Page 54 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
He would get everything out of Thatcher by force if it came to it. He didn’t want it to; the man looked terrified out of his wits, and he didn’t know if Edmund wouldn’t run to one of Logan’s men, claiming Thatcher was spilling every secret.
For all Thatcher knew, Edmund himself could be one of Logan’s men, sent to test him.
But perhaps Thatcher heard the desperation in Edmund’s voice and decided to trust a little more because a name was uttered into the space between them.
“Cyrus Reed.”
Edmund leaned in closer, committing the name to memory.
Thatcher met his gaze hesitantly, trembling. When he spoke again, it was in a whisper.
“Cyrus Reed. Logan was always seen in his company. The two worked closely together, so much so that we all wondered if Reed was his true second-in-command. Nobody could confirm it, not when we were all so ready to turn on one another in the blink of an eye should we need to. Logan had a history of using the Poseidon warehouse down on the docks. Not its real name, of course, but?—”
“A code name for those looking to secure transport of something a little darker across the water,” Edmund finished, nodding.
He had already come across the name while researching Mr. Haddon.
“He used that warehouse for his operations. He would—he would often transport captives via that route.”
Edmund’s stomach lurched. He knew well enough about that.
Julian had mentioned a warehouse, but he hadn’t thought to connect the two. Slowly leaning back, Edmund nodded.
“The Poseidon warehouse has been taken under new ownership recently,” Edmund noted. “A Mr. Armond.”
“It is an alias,” Thatcher said. “Mr. Armond is Cyrus Reed. He owns the warehouse now. It used to be a gimmick—an offering for a good journey, borrowed from mythology. But it is now a front for Reed’s less-savory activities.”
“Give me more,” Edmund pressed.
“That is all I have,” Thatcher said firmly.
Edmund did not detect a lie in his claims.
After a moment, he nodded, standing to his feet. “Then I am grateful for what you have given, Mr. Thatcher. Do keep quiet about meeting me today. I have been generous and patient, do not forget that. However, if you do forget it, I will return, and there will be consequences. I am sure you can imagine what kind.”
He gave the man a menacing smile and bowed out of the room to his eager, pliant nod as he clutched the bags to his chest. “Wait!”
Edmund stopped, glancing over his shoulder, impatient.
“Be careful on this path, about digging into James Logan. It cannot end well if you dig too deeply, for you might find out that the only thing you have dug is your own grave.”
“I already came close to that once,” Edmund countered. “Seven years ago, Logan paid someone to have me kidnapped and shipped off to the Caribbean. Whoever that person was not only took me from my life but also took my very soul. So, no, I will not stop, and I will dig until every part of me bleeds if I have to.”
Without a backward glance, he left, motioning for Benjamin to follow him.
ChapterTwelve
“Ido not suppose Controlwaite will beat Stephen at Pall Mall in our own home, will he?” Mary asked Penelope.
The two of them squinted into the low afternoon sun as Finley and Mary’s husband, Stephen, played Pall Mall on the green in the distance.
“Surely he cannot need powerthatgreat,” Mary added.
Penelope sniggered. “You all must stop calling him that.”
“We will when he stops earning the name,” Mary replied cheekily. She was not as outspoken as Cecilia, but not quite as reserved as Daphne either. “But honestly, look at him. He is practically coaching Stephen on how to play, when he has long been proficient. It is quite condescending.”
Penelope did agree, but she kept her mouth shut.
