The night swallowed him. No starlight or moonbeams were strong enough to push through the overwhelming fog. He walked faster in the darkness between streetlamps.
Tonight had been unprofitable. He’d learned nothing of Lord Gresham, and the party had learned much about William. After dinner, the ladies had withdrawn to the sitting room for tea, and the gentlemen had remained at the table while a footman delivered stronger drinks.
William had declined his goblet of sherry.
Colonel Nagel and Lord Livingstone, however, imbibed more than one as they spoke of politics and press gangs and new military developments.
Then, as Lord Livingstone had drained the last drop of his third sherry, he turned to William. Deliberately, throughout the last half hour, the man had avoided William in every conversation, as if to worsen his sense of unwelcome.
Colonel Nagel, a stout gentleman with a greying queue, had done the same.
But in one swift moment, Lord Livingstone’s full attention had narrowed in on William with a forceful stare that was likely meant to intimidate.
It didn’t.
“At the risk of being disrespectful to the lady of the house, let me impart one warning to you, Mr. Kensley.”
William had nodded him on.
“Just because Lord Gresham is away does not mean you may take advantage of his daughter by insinuating yourself into her company. You are, of course, but a complete stranger—and I shall take the liberty of ensuring you remain so.”
“My business with his lordship makes me more attached to Miss Gresham than you might think.” William had stood and removed his napkin. “As for how well we become acquainted, I believe that decision belongs to the lady herself.” He had left then without goodbyes to anyone, and the demeaning threats of Lord Livingstone still rankled his nerves as he walked the streets.
Who did the man think he was? Was Miss Gresham affianced to him? Had Lord Gresham sanctioned such a match?
Yet another reason to dislike his father.
Ahead, windows glowing white in the blackness, The Silver Lynx Inn finally neared. William increased his speed, reached for the door—
“I wouldn’t go in there if I was you.”
Blood rushing to his face, William jerked to the voice in the darkness. He groped for the gun in his trousers, but a shadow flew forward and smacked the weapon from his hand.
Metal clattered to cobblestones at the same time his heart clattered to a stop.
“Follow me if you wants to stay a-breathing.”
“Who are you?”
“Hurry up before I change me mind.” After swooping the pistol from the ground, the shadow grabbed William’s arm and urged him forward. “Me hackney’s waiting over there. Get in and stay low.”
That voice. The jarvey?
Panic hollowed William’s stomach, but he climbed into the carriage and stayed put when the wheels lurched into motion. This was a trap. Whoever had whispered to the jarvey in the public room this morning had paid him to deliver William in the dead of night.
He could jump out now and face his assailant when he was less aware.
Or he could find out who wanted him dead.
Sooner than he thought, the hackney pulled to a stop in an alley black as sin. The door jerked open and the jarvey scrambled inside, breathing hard, whipping the hat from his head. “You best be thanking me saintly wife for this.”
“For what?”
“Your life, for one.” The jarvey fidgeted then dropped himself onto the carriage floor. “Just in case we was followed. Don’t wants to get me head blowed off for—”
“What’s this about?”
“Get down here.”
