A man owns up to his mistakes.Primus’s voice.You let lust get the better of you, and now you must deal with the consequences.
Numbness spread through Jack. The detachment was as familiar as an old blanket. Wrapping himself in it felt better than the bullies’ fists, Judith’s debased games, Sebastian’s last gurgling breaths. It had even allowed him to endure twelve years of separation from his beloved…but why wasn’t it helping now?
“What I did was wrong,” he said dully.
“Your contrition means nothing,” she said bitterly. “I cannot trust you, Jack. And what you did to Judith, to Sebastian…” Loathing contorted her features. “You disgust me.”
That makes two of us.
“I love you. If you would let me explain…”
He hated the edge of desperation in his voice, but he couldn’t give up. Not when she was the one thing—the only thing—he’d ever wanted for himself. He willed her to understand, to give him a chance…
“Get out,” she said flatly.
“Lottie—”
“You’ve promised me time and again that the best is still to come. But itnever does. It is over between us—this time, for good.”
The finality in her voice gutted him.
“You will leave my home now, and you will not return.” Her eyes gleamed, not with loving wisdom, but with the steely armor of animosity. “For the remainder of this mission, kindly direct all communication through another member of your team. And when this is over, I never wish to see you again.”
Thirty-Five
“You look like hell,” Delaney said.
Laurent gave her a nudge; she nudged him back with enough force to make him grunt.
“What?” she challenged. “That carcass over there looks livelier.”
Jack and his team were at the butcher shop. Mr. Campbell had ushered the four of them into the back room with his usual boisterousness. It was shy of nine in the morning, and Jack hadn’t slept. Since Lottie had kicked him out in the middle of the night, he hadn’t found lodgings yet and was too miserable to look.
It’s over. What I thought was a new beginning was merely the end of a dream I held onto for twelve years too long.
He was who he was. A depraved and selfish bastard who hurt people time and again and deserved what he had coming. He’d done the right thing in leaving Lottie the first time; his mistake was returning. In believing, for even an instant, that he was worthy of her…of happiness. Anguish welled inside him, but numbness came to the rescue again. With practiced ease, he shut out the demons roaring in his head and focused on the mission.
“Niños.” Calderone stepped between Laurent and Delaney. “Must we bicker at this ungodly hour?”
Laurent cleared his throat. “You do look rather worse for the wear, Granger. Too excited to sleep after our successful foray last night?”
“What did you discover?” Delaney demanded.
“Just that the property upon which Brompton’s Works is built was sold to a company called Wilmer Upholsteries.” Laurent buffed his nails against his lapel.
Delaney frowned. “What would an upholstery business want with a match factory?”
“After the Public Records Office, we stopped by Wilmer’s warehouse in Spitalfields to see if we could find out,” Jack replied. “We let ourselves in and found nothing of note, except receipts indicating that they do business with the London Joint Stock Bank on Princes Street. I will go there today and see if I can get information about the account holders associated with Wilmer.”
“I hate bankers. They’re like clams,” Delaney muttered.
“In the interim,” Jack said, “I need one of you to report this new development to my…to Lady Fayne.”
His colleagues exchanged a look.
Laurent spoke first. “Er, did you not inform her when you saw her last night?”
Might as well get this over with.
