“He’s dead, though not by my hand.”
Surprise showed on her face. “Someone else got to him first?”
“Based on what you’ve told me, I’m thinking it might have been Wrengate.”
A pensive nod was her only response. When she looked at him next, uncertainty was etched on her brow, making it clear that her thoughts had shifted. “What will we do with Isak?”
“I would suggest we leave him here for a few days until he’s better. After that, we give him a couple of options to choose from.”
“Maybe it’s best if I stay.” She returned her attentionto the boy who slept, his pain briefly forgotten in slumber. “I’d hate for him to think I abandoned him.”
“You need rest too, and I doubt he would have such thoughts after what you did for him tonight. But just to be sure, we’ll leave a message for when he wakes.” He brushed his fingers against her cheek. “Come home. Sleep. You can return in the morning to see how he’s faring.”
She stifled a yawn and stood. When they returned to the entry hall, Mrs. Burns was waiting with alcohol and clean linen squares. Adrian sat and she cleaned the cut on his cheek while Samantha wrote a message for Isak.
“He probably won’t be able to read,” she told the nurse when she handed her the message for Isak.
“If that’s the case, then the nurse who relieves me later will read it to him. You mustn’t worry.”
They thanked her and departed. Adrian hailed a hackney, and they settled in for the short ride back to Portman Square.
“Am I a horrible person for being glad Wycliff is dead?” Samantha quietly asked, her head resting lightly on Adrian’s shoulder.
“No.” He caught her hand, his thumb stroking her palm. “Wycliff was a monster who got precisely what he deserved.”
He felt her nod of agreement, and then she said, her voice so incredibly small, “Isak refused to tell me what happened to him in that brothel. I fear there’s no coming back from what he or those other children have been through.”
“At least they’re safe now.”
He said nothing further about it, but the more he thought on the matter, the more convinced he became that he’d acted correctly tonight. The people who’d actively seen to those children’s abuses would soon face judgement.
Wycliff, meanwhile, would rot in hell.
Try as he might, Adrian couldn’t ignore the satisfaction he found in the thought. His only regret that it wasn’t he who had sent him there.
Shades of pink, orange, and purple stained the sky by the time Wrengate dismounted his horse. He tossed the reins to a sleepy-eyed groom and strode toward the front steps, gravel crunching beneath his well-worn boots.
“Forgive us for being so ill-prepared for your arrival,” said the butler when he took the outerwear Wrengate handed to him. “We weren’t expecting you today, Your Grace.”
“Of course not, Ludlow.” He’d had no intention of coming here either, but after leaving St. Giles, he’d wanted to put more distance between himself and Wycliff’s dead body than what his London address allowed.
Exhausted, he dismissed his butler, declined the need for a valet, and climbed the stairs in search of his bed. It had been a while since he’d last killed someone,but since those hired to do the job for him had failed, he’d been left with no choice.
If he was to keep his purpose a secret, measures had to be taken.
Like getting rid of the man who’d been tasked with smuggling priceless notes out of France on his behalf. As well as the masked individual he had shown up with when they’d last met.
It had taken him two months to piece together what happened. Information had been hard to come by, the bodies of his men long gone by the time he returned to the scene. But during the weeks that followed a picture had emerged alerting him to the fact that Wycliff’s accomplice was far more dangerous than he’d imagined.
He'd have to learn their identity next, then hunt them down and ensure their silence.
14
The splashing of water intruded upon Samantha’s dreams. She pried one eye open and groaned in response to the sunshine pouring in through the parted curtains. It felt like her head had been struck by a hammer.
Her gaze shifted to Adrian, who was in the process of using the washstand. Although he’d woken before she, it didn’t look like he fared much better, judging from the weary look shadowing his eyes.
She glanced at the clock. It was only eight. They’d gotten barely five hours of rest. “Must we rise so soon?”
