Page 17 of When a Lady Desires a Wicked Lord
Benedict cast a glance over his shoulder. As he’d suspected, Alexandra had trailed him. Despite her confidence that the latest man to arrive at her home tonight was her brother-in-law, Benedict could not risk her safety. If someone other than the head of the Colton Agency stood beyond the stout panel, the bloke would have to get past his revolver before he could lay a hand on Alex.
Approaching the door, he motioned Alex away. If this was a trap, he’d take the brunt of the attack.
“Who’s there?” she called out.
“Matthew Colton.” His voice sounded muffled through the heavy oak. “An agent reported the sound of gunfire from this vicinity.”
She slipped in front of Benedict and opened the door. “You’ve no need for concern,” she announced by way of greeting. “I was forced to put my Sharps to good use, but I’m perfectly well.”
Benedict recognized Colton on sight. The London press had plastered theSinister Inspector’slikeness on the front page during the man’s trial for murder. The former Scotland Yard outcast had risen from disgrace to lead a mysterious agency rumored to work directly for the highest-level officials of Buckingham Palace.
Given the scowl on Colton’s face, he’d recognized Benedict as well. How much did he know of his history with Alex? Given the choice between encountering another ruffian of Alfred Rooney’s ilk and the calculating menace in Matthew Colton’s expression, Benedict would’ve preferred to face the dull-witted thug.
“Good evening, Alexandra,” Colton said. “May I come in?”
“Of course,” she said brightly. “I assume you have an idea of what’s happened.”
“Possibly.” Colton was deliberately vague as his attention settled on Benedict. “What in blazes areyoudoing here?”
Holstering his weapon, Benedict held his ground. He’d traveled hundreds of miles to protect Alex. Damned if he was going to let a man who’d scarcely avoided the hangman stare him down.
He met the other man’s glare with a look of nonchalance. “Have we met?”
“Marlsbrook, you know damned well who I am.” Colton entered the townhouse. “The question that must be settled is this—what conceivable reason might you have for entering Miss Quinn’s residence at this bloody hour of the night?”
“Come now, there’s no need to be unpleasant,” Alex said. “Benedict…Lord Marlsbrook…arrived on a rather crucial quest.”
“A quest?” Colton’s eyes narrowed. “What is going on here? An agent interrupted my sleep to inform me that you might be in danger.”
Alex planted her hands on her hips. “Precisely how did this agent come by such information? I trust you have not ordered surveillance of my comings and goings.”
“Nothing of the sort. The agent was on the trail of a criminal, a hired killer suspected in the death of one of Her Majesty’s most trusted couriers,” he explained matter-of-factly. “Informants in Whitechapel indicated the man was near your residence. When she arrived, she could not be certain of the exact location of the shots fired. If she had been able to verify their source, she would have intervened.”
She?So, the Colton Agency employed female agents. Ingenious. Few would suspect that a woman would be investigating a criminal enterprise.
“As it turned out, I was in a bit of a fix, but Marlsbrook…solved the problem.”
“He did, did he?” Colton cocked a dubious brow. “Would you care to explain?”
Alex looked past him, her attention settling on the pair of men who crossed the threshold behind Colton. An ancient specimen of a gent wearing a flat-brimmed cap flashed a snaggle-toothed grin, while the steely eyed young ruffian at his side appeared to survey the layout of the townhouse.
“Why, Bertram, I was not expecting to see you. What a lovely surprise.” She bestowed a beaming smile upon the old man.
“Truth be told, I wasn’t lookin’ to be dragged out of a warm bed to run off to your rescue meself. But anythin’ for ye, Miss Alexandra.”
The young man glared at Benedict. “If there’s a problem, we’re prepared to fix it, Miss Quinn.”
“There was an incident,” Benedict explained, resisting the urge to return his hardened stare. “I took care of it, but your assistance may still prove useful.”
“An incident?” Colton seemed to chew on the word. “What’s happened?”
“Miss Quinn came under attack. I stopped the bastard,” Benedict said, deliberately cool in his tone. A man like Colton thrived on intimidating people. Benedict would not join their ranks.
“My people on the street heard rumors that you were back in town.” Colton looped a thumb under his braces in what seemed a calculated movement. His jacket shifted, bringing his holster and gleaming revolver into view. “Why are you here?”
Benedict kept his attention on the ruffian who continued to watch him beneath hooded lids.
“Is the young lout with you?” Benedict asked.
