Adrian took a calming breath.He didn’t like resorting to threats and coercion.He’d much rather people comply without issue.Yet here he was, following in his forefather’s footsteps, fulfilling a destiny he had been bent on avoiding.
Until he’d gone to the morgue and seen Evie’s body.
The rage coiling inside him, a poison luring him to the darkness, had him in its grasp.There was no turning back.He’d do whatever it took in order to find the answers he sought.
I won’t let you down, Evie.
I’ll make sure the person who did this gets punished.
“Right this way, Mr.Croft,” said the clerk when he returned, not quite meeting Adrian’s gaze this time.
They strode through a long hallway with offices on each side.A large room at the end of the hallway housed the press.Several men rushed about in there, operating various parts of the printing process.
The clerk took the stairs next to this room and showed Adrian into an office directly above it.Mr.Abernathy was there, hunched over a simple desk while perusing some papers.Adrian had met him a few times before, most recently six days ago when he’d come to demand a retraction of the column the paper had printed about Evie.
Mr.Abernathy looked up when Adrian entered, and promptly stood in order to greet him.The clerk excused himself, closing the door on his way out and leaving the two men alone.
“I didn’t expect to see you again so soon,” Mr.Abernathy said.He gestured toward a vacant chair and offered Adrian a choice between tea and coffee.
Adrian declined the refreshment but accepted the seat.“I want to speak with the person who branded my sister a wanton.”
Mr.Abernathy lowered his bulky figure to his own chair with excessive slowness.“As I explained, that would violate their assurance of anonymity.We did, however, look into the matter and found the author within her right.Her source has since been interviewed, and according to her, your sister was indeed seen in the sort of indelicate situation that left little to the imagination.”
Adrian gripped the armrests, his nails digging into the polished wood.Clamping his teeth together, he breathed past the tightness in his chest and the tension straining his shoulders.
“Impossible.”He glared at Mr.Abernathy with every bit of contempt he harbored for him.“Evelyn’s innocence has been determined by the coroner.The source is either mistaken or lying, which obviously means…”
Apprehension surfaced in Mr.Abernathy’s eyes.His easy expression fell away, leaving something akin to dread in its place.“Are you implying that something one of our columnists wrote resulted in murder?”
“It’s what I warned you might happen when I was last here,” Adrian said, his voice soft, gentle, calm, in absolute contrast to how he felt.“Forget the columnist.Give me the source’s name and address instead and I’ll interview her myself.”
“Mr.Croft, I urge you to be reasonable.You cannot honestly expect me to give up such information.To do so would undermine everything this paper stands for.It would caution others against coming forward with newsworthy stories in the future.”
“I’ll pretend you didn’t just make the error of suggesting that protecting the lie this paper wrote about my sister, or the part it played in her death, is of less importance than the paper’s reputation.”Adrian leaned forward, bracing one forearm upon his thigh while staring Mr.Abernathy down.“Instead, I’ll ask if concealing a name is of greater importance to you than your life.”
Mr.Abernathy’s eyes widened and it looked as though a distinct sheen appeared on his brow.“My…my life?”
“I will not be thwarted in this.Understand?”
“You would have me…killed?”
“Whatever gave you that idea?”Adrian collected a piece of paper that sat on top of the desk, tore off a blank corner, and pushed it toward the editor.“The name and address, and I vow no harm shall come to you.”
It didn’t take more than a second for Mr.Abernathy to snatch up his quill and jot down the information.Adrian took it and left, allowing an unhappy smile in response to the sigh of relief that followed him from the room.
17
Adrian knocked on Mrs.Riley’s door some fifteen minutes later.After checking to make sure his mistress was home, her butler showed Adrian into a stuffy drawing room where lace curtains, piles of embroidered cushions, and thick carpeting seemed to serve as no other purpose than to collect dust.
The lady, a widow who’d lost her husband five years earlier and had chosen not to remarry, sat in a high-backed velvet armchair, her posture rigid.Dressed in a burgundy morning gown cut from a crisp crepe, she looked like a queen awaiting her execution.
“While I realize your coming here was inevitable, Mr.Croft, you still managed to catch me by surprise.I didn’t expect you quite so soon.”Her stiff gaze stayed upon him as he stepped toward her.She raised her chin – an attempt no doubt at feigning confidence.“You should know that I did consider asking Henson to turn you away.”
He slanted a look in her direction and arched an eyebrow.“Why didn’t you?”
A snort – an underlying hint of surrender.“I’m old enough to have known not only your father, Mr.Croft, but your grandfather too.If you take after either, then you’re not the sort of man one chooses to cross without consequence.”
“And yet, you spoke to a gossip columnist regarding my sister.”
