Cheeks as hot as seaside stone at midsummer, Ariadne proceeded to strip off her outer layers and soon her travelling petticoat, and then asked, “Can you help me get this corset off, please?”
The modiste blinked, “Forgive my fright, Your Grace, but I was not aware ladies still wore those death traps.”
Still, the modiste helped her out of her corset and lay it down with the rest, only for her to be ordered to remove the chemise too. With no choice, she removed those too and wrapped her arm around herself, utterly self-conscious.
“Good,” the modiste did not blink an eye, “We can start now.”
Cedric strode into the bank with so much force that two clerks scurried out of his way and headed to the long counters staffed by clerks and tellers clad in formal attire.
With a long sweep of his head from left to right, Cedric realized Leander was gone, but Hunt had his men trailing Leander, so either way, he was going to catch the blighter.
“Where is the supervisor?” he demanded.
His glare must have caused panic because in less than two minutes, a man was gesturing him into his office.
“What may I do for you, Yo?—”
“Leander Graymont.” He railroaded over him. “What did he do today?”
The supervisor began to visibly sweat, and his eyes grew shifty. “I am not sure I can disclose such details, Your Grace. I should defer to the court of directors?—”
Cedric did not have time for this. “How much did he bribe you with to look the other way?”
“B- Bribe? Oh, no—no, Your Grace, I could not ever take such a thing?—”
“Ten pounds?”
“I cannot?—”
“Twenty pounds?”
“Sir, I cannot?—”
“Fifty?”
When the man’s face went chalk white, Cedric knew he had hit the mark. “What service did he do here? I’d rather not have to have you fired publicly and have your name struck from every hiring leader from here to Scotland.”
The man crumpled. “He withdrew ten thousand pounds from his private account, Your Grace, and he—” he mopped his brow while his quaking hand sifted through the books on his desk to pull out a note. “—he left this for you as he said he suspected you would trace him here.”
Opening the note, he saw Leander’s slashing hand again.You lost again, old man, you lost again.
Crushing the taunting note in a cruel fist, Cedric demanded, “You will notify the court of directors that Leander is banned from any account under my name and my estate.”
“Sir—”
“This is not a debate,” he said. “Do it. Now. I will put in a firmer order for now, but this is an immediate order.”
“I will, Sir, I swear on my life I will do so,” the supervisor swallowed, “About the…the?—”
Cedric was already out of his seat. “Bribe?”
“Yes, Your Grace,” the man whimpered. “I cannot lose this position, you see. My wife just, well, she took it to her head thatour parlor needed redecorating. It was a perfectly fine parlor, mind you. but she was insistent on changing the seating, the wallpaper, the?—”
“Get it done. Now.” He said on his way out, declining to give the man any comfort against his crime.
Leander is running, but to where?
As he hopped into the carriage, a footman came running, only pausing to breathe. “Your Grace, we have eyes on Lord Moreland. At the point, he is at Botham House at Berwick Street, Soho, and it does not look as if he is about to leave yet.”
