The conte’s dark eyes turned sinister. “I want what is mine. One way or another, you will be on my ship when we sail, madam.”
Lawton laughed. “You’ll have to let her go. The conte’s brothers will come to his aid. Aaron isn’t strong enough to defend you against an Italian invasion.”
“Then you don’t know my brother,” Christian said with a deep sense of pride. Aaron had a backbone of steel. “He’d die for his cause.”
“His cause is guarding his family.” Lawton’s arrogant grin grated. “Without you, he’s nothing. You’re the chink in his armour. He loses a brother, he loses everything.”
There was truth to Lawton’s claim.
They were strong together. Nothing when torn apart. Aaron lived to protect them, as he had done long before they were dragged from their home in the dead of night. He’d fought bare-knuckle brawls, suffered many beatings, not to pay their father’s debts, but to prevent Aramis being a target.
“You underestimate our skill in battle,” Aramis growled. “We control a hidden army. Half thetonwould join us in a war if we agreed to wipe their debts.”
From the flicker of uncertainty in Lawton’s eyes, he’d overlooked the desperation of men destined for the Marshalsea. “Hand my daughter over, and we can avoid any conflict.”
Lawton’s disregard for his family reminded Christian of his own father. The reprobate hadn’t given a damn about his children either.
“I told you. We’re betrothed. I am marrying Miss Lawton.” Christian ignored his brother’s muttered curse. “I’m as loyal as my brothers. Nothing you could say or do would convince me to betray her.”
The conte signalled to the man behind, who whipped out a pistol. Before he could cock the hammer, Gibbs had the muzzle of his own weapon pointed at the conte’s head.
“I’ve no qualms pulling the trigger.” Gibbs’ nose wrinkled while observing the conte’s lace cravat. “I’m paid to see my clients safely home. Even if it means shooting a canary.”
The Conte di Barasian froze. “One click of my fingers, and I can have twenty men here ready to fight.”
“I’ve never seen a dead man click his fingers,” Gibbs mocked. “And if you mean those drinking in the Grapes, you should know I grew up on this street. Everyone supping ale here tonight knows which side to choose.”
As if to prove the point, the man with the scarred face appeared in the tavern doorway. The steel blade in his hand glinted in the darkness.
Lawton’s cheeks ballooned as he struggled to contain his fury. “This isn’t the end of the matter. We’ll continue this conversation soon.”
Christian considered pulling his own weapon and finishing this fool for good. But Aaron had stressed the need to attack only when one could prove self-defence. Unless, of course, there were no witnesses. Still, he couldn’t help but feel Aaron was watching from the shadows.
“I suggest you return to the carriage, Lawton, and take your pompous friend with you.” Christian felt a brief rush of satisfaction as he watched the men retreat. He kept them in his sights while praising his coachman. “Remind me to pay you a bonus, Gibbs.”
“I’ve my own reasons for threatening blackguards. Watching a nabob squirm is payment enough.” Gibbs beckoned his scarred accomplice forward. “This is Pretty Pete. I used to dunk his head in a water trough to see how long he could last without breathing. He has news about Snell and the warehouse.”
Christian watched Lawton’s unmarked vehicle drive past and disappear along Narrow Lane. Still seething, he prompted Pete to continue.
“Lord Oldman owns a warehouse near Rope Walk,” Pete said, his gritty voice as menacing as his scar. He returned the blade to the leather sheath fastened around his waist. “Captain Snell rents it for a small fee.”
Recovering after the conte’s threat, Isabella was quick to make a suggestion. “We need to look inside the warehouse. Hopefully, we will find clues to explain what’s going on there.”
Pete looked over his shoulder before saying, “I’m told the place is empty. That they’ve moved the crates. Snell’s focusing on getting his ship seaworthy for the voyage to Norway.”
Christian frowned—a pang in his gut said they were missing a vital clue. “So what were the Conte di Barasian and Geoffrey Lawton doing near Rope Walk? Their prompt arrival suggests they had business inside one warehouse.”
Pretty Pete shrugged.
“The men who warned them ain’t from around here,” Gibbs said. He looked Christian in the eye. “Daventry said I must take orders from you tonight. If you want to check the warehouses, I can gather a few men.”
This was exactly what Christian had signed up for when he’d agreed to help Lucius Daventry. A means of proving himself. A means of convincing Aaron to slacken the reins.
Aramis put his hand on Christian’s shoulder. “I’m at your beck and call, brother. I’ll do whatever you ask.”
Christian grinned. “Then be nice to Miss Lawton. Once we enter the warehouse, I need to know you’ll protect her.”
Aramis inclined his head. “I can see she’s important to you.”
