Except he was not a thief, was he?
“You can untie me,” Radnor said. “I never take chances with pistols, and I am not a danger in any case.”
“You are an intruder. I intend to leave you like that while I swear down information against you,” Minerva said.
“If you do it will come to naught and will only delay my mission. Now, untie me. I have something important to tell you that will explain why I am here.”
She hated how that provoked her curiosity, and also her trepidation. He might tell her that the investigation into Algernon’s death had been revived. Then again, he might reveal that at long last the poacher involved in that accident had been found. Or he might tell her that he had come to take her to gaol.
She collected herself. It was foolish to build monsters out of this stranger’s presence. There had been nothing to indicate he knew about her former identity and life.
“Explain yourself first.” She leveled the pistol firmly. “I am not inclined to trust a housebreaker.”
He gave one furious tug on the ties behind his back. He narrowed his eyes. “I have come to inform you of something that benefits you significantly.”
“What is that?”
“You have inherited some money. A large amount of it.”
* * *
Chase did not like when carefully laid plans failed. Now he grimaced while the servant called Beth dabbed at his scalp to clean the wound of blood.
A good deal of blood. He knew from his time in the army that scalp wounds were notorious for bleeding, no matter how minor.
Not that his felt all that minor. The hammer still banged.
He was sitting on a stool while the stout woman did her nursing. Fifteen feet away Minerva Hepplewhite waited patiently, watching.Lounging, damn it. The pistol now lay on a table next to where she relaxed on a divan.
She appeared composed. At ease. Minerva Hepplewhite had a level of self-possession that unaccountably irritated him.
“Explain yourself,” she said. “If you had information to give me, why didn’t you show up on my doorstep and present your card?”
That was hard to explain without putting her on her guard. “I wanted proof you were Minerva Hepplewhite. I did not want to risk speaking to the wrong woman.”
She frowned over that.
The hands on his scalp lifted, then returned and pressed against his head. He almost cursed the woman, even though he knew she only applied a poultice.
The woman Beth stepped back, taking the scent of cheap rose water with her. “Done. Shouldn’t bleed much now. You will want your valet to wash your hair carefully for a spell. If he soaks your shirt in salt water, it should help get the blood out.” She gestured to his coats. “Not much help for those stains, though.”
The two women exchanged looks. Beth left the library and closed the door behind her.
“How did you find me?” Minerva Hepplewhite asked.
“It is my profession to find people.”
“Ah, you are a runner. Is this not an odd assignment? I thought it was your profession to find paramours of married individuals, then tell their spouses about their misdeeds.”
He did that too. It was the least interesting work, and an assignment he did not seek. Yet it came to him too often, since so many spouses committed so many misdeeds.
“I am not a runner. I am a gentleman who on occasion conducts discreet inquiries.”
“If the fine distinction gives you comfort that you are not a servant, hold to it.”
He stood. His scalp gave a few good hammer blows in response, but they were not quite as bad as they had been.
“Tell me about this inheritance,” she said.
