Page 75 of The Princess and the Rogue

“It does. But I don’t care about that. He’s taken the princess.Myprincess.” Seb turned to leave. “Thank you, Your Highness.”

Alex and Benedict entered the library and sent him twin inquiring glances.

“I’m off to Bow Street,” Seb said.

“Now? What’s going on?”

“Petrov has the princess, but I don’t know where he’s taking her. The prisoner we’re holding in the cells will know, though.”

“The one who tried to snatch her from the Tricorn? He’s refused to say anything for the past week,” Alex cautioned.

Seb lowered his brows. “We clearly haven’t been persuasive enough. I’ll make him talk. Are you with me?”

Neither Alex nor Ben hesitated. “Of course.”

“Then let’s go.”

“I have pistols in my carriage,” Alex offered, hard on Seb’s heels as they clattered down the kitchen steps.

“Me too,” Benedict added.

“Good,” Seb said grimly. “You’re going to need them.”

A murderous fury slid through his veins as he headed for the stables. He was going to find Petrov and put a bullet through the blackmailing bastard once and for all. His trusty Baker was back at the Tricorn, but he had a pistol in his saddlebag. It would have to do.

The ride from Grosvenor Square to Bow Street didn’t take long, especially at a gallop, and soon Seb was greeting the night officer on watch at number three.

“Evening, George. We need another talk with our Russian guest.”

The prisoner blinked in sleepy confusion when Seb, Alex, and Ben barged into his cell. Bypassing the usual preliminaries, Seb reached down, hauled him off the hard pallet, and smashed him hard against the wall.

“Where were you supposed to take the princess?”

The Russian sent him a cocky smirk. “Petrov has her, does he?”

Seb punched him in the stomach, and the man doubled over with a surprised “oof.” The chains around his wristsprevented him from retaliating. Seb bent and whispered in his ear, ignoring the rancid smell of the man’s unwashed body.

“I’ll ask you one more time. Where. Is. The. Princess?”

The Russian shook his head stubbornly, and Seb let out a sigh of irritation. “I don’t have time for this.” He turned to Ben and Alex, who were flanking the door. “If he’s not going to tell us anything, there’s no need to keep him alive. Agreed?”

Alex merely shrugged, going along with Seb’s bluff, and Ben did the same. Seb sent up a grateful prayer for having such intelligent friends. Both of them knew he’d never actually kill a man in custody, however great the provocation, but the Russian didn’t know that.

The Cossack let out a surprised gasp. “What? You can’t shoot me.”

“Oh, I can,” Seb growled. “Here in England, lords like us can do pretty much anything we like. If you die, I doubt we’ll get more than a slap on the wrist. In fact, Sir Nathaniel will probably thank me for not burdening Newgate with another inmate.”

Ben gave a dry chuckle. “He’s doing you a favor, believe me. I’ve spent some time in Newgate. Death is better.”

Alex gave an amused snort.

Seb withdrew his pistol, a lead ball, and a powder flask from his jacket pocket, and proceeded to load the weapon with brisk efficiency.

The Russian gave a strangled, disbelieving cry and retreated to the far corner of the cell, his hands raised in front of him in a paltry defense. “Wait!”

Seb poured an exact measure of powder into the pistol’s pan and shook his head as if confused. “I just don’t understand why you’d stay loyal to someone like Petrov. Do you think he cares about you? He’s left you in here to rot for the last week, hasn’t he?” He paused to let thatsink in, then gave a nonchalant shrug. “If it’s any consolation, it’ll be quick. I’m an excellent shot.”

“The best,” Ben chimed in. “You should have seen him in Portugal. He could hit a target at two hundred yards with a wicked crosswind.”

---