Your Friend, Always
Malcolm scowled as he glanced at the missive in his hand. “Who wrote this?”
“I wish I knew,” Broderick grumbled. “It was left for my friend who works for the magistrate. He said a lovely woman with red hair gave it to him.”
Malcolm snapped his attention toward his friend. “Do you know a woman with red hair?”
Broderick frowned. “I know a few, but none of them would be consideredlovely.”
Malcolm pushed away from his drawing board in the office and leaned on his cane as he limped to the window. “The question is, how well do we trust this source?”
“Indeed, that’s an excellent question. I think I may have an answer.” Broderick moved beside him. “The missive asks me to watch Kennedy closely. So, as long as I can do it without being seen, I might be able to tell if this unknown person is trying to help us or not.”
“I don’t know, Broderick.” Pursing his lips, Malcolm started out the window into the busy street. He was thankful Kennedy and Crowley hadn’t arrived at work yet this morning. It gave him more time to think. “What woman would want to help us?”
“I was also pondering this since I received this note.” Broderick tapped his finger on the windowpane. “You mentioned your wife was worried about you. Do you suppose it’s Camilla who wrote this?”
“Impossible!” Malcolm moved back to his drawing board and stared at the blank page. Camilla wouldn’t do this without telling him, would she? He couldn’t allow her to do that. If she were caught by one of the soldiers…
He shook off the frightening chill running down his back. He wouldn’t let that happen.
“Broderick? Gather all the information you can. And yes, if possible, I want you to spy on Kennedy tonight.” He swung his gaze toward his friend. “I wish I wasn’t a gimp, or I could assist.”
“I can do it.” Broderick stepped toward him. “I won’t get caught.”
“I pray we will be able to catch Kennedy and Wilkes in the act. I would love nothing more than to see those two men sent to the gaol.”
“I agree wholeheartedly. The pompous captain thinks he can control everything. He acts like he runs Dorchester. I don’t knowwho gave him that assignment, but whoever it was needs to retract it.”
The office door opened as Brandon Kennedy entered. Both Malcolm and Broderick quickly ended their conversation. A gust of wind blew in a few leaves under Kennedy’s feet as he nearly skipped toward his office. He seemed chipper today as he shrugged off his overcoat.
“Good morning, Kennedy,” Malcolm greeted him.
Brandon turned and nodded. “Malcolm. Mr. Turner.” He whistled as he walked to the rack and hung up his coat. “A fine morning, is it not?”
Malcolm threw Broderick a wary glance. “Yes, it is, Kennedy. You look rather cheerful today.”
Brandon walked back to his desk, his grin widening with each step. “The fact is, I am extremely happy, and so will you be when I tell you the good news.”
“Good news?” Malcolm limped away from the window.
“Indeed. I heard that Lord Arlington is in the market for someone to build him a gr and manor in Dorchester.” Brandon chuckled. “That man is worth a lot of money, and I’m certain he’ll pay a good price.”
“That is good news.” Malcolm nodded. “When will you meet with him?”
“I have sent him a letter in hopes of setting up an appointment to meet with him next week.” Brandon leaned back in his chair and threw a skeptical glare at Malcolm. “I’m hoping your streak of bad luck has ended, because if you draw up the plans, I don’t want them getting lost somehow.”
Malcolm fisted his hands under his desk. Working with this man made him want to throttle him constantly. “I assure you, my streak of bad luck has ended.” At least, he hoped.
“That’s good to know.” Brandon turned back to his desk and started writing on a blank page.
Malcolm gritted his teeth, trying his hardest not to show the elation filling him. Brandon didn’t know—and hopefully, would never find out—but Malcolm already had an appointment scheduled with Lord Arlington. In three days, in fact. Malcolm would get that account before Brandon, and hopefully, this would be the last he had to work with Kennedy and Crawley.
The tower clock by the courthouse chimed the tenth morning hour. Broderick stood and cupped Malcolm’s shoulder. The movement slightly relieved his tension.
“Well,” Broderick said, “that is my signal to get to work. I need to run errands for my boss’s wife. If I’m not back shortly, she will dismiss me.”
Malcolm gave him a nod. “Let me know if she gets tough on you. I have a personal relationship with that mean Mrs. Worthington.” He winked.
