fidgeting with her gloves and reticule, but Wick didn’t have to know that. Earlier, they’d had a disagreement at the breakfast table when he’d told her that he would be asking his partners to assist in finding her foe. She’d told him that she would accompany him since she didn’t want anyone speaking on her behalf. He’d countered that he also had other business to discuss with his colleagues, which was best done in privacy. She’d asked him if he had secrets he was hiding from her…
And on it had went. Until Carlisle had put down his fork with a sigh.
“You two are squabbling worse than the boys. For God’s sake, Wickham, you’re a negotiator, aren’t you?” The viscount had sounded exasperated. “Find a compromise with the lady before you give us all indigestion.”
Which had led to the present plan. Beatrice, Violet, and Carlisle had accompanied Wick to his offices located in the City. Wick was going to introduce Beatrice to his partners, and she planned to make her views very clear to them. Even if they chose to help her, she would not part with her land, not unless some solution could be found that would spare the farms. She trusted Wick, but she did not know the men he worked with and didn’t want them to harbor any misunderstandings.
It was best to begin as she meant to go on, even if it meant sacrificing popularity with Wick’s colleagues. Coming to London had been a huge step for her, and she had her misgivings. For even as her feelings for Wick deepened, she couldn’t shake an accompanying sense of…fear.
Fear that her happiness was transient. Fear that she was opening herself up to pain again. Fear that losing Wick would make all her past losses pale in comparison.
She tried to tell herself the fear was irrational. After all, Wick cared for her and was doing everything in his power to help her, even to the detriment of his own cause. He wasn’t anything like Croydon. Yet in her bones she knew that things, no matter how perfect they seemed in the moment, had a way of falling apart.
Thus, as seductive as it was to find a haven in Wick’s arms and to be welcomed into the fold of his family, she couldn’t lose herself in the relationship. Her independence had saved her the last time; when her world as she knew it had disintegrated, she’d had only herself to count on. And she couldn’t forget that.
