“I don’t expect there to be blood.”
“So they always say,” Adelaide grumbled, then sobered. “I heard about Alexander—how tragic, what happened to him.”
The last thing Kane wanted to do was talk about Ward, especially with the woman he suspected the former kingpin had dallied with more than once. “Indeed.”
“Lucky you were prepared to take his place.”
“I’m not sure luck was involved. Ward spent years preparing me for this very role.”
Adelaide’s red-lipped smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Of course.”
Kane brought his teeth together. Unless he was misreading things, this woman had just become the first to suspect him of being involved in Ward’s death. Really, he was astonished it had taken this long. “What are you insinuating, Ada?”
She was quick to backpedal, sensing the danger in his question. “Nothing at all. Would you like me to show you upstairs?”
“That won’t be necessary. I take it you remember what I said in my note? When an unfamiliar girl and an older man show up, send them to me.”
Adelaide nodded, and with that Kane headed for the curving staircase, pressing close to the banister as two women brushed past him. The younger of the duo shot him a grin, which he didn’t return. He was blind to the lavish decor and drapery, deaf to the telltale moans and breathless mutterings emanating from behind the closed doors he passed. No sooner had he reached the empty room he’d described to Zaria than he heard Adelaide’s voice once again, greeting whomever else had just arrived. Zaria and Cubitt? He couldn’t be sure.
Nonetheless, Kane settled himself on the edge of the bed, content to wait. The room contained little other furniture—the walls were draped in shimmering fabric, the plush carpet a vaguely floral pattern. Everything was too bright, done in primary colors. Kane did not care for it. He preferred to look at people across a desk, alwaysmaintaining a degree of separation. As soon as he had the thought, Zaria’s face appeared in the doorway. Relief rushed through Kane at the sight of her. Her cheeks were lightly flushed, her hair unbound. Her dark gaze looked liable to bore a hole through someone. In hindsight, it had been risky, having this plot rely too heavily on her involvement. Nothing about her appearance suggested she was inclined toward pleasing men.
Cubitt must not have been thinking with his brain, however, because he appeared behind Zaria a mere heartbeat later.
“A very warm, quaint little place,” he was saying, gaze darting around until it came to rest on Kane. Confusion furrowed his brow, then annoyance. “Who are you?”
Kane spun his revolver as he crossed to lock the door. Zaria watched him from where she hovered in the corner, the shape of her mouth rather smug. He directed the barest nod her way before addressing Cubitt. “Good evening, sir. Please, do take a seat.”
The order appeared to perplex Cubitt further; there was nowhere to sit but the bed, and he sank onto it slowly, clearly trying to process the situation. “I don’t know what the hell this is, but you ought to know that I’m—”
“Oh, I know who you are, Mister Cubitt,” Kane said. “In fact, that’s why you’re here. You’re precisely the man with whom I wish to speak. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”
Cubitt didn’t return the niceties. Rather, he ventured a glance at Zaria, who remained expressionless. Kane laughed.
“Yes, she’s my associate. Did a good job, didn’t she? Your attention is easily drawn.”
“What is it that you want?” Cubitt asked gruffly, turning back to Kane. “Money? Fine. I don’t care. Just let me leave this place.”
“And you will. First, however, you and I are going to have a ratherimportant discussion.” This wasn’t Kane’s first time dealing with a man like Cubitt. It wasn’t uncommon for the rich to make purchases on the dark market. Whenever a deal didn’t go through as agreed, that was when the dark market kingpin stepped in. Without someone like Ward—and now Kane—there would be no accountability. No way to ensure people upheld their end of the deal. The kingpin would intervene on behalf of either buyer or seller in order to ascertain the item or money was delivered. And he would, of course, take a cut of that money. “I want to speak to you about a matter that requires considerable discretion on both our ends. You see, it has to do with your role as a member of the Royal Commission for the Exhibition.”
The shift in Cubitt’s demeanor was obvious and immediate. His posture stiffened, his expression shuttering. “As I’m sure you know, I cannot discuss anything related to my role as a member of the commission.”
Zaria met Kane’s gaze, her brows drawn slightly together. She, too, was waiting to hear what this was all about. Kane shot her a look that urged patience. Then he sighed, pointing his gun directly at Cubitt’s head.
“I really don’t want to have to threaten you, Mister Cubitt.” God knew he’d done enough of that already this week. “But I need information, and it would behoove you not to refuse before I’ve even asked my questions.”
Cubitt shifted his weight. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he looked like precisely what he was: an unimpressive frail older man. “If anything happens to me, the investigation will be immediate and thorough. You’ll be wanted by the crown itself.”
Kane’d had enough. “I need to speak to you about the Curator.”
This brought Cubitt up short. “How do you know about that?”
“I know a great many things.”
“You shouldn’t. Whoever told you has committed a breach of confidence.”
Kane gave a breathy laugh through his nose. “I’ve seen the recent papers, Mister Cubitt. I’d like you to tell me everything you and the rest of the commission know.”
“The authorities are still looking into the matter,” Cubitt said, but he looked markedly less frightened. “It wasn’t supposed to be public, butThe Timesmanaged to get a hold of the story. Still, the perpetrator’s pseudonym wasn’t reported on.”
