Page 70 of Thief Taker

When Kit spoke at last, he was subdued. “I can’t let my brother hold me to ransom,” he said. “I have to stop him, whatever the consequences.”

Elias nodded. He’d not expected anything different. He was uneasy, though. “You realise it’s both your necks you’re risking. Marlborough will likely come after you if you cross him.”

“I know,” Kit said, with a tight smile. “I could hardly risk James’s life and not my own, could I?”

“You could.” Elias swirled the drink around his glass. “If you let me act on your behalf. I’ll get into Salter’s, take the disentailment deed. Keep you out of it.”

In many ways, it would be sensible. It would give Elias the freedom to look for the evidence he needed on Rowsley. And it would take the attention away from Kit, keep him safer.

He doubted Kit would see it that way. When Elias checked to see how he’d taken the suggestion, he was met by a flare of anger behind those too-blue eyes. “I was thinking quite the opposite,” Kit said. “I can’t ask—I won’t ask—you to risk your life for this.”

“You don’t have to ask, I’m offering.”

He huffed, irritated. “Then I forbid it.”

Elias laughed before he remembered who he was meant to be and sobered. “I’m sorry, sir,” he said, and didn’t miss the way Kit flinched at the title. “But if you think I’m letting you go anywhere near that place without me, you’re a bigger fool than I took you for.”

“I’m your master—” Kit broke off with a grimace.

Elias lifted an eyebrow and Kit flushed. That was no longer true; in truth, it had never been true. “I offered to help you,” he said, more gently, “and that’s what I intend to do. I ain’t letting you walk into that viper’s pit on your own.”

Kit was silent for a beat, frowning down at the floor. Eventually, in a low voice, he said, “I don’t want you to be hurt.”

It sounded like a confession. And the sensible part of Elias’s mind told him to back away, to retreat from where this was leading. The rest of him, the beating, feeling heart of him, took a step forward. “I…” He couldn’t quite meet Kit’s eye while he spoke. “I don’t want you hurt, either, si—Kit.” He risked a look and was caught by the other man’s hopeful expression, his heart leaping in response like the bloody fool he was. “Seems like we’re in this together.”

“Yes.” Kit gave one of his barely-there smiles. “I suppose we are.”

Elias lifted his glass. “To victory, then.”

“And to hell with the consequences,” Kit said, and finished his drink in one long swallow.

Chapter 24

Near half-past eleven the following morning, Elias found himself crossing a foggy St. James’s Street at a run, Kit at his side. Then, together, they slipped down the service passage next to Salter’s.

The fog-bound morning made it dim, but not so dark that Elias couldn’t make out the upstairs windows. He walked slowly, searching for what he needed, and then…

“There.” He touched Kit’s arm and pointed. Above them, a small, sashed window had been left slightly open. Below it was a doorway surrounded by a stone arch that made a narrow porch. Perfect. Salter’s was a modern building, the stonework smooth; it would make for a difficult climb, but not an impossible one. Elias had squirmed his way through many an open window in his time.

Nevertheless, he took time to assess. Rushed jobs never went well. “Might be best,” he told Kit eventually, “if you hold my coat and stand watch while I go in.” He shucked off his greatcoat. “Can’t climb wearing this bloody thing.”

There was an eloquent silence from his companion and when he chanced a look, he found Kit watching him through narrowed eyes. “We discussed this last night.”

Elias sighed. He hadn’t expected Kit to agree. “Worth a try,” he said, and folded his coat up instead, setting it atop the end of a broken pallet propped against the wall.

“I’m coming with you,” Kit insisted, slipping off his own coat and laying it over Elias’s.

Should have left them behind, Elias realised as he stared at their coats sitting there, lighting up their intent like a linkboy’s torch. Stupid mistake. He was being careless, distracted. “We—” He tripped over his tongue and stopped.

Kit appeared nothing like himself. He wore an ordinary black wool coat and breeches beneath his greatcoat. His neckcloth was tied in a plain knot. And in the colourless light he was stark, his fog-damp hair falling over his ears and the blue of his eyes more startling for being the only speck of colour in his face.

All of which made him look unnervingly real. No longer Mr. Duvall, he was just a man: accessible, touchable, human.

“I—” Kit glanced down at himself. “These are my, uh, work clothes. More appropriate for housebreaking, I felt.”

“Aye.” Elias’s voice scratched. “You look… Ah, damn it to hell.” Before his brain had time to protest, he’d hauled the bugger in by the lapels of his coat and kissed his cold, willing lips.

Kit’s hands went to Elias’s face, into his hair, like he’d been waiting for an invitation. He tried to follow even when Elias jerked back, one hand to Kit’s chest to hold him at bay.