If their roles had been reversed, Dara would have found the situation difficult as well.
However, perhaps, if Elise could unbend a bit from her hurt, then in time, shewouldfind a love of her own. Then all would be forgiven... Dara hoped.
***
The Royal Arms was a public house located next to docks. It was not fashionable.
However, one could usually find Steele someplace close if he was in town. Or, at the least, send a message to him.
Fortunately for Michael, Steele was nursing an ale at a corner table. He appeared lost in thought.But nothing got past Steele. When Michael approached the table, he looked up. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Sir Duncan is dead.”
“I know.” Steele traced a circle on the table in front of him with one finger. “As well as one Andrew Plummer. He’s gone missing.”
Michael was not surprised by the news. He had feared for Plummer’s life.
“You also lost your man, didn’t you? Ferrell was his name.”
Michael sat at the table. “How did you know?”
Steele shrugged and picked up his drink. “The Runners. There was a report of a stabbing.”
“And they offered that information to you?”
“Everyone offers me information,” Steele remarked. He smiled, the expression curiously without conceit. He’d stated a fact. Nothing more; nothing less. “The watch gave them the name of a man who identified the body—Michael Brogan, MP.”
Michael had given it to them, exactly like that.
“Now what?” Steele asked.
“We have lost.”
Steele sat up. “What do you mean?”
“Ferrell had the proof, the knowledge. Without it, we have the suppositions of a dead man. We don’t even have Sir Duncan to badger.”
“I wanted to,” Steele reminded him.
“My fault. I called you off. I insisted we do thisthe right way. One that no judge could deny. We needed that, considering who set this scheme up.”
Now he had Steele’s interest. Leaning forward, Steele asked, “Do you know who our thief is?”
“I believe I do. Except I have no proof, and this one will need to be proven,” Michael said. “Ferrell was the man who knew what was going on. He could trace the accounts and the monies stolen. Now we have nothing.”
“And you are giving up?”
Michael thought of Holsworthy sitting in his private court at Brooks’s, living off of money that had been marked for soldiers fighting Britain’s wars. He was the worst villain the world had ever known. “I will find a way. In the meantime, here is a description of the man who killed Sir Duncan, and perhaps all the others.” He gave Steele what he knew. “It isn’t much.”
“I don’t always need much. I will share with my friends. Someone will know him.” Steele sat back in his chair. “Who we really want is your person. If you have an inkling, share his name. There are ways of handling the matter beyond the courts.”
That didn’t sit well with Michael. “Not yet. I want to see this done right. We must in order to make a case so clear, no one ever attempts such thievery again.”
“You are naive. Especially if you think you aren’t a target like Ferrell. But don’t worry, I’llkeep my eye on your back,” Steele muttered. He drained his tankard and held it up to show the serving girl he wished a refill. She ran over, smiling at him.
Michael shook his head. “You make people nervous.”
“Do I?”
