Hawkes regarded him fixedly. His own fury simmered in his veins.
“Losing a woman like Aurelie would madden any man. I understand completely.”He said this almost on a purr.
Brundage’s face blanked as if he’d taken a blow to the head.
And then cold fury bordering on panic suffused it.
“Sohelpme God if you touch her, I will see you dead, Hawkes.”
Said the man who had in all likelihood done far, far worse than just touch Aurelie.
Hawkes nodded sympathetically; his brow furrowed quizzically. “But how will you manage that? You apparently didn’t even budget for a proper assassin on your first go.Although... I suppose you could create a new charity and solicit donations for it, and pay the assassin out of that.”
He probably shouldn’t have said that, but it was worth it for Brundage’s reaction.
For the first time, naked fear flashed across the earl’s face.
“Never fear, Brundage. I’m a gentleman. Touching another man’s woman would be tantamount to treason, as far as I’m concerned. And I’ve very strong feelings about treason.”
“You arenothing,” Brundage said coldly. “You areno one. And it’s about time you learned your place, Hawkes.”
Hawkes nodded with polite disinterest. “I’ll keep you apprised of my findings. I’ll see myself out.”
He was furious at himself. He’d overestimated his ability to keep his rage at Brundage leashed. As he finally returned to The Grand Palace on the Thames, he could still feel rage fizzing like a chemical in his blood.
He was uncertain whether he’d been rash. He wasneverrash.
As luck would have it, Captain Hardy was leaving as Hawkes was crossing the foyer for the stairs.
He eyed him askance. “You should rest, Hawkes.”
Hawkes almost smiled. “I look that good, do I?”
Hardy didn’t answer that. “I wanted to let you know Bolt spoke privately to our man at Lloyd’s and stressed the urgency of your inquiry. No monies from a charity of that name have ever been transferred to them. They have no record at all of the Society for the Relief of English Prisoners of War.”
Hawkes took this in and slowly nodded with a hard little smile. “Thank you very much indeed, Hardy.”
“If there’s anything else we can do to be of assistance, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
Chapter Eighteen
A costermonger’s cart had overturned in the street, so the hack driver put Aurelie down a good fifty feet or some from the direction she’d given him for Turnbull & Sons. It wasn’t an auspicious beginning to the meeting. And perhaps she ought to have taken the blocked road as an omen.
She disembarked, and made a concerted effort not to gaze into the faces of passersby as she strode past them.
Nevertheless, she could sense the heads turning to look at her. She might be a fake widow, but she supposed she was not yet stately enough or briskly no-nonsense enough, like Mrs. Pariseau, to confidently march unaccompanied down a crowded street without inviting speculation. She was a fast walker, and fortunately her destination was easy to find, becauseTurnbull & Sonswas handsomely lettered across a large window.
Aurelie paused before it, beset with a fresh wave of indecision about whether to enter or to turn around and hail another hack and go back to the safety of The Grand Palace on the Thames.
She had just pivoted a half turn to leave when a man burst out the door of the shop, his face wreathed in a smile. “Mrs.Gallagher, I presume?”
She stepped backward in alarm. He was so veryhearty. It was like taking a hot, brisk wind to the face.
“Mr. Monroe?” she said carefully.
“At your service,” he said cheerily. “You resemble him, you know! Edouard! Such an attractive pair, you two are. And I feel as though I know you so well through the things that Edouard has told me that I ought to sweep you up in a hug! I shall refrain and bow instead.” Mr. Monroe whisked his hat from his curly head and did just that.
She was fairly certain a gentleman would never presume to sweep a lady into a hug, let alone mention the temptation aloud, but it sounded a bit like something Mr. Delacorte might say, and Mr. Delacorte was a very nice and good person.
