Edward blew out a breath and sank against his seat.“Don’t tell me anything more.I don’t want to know but…damn it, you should have told Bow Street to handle this.”
“That wasn’t an option.”Good lord, the very idea of involving the authorities in his private affairs was enough to make his skin itch.He drank a measure of ale.
“Look, our friendship is based on me not knowing what you’re involved with, so all I’ll say is this: Knowing who your father was, I’m fairly sure you didn’t send those men who attacked you off to Bath on holiday.Which worries me, because if you get caught doing something…questionable…I’m not sure I’ll have the power to save you.”
“I understand, and I appreciate your concern.”He genuinely meant it.“Please don’t worry.”
“How can I not?”Incredulity filled Edward’s eyes.“With your sister gone you’re…” He shook his head.“Just promise me you’ll be careful.”
“Always.”
Edward didn’t look fully convinced.Concern was still etched on his brow, but when he spoke next his thoughts had clearly shifted.“They say time heals all wounds, but I miss Evie more with each passing day.”
Edward’s use of Evelyn’s pet name came as a jarring surprise.It shouldn’t have, Adrian reflected, and yet the intimacy and loss it conveyed was poignant.
A sad smile tugged at Edward’s lips.“If only I’d told her how I felt.”
If only.
Maybe he would have married her and she would still be alive today.Adrian swallowed that thought when he took his next sip and opted for offering comfort instead.“I’m sure she knew.”
“Maybe,” Edward conceded.His gaze suddenly darkened.“I want her killer to hang.”
“He’ll do more than that,” Adrian vowed.
The comment brought Edward’s head up with a snap.He stared across the table between them, his knuckles bright as he gripped his mug.“You promised me less than ten minutes ago that you’d stay out of danger.Let Bow Street handle this matter so they don’t find cause to go after you as well.”
“As much as I appreciate your concern, Evie was my sister.Bow Street is doing bugger all to catch the man who, may I remind you, butchered her throat.So I will do whatever I can to sniff him out.And once I do, the bastard will rue the day he was born.”
Noting how pale Edward looked, Adrian realized he’d probably said too much.A notion he thought on at greater length later when he returned home.Edward was like the brother he’d never had.They’d always gotten along.But only because he’d kept the ugly part of himself and all his dark family secrets carefully tucked away so his friend wouldn’t see.
It occurred to him now how exhausting that was, constantly having to tiptoe around the edges for fear of what Edward might think.Or worse, what his moral compass might prompt him to do.
By contrast, Miss Carmichael seemed more inclined to safeguard his secrets.Maybe.He took a moment to explore that thought.Unlike Edward, she’d encouraged him to seek vengeance on Evie’s behalf.Hell, she was trying to help him track down the killer.
He sipped the tea he’d ordered before retiring, his heart finding a steadier rhythm the more he thought on the woman who’d come to his aid in the midst of a fight.Unique was one way to describe her.Brave was another.As were resilient, remarkable, surprising, attractive, compelling, and…
He could not wait to see her again tomorrow.
* * *
Having opted for a snug pair of breeches, a comfortable shirt and jacket, Samantha accompanied Wycliffe into a narrow street.The hooded mask she wore concealed all but her eyes, the daggers tucked into her sleeves a welcome reminder that she could protect herself from whatever danger she might be about to face.
Wycliffe had not been specific.He’d merely informed her that he was about to meet with a disgruntled business associate.Things might get rough.It was her job to keep him safe.
They crossed to a shadowy doorway and Wycliffe gave the door a few solid knocks.It opened a smidgen and someone peered out through the gap, took quick stock of them, then pulled the door wide to grant them entry.
Samantha followed Wycliffe inside, her attention on the man who’d let them in.His thick arms stretched the sleeves of his jacket taut, his broad torso forcing the garment to gape at the front.Built from pure muscle, he’d prove a dangerous foe if she had to fight him.
“This way,” he said, his voice gruff.
He led them through a hallway toward another door and out into a courtyard lit only by the occasional touch of moonlight.Two other men stood here, both of solid build, though one appeared slightly shorter.
“Who’s your friend, Wycliffe?”
Samantha tilted her head, her eyes on the shorter man as he stepped closer.She knew that voice but couldn’t quite place it.
“One of the older lads,” Wycliffe said.“The right side of his face melted a few years ago in a fire, so he keeps it hidden from view.”
