Page 71 of Claimed By Her Forbidden Duke
Edmund glared at him. “No. James Logan did, and it was for the worst reasons—namely, begging for my life if I did not obey his orders.”
The drawing room was quiet for a moment as Julian grimaced.
“You see why I am growing desperate. I cannot simply move on, Julian. The things that man had me to do to others… it was terrible. I have nightmares, and I get sick just thinking about it sometimes. I did what he told me to, and I became a monster, like him. Trying to return to this life is disconcerting, and I have entertained joining a boxing club just… just to feel steady again. I will not, for I cannot look back and be the man who spoke with his fists instead of his words unless necessary. I will not give in to the monster Logan created out there, but Iwillinsist that you help me.”
“I think this is the most vulnerable you have ever been with me, Edmund.” Julian looked stunned, as if he did not realize just how close to darkness Edmund toed.
A dark rage simmered beneath Edmund, bred over years of giving in to that cloud of shadow to survive. He fought to keep it at bay night after night, and had found that the only times it was chased away was when he laid eyes on Penelope.
He dragged his thoughts away from her quickly, lest his friend see anything else on his face. He already felt too exposed.
Julian exhaled when Edmund only answered with silence. “Very well. Reed is not only a crime overlord but he is also rumored to be connected to the ton. I do not know entirely in what way. Perhaps he is a lord himself and acts under a well-crafted disguise in the underground. Either way, he knows how to infiltrate spaces and blend in exceptionally well.”
Suddenly, every face of every suitor Arabella had spoken to, may have locked eyes with, flashed through Edmund’s mind. “Do you know the name he uses in the ton?”
Julian shook his head. “Why do you ask about him?”
“I believe that he could be connected to the man who had me kidnapped for Logan.”
Edmund knew he was on the right path when Julian frowned, his delicate, boyish features that every lady swooned over pulled together in a troublesome, thoughtful expression.
“Edmund, if that is indeed the case, then you are in deeper waters than ever. I warned you last time?—”
“And as I said, I will not stop. You gave me Thatcher’s name, and he’s given me Cyrus Reed and the Poseidon warehouse.”
Julian’s face paled, but he nodded. “I cannot stop you, I know that. You think that because you were taken once, you will not face danger, but it still lurks. The ton is far darker than you know—than evenIknow, and I deal in dirty money at times. Mostly high-end clients, yes, but it has not always been that way. I have learned a thing or two about my own safety.”
“As have I,” Edmund promised. “I will be safe.”
“You will be reckless and chase these leads like a hound who has caught a scent.”
Edmund laughed, for between Arabella and Julian, he was being read as well as he read others. “The scent has long since overwhelmed me, Julian. It has sunk into every pore, commands my every movement, and I could not shake it off even if I wanted to.”
Julian’s voice was low when he said, “And that is why you survived James Logan. Because you fought your way out to survive, and you will not rest until you have your vengeance.”
“Exactly.”
“Just… do what you need to, but please exercise caution. These men do not care for lords who think that a title protects them. You can fight beyond your words and back yourself up, but they will not know that at first.”
Edmund’s eyes flashed. “That makes it all the more thrilling.”
Julian snorted, and the tension of mentioning their darker pasts eased a little. “Now that you are here in my abode, I must use the opportunity to ask you about Lady Penelope, and to further ask why you have withheld some gossip from me.”
A surprised laugh slipped from Edmund. “Gossip. Where on earth did you hear anything regarding Lady Penelope and I, you gossipmonger?”
“Oh, do not be coy and deny it—it is out of character for you,” Julian snorted, eyeing him knowingly over his glass of brandy.
Oddly enough, it was quite nice to be around someone who did know him, and who expected little of him other than to simply be himself. No mask, no pretenses, no forced smiles. Just two men trying to make peace with their pasts in different ways.
“And of course, I am a gossipmonger. It comes with my profession.”
Edmund rolled his eyes, polishing off his drink. “Is that so?”
“You are dancing around my question, Edmund.”
“And you are dancing around mine,” he countered.
Julian waved his glass in atouchésort of way. He stood up, swiping Edmund’s glass to get refills. As he did, Edmund looked around the elegant drawing room. It was heavily luxurious in a way one might expect of an escort with funds to burn. Dark, heavy curtains brushed the burgundy floor, and velvet, navy settees were pressed to adjacent walls. Dark wooden doors ensured that certain rooms remained off-limits to clients and allowed Julian to have privacy while still showing off his wealth.
