He’d acquired a taste for the stuff while working with a team of Americans near the pyramid at Giza. While he’d never preferred the taste to tea, he needed the more powerful brew to substitute for energy this morning. If he had his guess, the day would be long. He had to be alert and focused.
Roderick made his way down the corridor. The doorbell sounded.
Bollocks.Benedict scowled.Who the hell could that be?He was not expecting visitors.
He scowled at the thought. He would have much preferred to reflect on the night before and get to work, not deal with more questions from Colton or his underlings.
The sound of Roderick’s voice as he answered the door made it to Benedict’s ears. The other voice was unfamiliar. He could not make out the man’s words, but the butler’s stilted responses made it clear the visit was not a social call.
Closing the door behind him, he headed to the entry hall just as Roderick escorted the man to the front parlor.
“A courier has arrived,” Roderick said, his forehead furrowed in what seemed a blend of curiosity and irritation. “He says he will only deliver the message to you.”
“Good enough.”
Benedict stepped into the room, observing a scrawny young man dressed in clean, serviceable clothing. His boots were scuffed yet polished, his attire in keeping with a well-off family’s household staff. Was he one of the Quinn family’s coachmen?
The youth paced back and forth over the carpet. Much more of that, and he was likely to wear holes in the pile.
“Lord Marlsbrook,” he said, stopping in his tracks. “I’ve come bearing a message from Miss Quinn.”
The simple statement set him back. “She sent you here?”
“Yes, sir,” the young man said. “She says I’m to give this to you and no one else. She instructed me to await your reply.”
“Very well.” Benedict accepted the envelope, broke the wax seal, and perused its contents. The missive was brief and to the point.
Success.
He rubbed his jaw, processing the revelation. Professor Stockwell had not misled him. The man had not been confused. He had not made an attempt at deception.
Stockwell had stated the truth.
And now, Alexandra had recovered the document.
She had the blasted map.
Bloody hell, she’d found it. He’d always known she was clever. And curious. He’d counted on those qualities to lead her to the map.
Suddenly, a fist twisted in his gut. Had she left herself vulnerable to an even greater danger?
Had she uncovered a document that would put her very life at risk?
God above, had he made a monumental miscalculation?
By hellfire, there was nothing to be done about it now. He would ensure the map did not wind up in the wrong hands.
Once he took possession of the document, the killer’s focus would shift to him. With any luck, she would no longer be a target.
He could take the danger upon himself. He would do that—and more.
Alexandra meant the world to him. He would do anything to keep her safe.
Whatever it took, he would protect her.
Chapter Twenty-One
A blanket of gray clouds darkened the sky as Benedict guided his phaeton to Alexandra’s brick townhouse. The residence had once served as the Quinns’ London home, though the family preferred to spend the majority of their time at their expansive country home. In the last several years, Alex’s sister and brother had gone their own way. Jennie had entered into marriage with Colton while Jeremy pursued his research at Oxford. But Alexandra had nurtured her roots in the city she loved. London suited her, with its museums and libraries and sense of history, its magnificent architecture and culture.
