She was already moving, sweeping past the butlerbefore he could register her intent. In all likelihood, her lack of adherence to protocol shocked him so much he failed to respond with the swiftness required to stop her.
“Wait,” he eventually managed. “You can’t invade someone’s home without invitation.”
But she was now several steps ahead of him, her instinct steering her toward the first closed door to her left. She thrust it open, saw that the room – a parlor – was empty, and kept on walking.
“Mrs. Croft,” said the butler, his voice much firmer now that he’d gathered his wits. His heels clicked with the effort to try and catch up. “Your behavior is utterly inappropriate. I must insist you leave this instant.”
“In a moment,” she told him, her hand reaching for another door handle. It turned in response to her touch, and the door swung open, revealing a study where cabinets sat against one wall, book cases against the other. An ornate desk was placed in the center, behind which she found the man she sought.
Stanton glanced up from whatever it was he was writing, his cool gaze meeting hers across the distance.
“Forgive me,” said the butler, finally reaching Samantha. “I tried to tell her, but—”
“It’s fine,” Stanton said, the tone of his voice suggesting it was anything but. “Looks like I’ll be speaking with Mrs. Croft after all. You may go.”
“Should I ask a maid to bring up some tea?”
“No. I don’t believe this…social callwill be long enough for that.”
No doubt sensing the tension, the butler made a swift retreat, disappearing to some other part of the house. Samantha approached Stanton’s desk, ignoring his refusal to stand since she rather liked the advantage her superior height gave her. The odious man even had the audacity to lean back in his armchair.
Halting before him, Samantha stared down into his chubby face with every bit of resentment she harbored. “I suspect my being here must come as quite the surprise.”
“There’s no denying that, considering the fact I specifically asked my butler to send you away.”
So it was to be like that, was it? She wasn’t really surprised. “You know that’s not what I mean.”
He tilted his head, his gaze studying and assessing. “What else might you be referring to?”
She couldn’t help but scoff at his effort to try and deceive her. “The attack carried out last night on the Croft carriage.”
Stanton froze, his attention on her as sharp as a fox on the hunt. “I know nothing of that.”
His denial added fuel to her anger. She planted her palms on his desk and leaned forward with every bit of menace in her possession. “The attacker claimed otherwise. In fact, your calling card was found on his person.”
“Do you have any idea how many people I’ve handed my calling card to over the years? It means nothing. A coincidence I can rectify if you’ll allow me to speak with the villain.”
A skeptical laugh cracked in her throat. “So you can make sure he’s silenced for good before he can make a statement in court? I don’t think so.”
“Now you listen to me,” Stanton blurted, splotches of red appearing upon his fleshy cheeks. “This is my reputation we’re speaking of here. I’ll not have you tarnish it in any way. Certainly not when there’s no truth to back up your story.”
“My husband was stabbed during the attack,” she informed him coolly, “his coachman killed. If you think for one second I’ll let this slide, you’re severely mistaken. In fact, now that I think of it, I’d not be surprised if you also hired the men who attacked my husband in May.”
The slightest flicker of affirmation in Stanton’s cool gaze informed her she’d struck a chord. The tension gripping her tightened in direct proportion to her rising anger. This was the man behind those thugs who’d shown up at Reed’s Boxing Club, recklessly brandishing pistols without a care for anyone’s safety. One would have killed her had he not been stopped by Murry.
Rather than deny his involvement, as she’d expected, Stanton pushed himself out of his chair so he could meet her head-on at eye level. Annoyance pulled his mouth into an unhappy line and caused his eyebrows to dip while creasing his brow.
“Did it ever occur to you that I may have acted with good reason?” The viscount spoke tersely but kept his voice level. “Your husband belongs behind bars, Mrs.Croft, if not at the gallows. While he may look the part of an upper-class gentleman, he’s nothing more than a lowly criminal. Associates of his have been known to disappear, which is precisely what happened to the men I hired. I’d not be the least bit surprised if they’re dead. Killed by his hand.”
Samantha could only stare back mutely since she believed much the same. As such, it took her a second to find the presence of mind to say, “That’s quite the accusation to make against a respectable member of Society.”
Stanton scoffed and dropped back into his chair. “There’s nothing respectable about Mr. Croft. He’s a scoundrel through and through and can only be dealt with in the same underhanded manner he himself chooses to use.”
His wording caught her attention. “How do you mean?”
“He was blackmailing me. That’s how he gains his power and control. Same as his father and those before him. It’s the Croft family way, though not one I was willing to be a victim of. That’s why I sent those men – to try and reclaim the information your husband meant to use against me.”
Samantha’s mind whirled with this new information. It couldn’t be right. The man she knew Adrian to be would not engage in such behavior. Unless he’d had good cause, a reason so compelling it forced his hand.
