“Ada, don’t make me do that,” Duncan said, though he doubted Lucy would ever ask such a thing. “Tell us his name.”
Ada’s head dropped, and Duncan’s heart sped up. Lucy had broken her.
“I might as well tell you,” Ada murmured. “It’s too late anyway.”
Lucy all but leapt at these words. “Too late how? Is he coming here?”
Ada nodded. “Today was my last chance. He said if I failed, he’d come to do the job himself.”
Lucy glanced at Duncan, who rose. “I should go back to the house and keep guard.”
Ada shook her head. “Too soon. I had until midnight. He’ll receive the news that the boy lives in the morning.”
“He’s close then,” Lucy said, obviously changing tactics and giving up on the man’s name for the moment. “He’s in London?”
Ada nodded.
“You’re a smart girl,” Duncan said. “Why didn’t you run away?”
Ada started crying again. Lucy moved behind her and released her bindings. She held out a hand for Duncan’s handkerchief and gave it to Ada. Apparently, Lucy had decided to put away the harsh interrogator personality. Lucy put an arm about Ada’s shoulders. “Did he threaten your child?”
Ada inhaled sharply and turned to look at Lucy. Duncan realized he was staring at her too. Where had she come by this information? If she was guessing, it was a risky ploy.
“How did you know?” Ada asked.
“I could tell by how loving you were toward Johnny. You have a little boy of your own?”
Ada nodded. “He’s not even one.”
Duncan sat back and slowly let out a breath of air. Thank God Lucy had her talking. Duncan closed his eyes, which burned from exhaustion. He didn’t envy Lucy the next hour or so. She’d have to wheedle every ounce of information from the maid she could.
He’d no doubt she could do it. He felt as though he had watched a master teach a class on the techniques of interrogation. She’d scared the poor girl and just when the maid neared hysterics, Lucy had cut back and offered her sympathy and friendship.
There weren’t words to say how much he admired Lucy right now. He wished he could grab her by the waist and kiss her. He couldn’t stop himself from giving the cot where they’d shared many such kisses a yearning look. The time for stolen kisses was over.
The assassin was coming.
