Velvet Embrace (46 page)

"Perhaps they didn't want an investigation if you were killed."

"Or perhaps the deed to the land in France is what stopped them. They can only get the deed from me. It must be important to whoever hired them."

The two men were silent for a time, each thinking
his own
thoughts. Finally Dominic grinned. "Are you certain you want me to stand as godfather to your daughter?"

Jason's blue eyes danced with humor as he rose to take his leave. "You wouldn't dare think of backing out now, would you? Lauren would never forgive you—or me either, for that matter. We've set the christening date for Saturday next. Surely you can stay alive long enough to attend."

"I'll manage somehow."

"From that look on your face, I'd say
Germain
may not be so fortunate. I wouldn't care to be in his shoes tomorrow. Although I must admit I am looking forward to seeing what methods you employ to loosen his tongue."

Dominic's mouth twisted sardonically. "Haven't you guessed? I shall simply lock him in a room with you while you expound on the joys of fatherhood. In less than an hour,
Germain
will be begging for mercy.
Nine o'clock tomorrow, then?"

Dominic rose early the next morning and ordered his curricle brought around. When he arrived at Lord Manning's office in Whitehall, he was shown into a tiny room where an elderly clerk greeted him.

"I regret that his lordship is not here at present," the clerk said, rising from behind his desk, "but I have been instructed to aid you. Please be seated. Now where did I put the file? Ah, here it is," he muttered, shuffling through his stack of papers.
"Strange case, strange case."

When at last he turned, he found Dominic watching him impatiently. Unnerved by the cool intensity of his visitor's gaze, the clerk cleared his throat. "I have an assistant, my lord, who spends a good deal of time in the local taverns where he gleans bits of information here and there. A few weeks ago he came to me with an interesting story which, only recently, I decided might have some bearing on this case. My man overheard—well, perhaps it would be better if he told you himself.
If you could wait one moment please."

He left the office and returned a short time later, followed by a rough-looking character whom he introduced merely as Tom. "Tom, tell Lord Stanton, if you please, what you learned at the
Boarshead
tavern."

Tom took a moment to look over the dark-haired lord,
then
broke out in a grin, showing a gaping hole where his front teeth had been. "So
yer
the one they
was
after. It
ain't
no
wonder then." His grin disappeared when Dominic's eyes narrowed.

"Well, you see," Tom hastened to explain, "I was at the
Boarshead
when this cove comes in an' starts
drinkin
'
. '
Ee
was
drownin
' '
is sorrows
, like. I didn't give '
im
much mind first off, till '
ee
starts to say something about them
Frenchies
. So I
starts
to listen."

"This 'cove'," Dominic interjected. "Was he named
Boulter
, by any chance?"

"
Yeh
, Freddie
Boulter
. '
Ow'd
you know?" When there was no reply, Tom decided it best to get on with his story. "Well,
Boulter
was drunk as a fiddler an' '
ee
didn't make much sense. Seems there was a swell what was to do for you, but '
ee
got done for '
imself
. So
Boulter
was
cryin
' about '
avin
' to go off an' finish the job." Tom gave Dominic another gap-toothed grin. '"
Ee
didn't finish it, did '
ee
?"

"
Boulter
is dead."

It was said so calmly that Tom shifted his feet uncomfortably. "Well, I don't
s'pect
anyone will miss the likes of '
im
."

"What about the reference to France?" Dominic asked.

"
Yeh
, well, the
nob
what '
ired
Boulter
and the swell, '
ee
came from France. But I don't think '
ee
was a Frog. '
Ee
was
Hinglish
, with a title.
Didn't catch it, though.
Boulter
said the
nob
was touched in the upper works."

"Do you suppose this '
nob
' is still in England?"

"No, '
ee
ain't
, if '
ee
ever came in the first place. You see,
Boulter
only got part of the brass till the job was done. '
Ee
was
wonderin
' '
ow
'
ee
was to get the rest, with the
nob
across the Channel and the swell
havin
' disappeared, like."

"I will need an address, a location in France. Could you get it for me?"

Tom grinned again. "
Boulter
won't
be
needin
'
it, will '
ee
? I'm
yer
man,
gov'nor
. . .
er
. . . milord."

Dominic tossed him a coin. "Watch out for
Boulter's
brother while you're at it. Martin, I think is his name. I understand he enjoys making people scream." Rising then, Dominic directed the clerk to send any new information to his
town address and left the office.

