“I received word that you require my services,” a voice drawled from the shadows directly behind her.
Belle jumped forward with a yelp and doubled over as she caught her breath. Saints’ sakes!
What happened to no fear?
She straightened, tugging at her coat. “Yes. I need you to dispatch someone,” she managed.
A shuffling noise came from behind her and she tamped down the temptation to turn around. She did not dare. Better not to see his face and she’d rather he not see hers.
“Dispatch?”
Her shoulders stiffened at the question in his words. So he wanted her to say the words. Annoyed now, she snapped, “Terminate, finish off, do away with, put to sleep. Choose whichever you are comfortable with.”
A low, throaty chuckle reached her ears. “What did the poor wretched soul do to deserve such an end? A lover? A cruel husband? Or perhaps your lover’s lover?”
Belle scoffed, her earlier fear replaced by chagrin. “Oh, I can assure you, sir, the task will be much more difficult than that. This person that I wish for you to dispatch wishes to see me dead. I mean to see him in the ground first.”
“Is that so?”
Her eyes narrowed in the darkness. Was this some sort of trick? Did he mean to mock her state of affairs? How dare he sound intrigued by her misfortune? His apparent amusement did not bode well for his own well-being. Not against a spy.
Belle almost turned. “I do not take this matter lightly, sir. If you cannot do the same, it will be best if we end this conversation.”
The very night seemed to wait in breathless anticipation as silence met her statement. Not even a slight rustle of leaves was detected. After a gut-wrenching pause, the man simply whispered, “Go on.”
Belle closed her eyes as relief flooded her. “His name is Edgar De Roux and he is a suspected French spy,” she stated flatly, hoping that would wipe the intrigue from his voice.
Again silence met statement.
“Well?”
“How does a lady such as yourself become embroiled with a spy?”
Very foolishly, Belle thought darkly. Then his damning words sank into her mind.
A lady such as yourself.
Perhaps he called all the women he met in dark corners ladies, she considered fleetingly. Yet, had he not requested to meet in Mayfair, not far from where she lived? It seems her identity was suspect.
“He is cunning, resourceful and will not be easy to find nor easy to eliminate. You should take care.”
“You do not have to be concerned for me, my lady.”
She stiffened at his use of the title. It was almost as if he was baiting her. Oh, who was she fooling? It was highly likely he knew her identity. She was operating with people way out of her league.
“My concern is not for you, sir. If you die, he does not. And that, I cannot have.”
She turned around then.
The shadowed figure titled his head at her boldness. He was short but solidly built and wore a cloak much like hers, though his face was cast in the shadow and entirely concealed from her view.
“He will come for me once he learns his previous effort on my life failed. If you cannot catch him on your own, I should be able to lure him out of his hole.”
The stranger seemed to consider her suggestion but then waved her concern away. “You are not afraid to be known to me?”
“You do not strike me as a man that takes on a task without being made aware all the facts. You already knew who I was.”
“Indeed,” he murmured, begrudging respect in his voice.
