Flynn viewed the smug man through a swirl of red mist. He was barely aware of his fist crunching into Crowthorne’s jaw. His knuckles ached at the solid left hook but felt good, so he followed it with a right to the man’s soft stomach.
“Oomph.” Crowthorne fell to his knees.
“Get up!” Flynn snarled, kicking out at him.
Crowthorne staggered to his feet and swiped at his cut lip with a finger. He was breathing heavily. “This will get you nowhere, Montsimon.” He coughed, fighting for breath. “We are wasting what is left of the night.”
“You haven’t found anything. And you’re not going to,” Flynn said.
Rage distorted Crowthorne’s features, reminding Flynn of the gargoyles decorating his Irish staircase. “I advise you to leave me to find it. It’s that or your lady’s life.”
Desperation tightened his chest. Flynn realized he would not make Crowthorne talk with the use of force. He held an ace. Althea. “What is this damnable thing you seek?”
“Jewels, Montsimon,” Crowthorne said, his eyes alight. “The likes of which you have never seen. You can share in the spoils if you agree to turn your back. Brookwood hid them here. Allow my men to continue their search and I’ll hand over Lady Brookwood.”
He didn’t believe that for a second. “How did Brookwood come by these jewels?”
“We’re jewel thieves. And bloody good at it,” the robber said.
“Shut up you fool!” Crowthorne snarled.
“You got us into this,” the thief yelled. “Said it was foolproof, you did!” He stepped toward Crowthorne, only to be pushed back by Bricks. “It was all ’is doing.” He said to Flynn. “’e gave us the names and addresses of the rich toffs and told us when they’d be away in the country. We robbed a lot of ’em last year. Sir ’arold ’ad great plans, ’e did, to make our fortunes.”
“I might be agreeable to an arrangement,” Flynn said as a gasp of surprise came from Bricks. There had been a spate of jewel robberies from members of thetonin London about that time. But a few jewels, no matter how fine, would hardly cause Crowthorne to take such risks. “Get on with it. Then you will take me to Althea.”
Crowthorne turned to Hazelton. “You heard what Lord Montsimon said. Get moving.”
Flynn edged closer to Bricks as the men busied themselves banging on the paneling. “I want Crowthorne to escape,” he said in the man’s ear.
Bricks nodded.
Flynn folded his arms and tried to ignore the destruction as fine oak wainscoting, which had been in place for hundreds of years, was jimmied from the walls. Althea would be heartbroken. He hoped to have it restored before…. He drew in lungfuls of air, despairing. Had he been careless not to have protected her? His blood ran cold at the thought of her held captive by these brutes. Was she hurt? Had Crowthorne touched her? He would kill him if he had. Where had they taken her?
He steeled himself. Let Crowthorne think he has the upper hand. To outwit this man, he had to play him at his own game. With the hope he would lead Flynn to Althea, Flynn fought his impatience and waited for the perfect moment to cause a disturbance which would allow Crowthorne to escape.
