CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Roarke was tired, sweaty, and covered with ash, but at least the blaze had finally been contained after a battle that lasted well over an hour. Holding his hand out to Carter and nodding toward the rest of his male staff gathered around the smoldering remains, he said, “Good job everyone.”
The butler wiped his brow with a handkerchief. “Glad to be of assistance, my lord.” He paused a moment, before asking, “Do you still think it might have been premeditated?”
Roarke held up a smoldering, makeshift torch that still held the faint scent of coal oil. “I’m positive of it,” he said in disgust, before throwing it back down.
With a glance toward the manor, Roarke suddenly had a feeling of disquiet. While nothing untoward had appeared to transpire in his absence, the urge to return and check on Mara and his mother and sister was oddly compelling.
As he started moving in that direction, one of the footmen happened to remark, “One might have thought that investigator would have noticed something out of place, for he was out here just moments before the fire started.”
Roarke’s head whipped around. The sixth sense that had been gnawing at him suddenly grew to a fever pitch. “What did you say?” he commanded.
The servant, put on the spot so abruptly, stammered, “Mr. Davis, m…my…lord. I first noticed him out of the dining room window as we were…cleaning up after the evening meal. I thought maybe he was going for a breath of air, or to have a look about, so I didn’t…think anything about it.” His eyes darted between his master and the butler, his superior.
Roarke forced himself to remain calm when everything in him wanted to rear up and panic. With a deep breath he said, “You were only doing as I’d instructed, Fenton. I’m sure I’m just overreacting…”
Suddenly, the sound of hoof beats pounding down the drive caused Roarke’s head to snap around. He pulled the pistol out of his vest pocket and clenched the cold steel in his fist as the two riders drew near. As they reined in before him and dismounted, Roarke’s jaw went slack. “Andrews? Rockford?” He tucked his gun away. “What thedevil…?”
“Where is Davis?” the lead investigator demanded without preamble.
Every nerve ending in Roarke’s body went on alert. “Inside. Why?”
Mr. Andrews gave a curse. “I don’t have time to explain fully, but believe me when I say we’ve both been betrayed. I notified the local magistrate on my way here, but until reinforcements arrive, it might not be a bad idea for us to formulate our own strategy in the interim.”
Roarke thought for a moment, considering his options, before he turned to Lord Rockford. “Do you remember when we used to play blindman’s buff?”
The earl blinked at first, then slowly grinned as he caught on. “Indeed.”
When Mr. Andrews frowned, clearly at sea, Roarke said, “I’ll leave it up to Rion to explain.” His eyes hardened. “Just follow my lead.”
With that, he took off for the manor house, his steps quickening with every stride until he broke out in a full run.
* * *
“Why are you doing this?” Mara asked boldly, even though she was tied up next to Lyra and her mother on the settee in the front parlor. Mr. Davis, in turn, stood watch at the window, all the while keeping the pistol pointed at them.
He shrugged. “For the money, of course. Isn’t that always the reason?”
“Do you really believe that Mr. Larkin will give you a ha’penny once he’s done using you?” Mara sneered. She thought she saw a flicker of doubt in his gaze before his eyes narrowed menacingly.
“He won’t dare to double cross me if he knows what’s good for him. Besides,” he gave a nasty grin. “I helped him gain the perfect inducement for negotiating with Lord Eversleigh.”
“You’re a fool!” Lady Eversleigh spat. “Your accomplice probably won’t even show up.”
The Runner’s eyes glittered. “Oh, he’ll be here soon enough, so if I were you, I’d keep my opinions to myself before I develop a nervous twitch on this trigger.” His gaze shifted. “Ah, right on time…”
Mara turned her head and once again, was faced with the coldly, calculating smile of the fer-de-lance.
“Well done, Mr. Davis, although I believe the lady is right and I can take it from here.”
A single shot ripped through the air, and the women screamed as Davis clutched at his chest where a large, red stain was spreading ominously. His face turning pale, he collapsed to the floor, his gun skidding across the wood. Mara noticed that it stopped only a few feet from where she sat.
If she could just loosen the ropes about her wrists…
“You killed him!” Lady Eversleigh cried.
Mr. Larkin snorted. “It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve put some miserable vermin out of his misery.” He strode forward as calmly as if he’d been invited to tea, and took a seat near the mantle. He crossed one leg over the other and casually held his own pistol, regarding each of the ladies in turn before finally settling on Mara.
