"I'd like to see you try," Gavin said, baring his teeth.
"Never mind, Jibotts." Morgan rose to his feet. Turning to the group at the table, he said curtly, "The meeting is adjourned for now. I'll expect the shipping reports on my desk tomorrow morning."
After a chorus ofYes, m'lord, the toadying fools took off.
Old four-eyes, however, hovered protectively at the doorway. "My lord, I can have the magistrate summoned—"
"Leave us, Jibotts," Morgan said. "And close the door behind you."
With one last suspicious glare, the man departed. Morgan picked up the coffeepot and poured himself a cup of steaming brew. He cocked a dark brow.
"I don't want any bloody coffee," Gavin snarled. "Where the hell is Percy?"
"It's none of your damn business, Hunt. I told you to stay away from her." Morgan studied him with cold, grey eyes. "I'm the one who wronged you and if you're willing to discuss restitution—"
"She's in danger, goddamnit." Fear made Gavin's words boom against the walls. He was known to be coolheaded under any circumstances, yet now his thoughts raced. "I've been by her house and got run off by the old hen who runs the place. Bribed one of the neighbor's grooms—he said he saw her carriage leave two hours ago.Tell me where she went."
Morgan stared at him. "What sort of danger are you referring to?"
Gavin raked his hands through his hair. He'd left in such a rush that he'd forgotten his hat. "Cutthroats, Morgan," he grated out. "There's no time to get into it. If you know where she is, we have to find her."
His words seemed to finally galvanize the marquess into action. "They're after her?" he said, grabbing his jacket.
Self-loathing burned in Gavin's chest. "They're after me," he said, "and they have no qualms about using her to get what they want."
"Come with me," Morgan said.
Such was his fear for Percy's life that Gavin did not balk at the autocratic command. They descended the steps of the warehouse, Morgan barking to have the carriage brought round. Matched grays met them at the entrance.
"Home and be quick about it," Morgan told the driver as they boarded the well-sprung vehicle. They'd barely found their seats before the equipage leaped forward.
"Percy is at your home?" Gavin said tersely.
"Mrs. Fines is having tea with my wife this afternoon," Morgan corrected. "I am not certain if Percy planned to come. If she is not there, her mother will know where she went."
Gavin's fists tightened in his lap. He looked out the window. Though the streets blurred past, the carriage could not move fast enough to suit him. Sweat slickened his brow.Goddamnit, if anything happens to her…
"Why are you worried about her, Hunt? I thought she was a pawn in your game," Morgan said. "A means to an end."
"I never said that," Gavin bit out.
"You certainly let her believe it."
Guilt wrenched his gut—if it wasn't already so knotted, he might have felt something. "I should kill you," Gavin snarled. "It would make me feel a damn sight better."
"Perhaps. Before you tear my head off, however, you might like to know that I've put Percy under protection. Wherever she is, Mr. Kent is with her."
Never in his life did Gavin think he'd welcome a Charley's involvement. Some of the tightness in his gut eased, but he muttered, "He better know what he is doing. These aren't petty thieves he's dealing with. These are powerful, ruthless men who'd do anything to keep it that way."
Morgan studied him with an unfathomable gaze. "Tell me who is after Percy—or you, rather."
Gavin weighed his options. Confiding in his nemesis had not figured into his plot for revenge. For Percy's sake, however, he saw no better alternative. "A man named John Magnus. Likely in partnership with another bastard, Warren Kingsley. They're cutthroats who've killed three men already."
"Why?"
Gavin made a scoffing sound. "For power and money, of course. Forgotten what life was like in the rookery, your lordship?"
"I remember," Morgan said, "every bleeding second of it. No title can make a man forget where he came from. I was born in the gutters, no different from you."
