Aware she didn’t know thisstrangerfrom Adam and thus dare not entrust him with such information, she shook her head. “If you go, then I will be alone here, and then my husband will throttle you anyway. Which site of execution would you prefer?”
Alexander had obviously chosen brawn over brain when he’d selected this guard as the fellow took an inordinate amount of time thinking it over, but finally he jerked his head to the carriage.
“But don’t die,” he muttered. “I’ll lose my job.”
“I’ll try not to. Now wait here one moment.”
She dashed up the stairs, along the corridor to her bedchamber and headed to the smaller wardrobe at the back of her dressing room. An array of cloaks met her view, but she ignored them and instead kneeled to unlock the oblong box at the very bottom.
Now, the red or the blue?
Chapter Twenty-three
A mighty hogo…
“Me deft ole conk detects some’in fishy, Alex, me ole duck.”
The riverside location of the warehouse suspected of being a centre for nefarious dealings did indeed whiff, but his companion’s attempt at the local flash lingo was truly appalling. If Winterbourne favoured him with the appellation “duck” one more time, he’d stuff that grubby neckcloth down the man’s gullet until he quacked.
Bluey had mentioned the area was employed in fish storing and gutting, and assuredly, the rank smell was enough to daunt even the most hardened of spies. Thankfully, after stomaching the previous chef’s creations, Rakecombe felt himself wholly hardened.
Currently, the two of them were ensconced across the street, leaning against a loaded cart, the fruit seller amenable to their leanings once she’d been handed – as his companion called it – “hush blunt”.
For two hours they’d loitered without anyone coming or going, until finally three men had entered the building. They had yet to leave and hadn’t been wearing the garb of fishermen. In point of fact, one had a suspiciously familiar pug nose.
Rakecombe scratched his neck, feeling…watched again.
Glancing around, he spied no one, but the hairs at his nape stood to attention. Was it friend or foe? “Let’s wander around the back and see what we can find.”
“Plummy idea, me ole–”
Accompanied by a curl of the lip, he cast his coldest glare, and Winterbourne silenced his trap. Thank the devil that glare still worked; he’d been worried as his ruthless scowls didn’t seem to affect Aideen in the slightest.
Strangely, she…liked them.
As they idly strolled the side of the large brick-built warehouse, circumventing numerous stray cats, he pondered on that realisation.
Most women wanted to change a man such as himself. They’d berate him for his taciturn manner, but Aideen appeared to like him, more or less, as he was. Yes, he softened in her presence, but he didn’t have to think on his words or attempt to cajole her with false flattery.
Was it worth losing that because she wouldn’t adhere to his guidance? Perchance he could negotiate a little.
Stacks of empty barrels squatted around the back, but hidden amongst them was a small door in the warehouse wall. They sauntered over, and he was about to rummage in his pockets for his lock-picker when Winterbourne wafted a suitable device under his nose.
It was better crafted than his own, in silver and superb in every detail. It even looked to have a sprung knife within. “Where did you get that?” he asked grumpily.
“Yer bit o’ lawful blanket,” Winterbourne replied with a wink. “Thought we might be out on the dub.”
He had to think on that a while as his comrade fiddled with the lock. “Aideen lent you it?” Should he be more irritated that she owned such a magnificent picker or that she’d lent it to the marquess?
“’Aven’t you jabbered with yer rum rib ’bout her Uncle Seamus – clever cull by all accounts.”
No, he hadn’t. This is what he’d missed when he’d been too intent on ignoring her, and he called himself all types of fool, although this did explain how his “rum rib” had invaded his locked chambers to pin a note to his bathing device – the little minx.
Despite Winterbourne making a bodge of it, the lock clicked, and they gingerly poked their heads in.
The place stank to high heaven and all he could make out were barrels stacked to the rafters.
A faint light shone in through high up dirty windows casting a murky grey, but as his eyes adjusted, he could see the warehouse was divided into two sections with a separating wall preventing him from seeing beyond.