Tom remained where he was, stroking the dark stubble on his chin. "
Cor
," he said to no one in particular. "Good thing that
nob
from France didn't 'ire me to do 'is dirty work. I don't think I'd be
standin
' 'ere now."

When Dominic brought his horses to a halt before the
Effing
residence, Jason was waiting. He grinned as he climbed into the curricle.
"Wouldn't do to let Lauren see you.
Not unless you want to spend the next hour admiring our daughter."

It didn't take them long to reach the house where
Germain
was being held—a small, white structure a few miles north of town. They were greeted by a grim-faced housekeeper. "But you'll be
wanting
to see Mr.
Germain
, no doubt," she said, directing them up the stairs.
"This way, if you please."

She led them to a closed door at the end of a corridor, where a brawny, dark-featured man was standing guard. Withdrawing a heavy key from her pocket, the housekeeper unlocked the door and stepped aside to admit the gentlemen. Dominic made no comment as he followed Jason into the room, but he noted the elaborate precautions with approval, including the heavy bars on the window.

Germain
was lying on the bed, his eyes closed. The thick bandage wrapping his chest, as well as his sickroom pallor, indicated that he was recuperating from a severe injury. He didn't bother to look up when they entered.

"Morning, old man," Jason said
cheerfuly
. "Lovely day, isn't it?" When
Germain
gave an indignant grunt, Jason clicked his tongue. "Come now, you can do better than that. I've brought you a surprise."

The injured man opened one eye. Catching sight of Dominic, he sat up abruptly, clutching at his bandage while his color turned a shade
more pale
.

"Hello, Charles," Dominic said in a dangerously soft voice. When
Germain
only stared at him warily, Dominic raised an eyebrow. "What is this? Have your manners gone begging, Charles? Are you not going to invite me to be seated?"

"Oh, to be sure,"
Germain
snarled, indicating the chair beside the bed. "After all, I am your prisoner, am I not?"

Turning the chair around, Dominic straddled the seat and casually draping his arms over the back. Then he pursed his lips as if considering a difficult problem. "That depends. I have several alternatives. Would you care to hear them?"

"I expect you plan to tell me, regardless."

Dominic remained unruffled. "My first is to turn you over to the authorities for attempted murder," he said coolly. "You might escape hanging, but a man recovering from a chest wound such as yours would not long survive a London prison."

Germain
relaxed back against the pillows, his mouth curling in a sneer. "You won't have me arrested. That would implicate you as well, and you have far too much to lose."

"Did I say anything about a duel? Actually I was referring to the two ruffians you hired to kill me."

Charles was suddenly wary again. "You have no proof."

Dominic's lips twisted in a slow smile. "Ah, but I do. Before he died, your friend Freddie
Boulter
implicated you in front of a number of witnesses."

"
Boulter
is dead?" Charles asked
,
his tone sounding less assured.

"Quite dead.
That is my second alternative for you, by the way. You were accosted by highwaymen, so the story goes, and were severely wounded. You were brought here to recover, but alas, you succumbed to a fever. Of course I mean to show profound grief at your death. I'll vow that I did everything in my power to save you. . . . But perhaps I needn't say anything at all. No one knows you are here. As far as the world is concerned, you disappeared three weeks ago. And I'm sure the good man waiting just outside your door could be persuaded to dispose of your body."

Germain
said nothing, but there was a look of burning hatred in his eyes. Dominic returned his gaze steadily, his own eyes as hard as flint. "Then there is always torture," he remarked blandly, "but that can be rather distasteful, wouldn't you agree?" Dominic flicked an imaginary speck of dust from his coat sleeve. "The last alternative might be more appealing to you, though I confess I don't care for it much. You can go free."

Seeing the flicker of interest in
Germain's
eyes, Dominic bent closer, his gray gaze holding
Germain's
like a moth with pinned wings. "I want the name of the man who hired you to kill me."

Germain
licked his suddenly dry lips and involuntarily glanced at Jason for help. The tall
marquess
stood with his back to the room, looking out the window, ignoring the scene being enacted behind him.
Germain
returned his gaze to Dominic. "No," he said defiantly, determined to brazen it out.

Dominic stood up slowly. "Don't tell me you have suddenly developed a streak of loyalty, Charles.
Remarkable.
I never would have thought you capable of it. Jason, are you coming?"