Now, as Atticus narrowed his eyes and stayed to the shadows, he kept his focus on the establishment before him, the full moon reflectingoffthe creaky sign that proclaimed the pub’s name.
As heeagerly awaitedthismoment of retribution,he realized that this was the perfect way forLocklynto finallypayfor his formermisdeeds. Not only wouldAtticusbe free ofthepseudonymof the Raven, but justice would prevail. It might not be the outcome that he had been looking for, but being branded a traitor was a fitting end to the life of a murderer, for he had killed Josephine’s husband. The problem was the lack of a witness to the crime. Without it, he had been free to walk around as a free man.
But that would soon change.
Atticus snapped to attention when he saw the light from a single lanternbeing placedin the window,followed by three distinct flashes before it was doused.
“Finally,” Atticusmurmured, eager to see the Raven’s final mission through to its completion. He nodded to the men at his side and they took that as their cue to scatteraroundthe pub, covering allthe exits where Locklyn might flee once he encountered Atticus.
He boldly walked inside the pub, and since it was a small tavern, it didn’t take him long to find Durmor. He was seatedin a chair in the cornerwith an ale in hand and a sly expression fixated on the women serving the guests, as if trying to decide who would be his bed sport for the evening.
Too bad that wouldn’t come to fruition.
He withheld a grin as hewalked forward andsat down directly across from his nemesis.“Evening,Durmor.I wasn’t expecting you untiltomorrow.”
Locklyn’s eyebrows lifted to his forehead, but once the shock of seeing Atticusseated before himhad worn off, he frowned darkly. “What the hell areyoudoing here?”
He shrugged. “I might ask you the same question, but IthinkI already know the answer to that.”
“What are you spouting on about, Clare?” Durmor returned sourly. “I told no one I was coming to Ireland, least of allyou.Now,leaveoff.”He pointed his mug at him, as if to reiterate his point.
“Always soprickly,” Atticus murmured, as he casually scratched the side of his jaw and the whiskers that were starting to darken it. “And yet,Ibet I can guess what brought you to Irish shores.”
“And whatis that?” Locklyn askedwith barely concealed animosity.
“Why, toreunite withFallon, of course.”
Locklynsuddenlywent very still. His eyes narrowed. “And what led you to that conclusion?I never said she was missing.”
Atticusleaned forward and saidunabashedly, and just loud enough that the patrons nearby could hear. “That’s becauseI know it’s all a ploy to keep your little secret from getting out.”
His companion blinked, although his gaze had turned a bit wary.
This is almosttoo easy.“Notonlydo you have a past of ruthless behavior, but to use your poor, unknowing fiancé to act as a front to conceal your identity as thebandit,Raven—” He shook his head. “That seems rather low, even for you.”
Locklyn’s mouthinstantlywent slack and he stiffened. “I amnotinvolved with that scoundrel in any way!I’m loyal to the Crown.”
“Is that so?”Atticusseemed to consider this. Heslowly rose to his feet. “How about you prove me wrongin my theory?Tell me the ship in the harbor isn’t the one you arrived here on, the one bearing the name,Crimson Rose.”
“I don’t have to prove anything toyou,” he spat.
“Very well.” Atticus shrugged. “I’ll just fetch the magistrate to—”
Instantly,Locklyngot to his feet. “Fine. If it will shut you up, I’ll be glad to prove that you’re a liar.”
Atticusmerely waved a hand, allowing him to lead the way, while he fell into his perfectly laid trap. But then,Locklyn Durmor was too filled with his own self-worth to imagine he could be duped byanyone.
With a snarl, Locklyn downed his drink and slammed the mugbackdownon the table. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and glaredhardat Atticusbefore hestalked toward the door,Atticus followed at a more sedate pace, for he knewhis opponentwouldn’t get far.
The momentDurmorwasoutside,Atticusnodded toward one of his crewmen, a former pugilist.Locklyn had no time toeven considerretaliating, forthesailor’s uppercutwasthestuff of legend. As Durmor’s unconscious body wasdragged into the alley, he wasgagged and bound and covered with a burlap sackand tossed into a wagonwhere Atticus calmlyclimbed into the driver’s seat andtook up the reins.
***
Once Mrs. Hinks had filled an old valise with some of her daughter’s former clothes,going so far as to giveFallonawhite nightdress and matching robe, they settled down for some tea and a bit of light conversation in the parlor.They both occupied a set of emerald wingback chairs near the fireplace.The areawassimple,decorated in muted, earthytones, butit wascozy, nonetheless.Fallon knew that if she had enjoyed a similar experience in England,that if her aunt had been anything like Mrs. Hinks,she wouldn’t haveyearnedto leavequiteso badly.
Curious aboutthe other woman’slife, and hoping to keep her mind occupied with something other thanthe troubling thoughts of Martina Durmor, as well as heryearning for Atticus,Fallonsipped from her warm cup and asked, “What made you decide to open a boarding house?”
Suzanne gave a thoughtful sigh and a shrug. “Since Ionlyhad one daughterof my own,and my husband died years ago in the famine, I suppose they filled a void I didn’t know I’d had.”
