“I need help.”
“Don’t we all.” He tossed the card onto the cluttered desktop and negligently began coiling the wire again, his eyes sharp. “Why come to me?”
“I was told you helped those in need.” She called on everything inside of her to keep the desperation from showing.
“How interesting.”
Her throat tightened. “Was Mr. Rockwood mistaken? Have I wasted precious time in coming to you?” Dashed, just like that. The sliver of hope dimmed. Foolish of her to think otherwise—hope had long since abandoned her.
Yet she raised her head higher, determination outstripping reason. A stubborn mouse on a desperate quest. And like a bird of prey, he watched her. He hadn’tstoppedhis predatory assessment since he’d opened the door. It was unnerving in more ways than one, and if she weren’t so mulish, she might have succumbed to the sharpness there, the hit to her pride.
His head tipped. “Surely Rockwood explained how I work. I rarely accept charity cases from members of the ton.”
His tone was mild, almost curiously still, even with the thread of arrogance running beneath. She grasped the edges of her dignity. “He said your services cost ten thousand pounds.”
“They do.”
“Or…” She swallowed. Here was where the danger lay. “Or three favors.”
He kept coiling the wire. “And did he explain what type of favors I might ask?”
“No,” she whispered.
A dark grin flashed across his face. “Good on Rockwood.”
She remembered the vaguely terrified expression on Rockwood’s face as he’d talked about Gabriel Noble.The man makes dukes tremble,Marietta,be careful. If there had been another way…
She looked at the man dominating the space across from her. Arrogant and cold. If there was another way…but there wasn’t. She was penniless. The law against her. Ostracized. Rockwood had taken pity on her, mainly due to the longstanding ties between their families.
Gabriel Noble…he was going to make her toil for every last bit of his help. He would break her remaining pride. She could see it in his icy emerald eyes.
But Rockwood had told her in no uncertain terms that if there was one person who could help her, it was Noble. And she had no other choices. Not if she was going to save Kenny.
“My brother was taken by the night watch two evenings ago.” She’d been awake and running for help ever since. Fear and abject obstinacy were the only things keeping her upright. “They are charging him with murder. A—” She swallowed. “A constable said they are going to attempt to hurry through a trial.” She looked blindly down, unable to focus. “They mean to hang him.”
“The Middlesex murderer.”
Her head shot up. “He is not!”
“That is what they mean to hang him for, though, is it not?”
The faded red splat of a tomato stain glowed on the fabric above her kneecap. She squeezed her eyes shut.
“News travels fast in my circles.” His voice was silky and smooth, but still ice cold. “And even if it didn’t, it’s hardly a difficult thing to determine between your appearance, the timing, and your last name.”
“Then…then you know—”
“That your brother is Kenneth Winters? Seems likely.”
“He’s not a murderer.” Her lips pressed together.
“Of that, I have no idea.”
Silence sat like a stone. Noble seemed quite willing to let it gather moss.
But he hadn’t said no yet. “Will you help me?”
“Help you prove your brother innocent? Or help you avoid any more brushes with the locals?” He motioned to her dress.
