“Everything needs to be shut down,” the lackey answered quietly.
“Shut down? Has it come to this?”
“No, my lord. It has come tothis.”
Michael didn’t understand why the lackeyhad placed the emphasis onthis. He wanted to move forward, to see if anything like money was changing hands—
Sir Duncan cried out,“What...?Why...?”And then quiet.
Michael frowned. He wished he could see.
Another hushed male voice spoke. “Yer done?”
“Pack him up,” the lackey ordered. “We can’t leave him here. Get rid of the body. Toss it wherever you see fit.”
Only then did Michael realize what had happened to Sir Duncan. “Stay here,” he ordered Dara before charging forward.
The men were through the gate, one holding the lantern and one dragging Sir Duncan’s body by the shoulders. A hackney coach waited in the passageway for them.
“Stop!”Michael shouted. “Stay where you are.”
They immediately dropped the body and started for the vehicle.
Michael ran to the gate. He leaped over Sir Duncan to grab at the lackey.
It was a mistake. The man dropped the lantern and whirled on Michael. The lantern light flashed on the blade of a knife. He brought it down and might have delivered a fatal blow except for Dara’s warning.“Michael.”
Her presence distracted the attacker enough that the blade sliced through Michael’s coat sleeve, just barely grazing the skin.
The lackey looked at her. Her white muslin was like a beacon in the night. He scooped up the lantern and threw it at her. It hit the ground, exploding. Michael whirled around, worried for Dara, giving the lackey the opportunity to jump into the vehicle. With a snap of the reins, the two men were galloping down the passageway.
Michael ran to Dara, who was busy stomping on broken glass and flames. “Are you hurt?”
“No, I’m just trying to save the garden from catching fire.”
At that moment, Sir Duncan groaned. Shocked that he was still alive, Michael swung back to him, dropping by his side. The lackey had slit his throat. “Can you speak?” Michael asked desperately. “Who did this to you?”
Footsteps came running through the garden. “What happened?” a man asked.
“Someone attacked MP Carnuck,” Michael answered. The less that was known, the better.
“I saw two fellows trying to drag a body out,” a man from the passageway said. He pointed to Michael. “This one tried to stop them.”
Where once the garden had seemed empty, it was now filled with people.
Michael turned his attention back to Sir Duncan. His lordship’s eyes were wide as if he had something he wished to say, but couldn’t—and then, the tension left his body. The light died in his eyes, and Michael knew he was gone.
He also realized he needed to reach Thomas Ferrell, the government clerk who had alerted him to the embezzlement. What was it that the lackey had said?It has come tothis?
The swiftness of the attack, that Sir Duncan, an MP, had been murdered, left Michael shaken. Anything could happen.
Dara had come over to stand by him. “Michael, are you all right?”
Was he? No. Suddenly the night was filled with danger. If the lackey had caught sight of Dara, he might go for her, too.
Michael looked to the gentleman closest to him, Lord Painswick. “Please see to Sir Duncan. Someone will need to inform his wife that she is a widow.”
His lordship nodded, his expression both concerned and confused.
