Page 7 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
Biting back a frustrated sigh, he turned his attention to Gardener and Haddon. “You two.”
“The list of the crimes he was accused of is as long as my entire body, Your Grace,” Haddon said. “I know it’s wrong to speak ill of the dead, but the truth is that he did really bad things. Murder, theft, kidnapping. Some said not even women were safe in his company.”
Thewhohe wanted was being left unanswered, and Edmund let the silence do more pushing, before he realized that he had perhaps hit that stone wall of no further information.
Clenching his fists, he gritted his teeth.
“Utter a word about any of my questions tonight, or my presence, and you shall regret it very, very quickly,” he warned before standing up.
Wide, scared eyes met his, and the men all nodded, terrified into submission.
Fine. He’d keep searching.
Standing up from the table, he left the men to the remainder of their game and strode out of Bracken Inn, trying to keep his frustration banked.
The need for answers boiled inside of him, demanding more and more information on the very man he couldn’t intimidate or reach, no matter how many times he threatened anyone.
James Logan was dead, and no amount of questioning would bring him back, but no amount of digging seemed to give Edmund the answers he was still missing about the vile filth Logan had been.
He had barely made it twenty steps away from the tavern when he heard the light scuff of shoes on the road.
He was being followed.
The steps were too light, too calculated, to be one of the men from earlier. They’d be heavier, he suspected, less smooth. This was a man who knew how to tread lightly when needed.
Edmund didn’t dare glance back, but he felt the prickle of being followed down the back of his neck.
He veered left, instead of right as he needed to in order to return to his townhouse, and rerouted through a maze of alleyways. He turned one way and ducked behind a corner, only to be followed still.
He detoured again through another alley, emerging on the other side and striding past another tavern. His stalker didn’t take the bait and continued trailing him.
He lured him deeper into the shadows before slipping into a dark alcove, letting the darkness hide him as his stalker approached.
Right as the light footsteps got closer, Edmund stepped out, fist already raised.
He’d barely prepared his punch, ready to land the blow, as hands flew up to the other man’s face.
“Easy, Cousin! Lower your fists. Let us speak.”
“Benjamin?” Edmund growled, annoyed at the interruption to his night. “What are you doing, following me?”
His fair-haired cousin, Benjamin Routledge, the Viscount Enthorpe, gave him a nervous smile as he lowered his hands.
“Can a cousin not express concern?”
“You were sneaking around and following me. I do not appreciate it if this is your way of showing concern.”
“I noticed you entered a rather shady place, is all. I wanted to make sure you did not emerge with a split lip or a bruise on those strong features all Hawkes seem to have. Honestly, Edmund, do have some gratitude that is not wreathed in sarcasm. After all, I am not entirely wrong to ensure your safety.”
“I am more than capable of ensuring my own safety, Benjamin,” Edmund shot back. “At one-and-thirty, I can assure you I am most capable of doing that.”
“I am sure you had the same assuredness seven years ago, Edmund.”
At that, Edmund stiffened, his lip curling. “This is not the night to push me.”
“I do not intend it. Only that I worry for you. You only returned to London two months ago, after being gone for seven years. You were very capable at the age of four-and-twenty, but you were still kidnapped.”
Edmund’s hands clenched into fists. “Yes, I have returned, and I shall not speak further on the matter. I am quite fine, and I do not need your help any longer. I understand you handled the dukedom following my father’s death a year ago, but your involvement is no longer necessary.”
