Page 60 of When a Lady Kisses a Scot
He shook his head, the granite hardness of his features making it clear he would not be swayed. “We must take all measures needed to ensure your safety. I am well aware of his previous medium’s disappearance.”
“I have no reason to fear Trask.”
Colton frowned. Had he detected the lie in her words? The man’s ability to read the tone of one’s voice and the expression in one’s eyes was blasted uncanny.
“I’ve had misgivings about putting you in this position since the start of the case. These doubts are not rooted in any question of your competence. The danger is simply too great.”
She came to her feet and stared down at him. Frustration churned within her. “I am a trained operative. Shouldn’t I be the one to make the final decision as to the risks I’m prepared to take?”
Colton stood, his expression somber. “If you were hurt, Jennie would never forgive me. And frankly, I doubt I could grant my conscience a reprieve should any harm come to you.”
“Give me more time… I can find the answers you need.”
“That is not advisable. We have not been able to deduce which is the greater threat—Trask or Stanwyck—but your involvement in this mission has come to an end.”
Chapter Eighteen
Well, she’d certainly made a muddle of her assignment, hadn’t she? Sophie sank into a corner chair in her cramped boardinghouse room, staring down at the lukewarm tea in a chipped porcelain cup. The mission to uncover Trask’s role in the deaths had offered her the best chance to prove herself. Instead, she’d compromised her role—and over a man like Gavin Stanwyck, no less.
Colton had assured her that her skill—or lack of it—had not played a part in his decision to pull her from the case. But she knew better, even if he didn’t. She’d allowed Stanwyck to distract her from the core focus of her assignment. She’d been careless. She’d let emotions that had no business in her investigation get the better of her.
And for that, she could not forgive herself.
By Athena’s bloomers, she should not have allowed herself to be drawn to Gavin. Her attraction to the man had jolted her off course, if only just a bit. Such a foolish, naive mistake.
Setting the tea aside, she moved to her trunk and opened it. Colton had made arrangements for her to take refuge in a secure hotel far from London, answering to yet another name. At least she’d been allowed to keep her first name, ordinary as it was. She might never return to the ramshackle but comfortable boardinghouse that had been her home for three years.
Peculiar, how the realization caused a twinge of pain in the area of her heart. The relocation was necessary. She could not dispute the danger she faced. Trask knew this place, and she’d trustingly—no, foolishly—revealed the location of her residence to the man she’d believed to be a constable on patrol. As long as she stayed here, the brutes who’d come after her would know where to find her. There simply was no choice.
She gathered her books, sparing a moment to glance through a dog-eared volume her grandfather had given her on her seventh birthday, a weighty tome filled with illustrations of ancient treasures. As a girl, she’d dreamed of expeditions and explorations amid mysterious tombs. Perhaps she’d ask Colton to send her out of the country. Egypt would certainly put her out of the ruffians’ reach.
The way her luck had run recently, perhaps she’d encounter Stanwyck at the foot of the Sphinx. Would he greet her with that infuriating half smirk of his, or would his eyes still betray the wound she’d inflicted with her cutting insinuation?
Snatching up a prim white blouse, she placed the silk garment in the trunk. She’d acquired several lovely ensembles during her time as a reporter for theLadies’ Pages, a necessity for covering fashionable galas and lush society affairs. Had her time at theHeraldalso come to an end?
She had known when she went undercover as Trask’s assistant that she might need to go into hiding. At the time, she’d dismissed the risks. Another colossal mistake.
A lump seared her throat. She swallowed hard against it. Blast it, she would not weep.
She folded a wool skirt and stored it in the trunk. A wave of despair swelled in her chest. She’d been so confident, playing the role of Sophie Devereaux with a flourish. She’d gained the charlatan’s trust, and it had seemed a matter of time before the vicious criminal McNaughton would let down his guard and reveal a secret or two. She’d maintained a precise focus on the mission. Until Gavin Stanwyck had strolled into Trask’s studio and upended her carefully laid plans.
Stanwyck’s warning played in her mind. Her thoughts swirled with doubt and fear she couldn’t wish away. Even locked in a luxurious room, she’d feel like a prisoner. There was no guarantee she would not share her predecessor Lady Valentina’s fate. Whoever had sent the thugs after her had blunt to spare. Gaining access to a public hotel, no matter how well guarded, would not prove an insurmountable challenge to a determined criminal.
If someone wanted her dead, she’d best be prepared to defend herself.
How very ironic that Gavin had warned her of a possible threat—he’d wanted to protect her, a woman to whom he’d spoken no vows or sweet promises, a woman he bore no responsibility to defend. And now, she knew he was in danger. Yet she stood here, milling about this room, preparing to leave London and everyone she cared about, in an effort to save her own skin.
Colton had assured her that Scotland Yard would soon be on the case. Any threat from Trask would be held firmly in check by the operatives he’d assigned. By now, the agents had taken their positions, set to observe the fraud’s every move. If he went after Gavin, their intervention would be swift and decisive.
Her confidence in Matthew Colton was unwavering. Brilliant and coolheaded, he’d faced down many a threat. In his role as director of the agency, he’d demonstrated an unparalleled strategic ability. She’d never before questioned his judgment. Yet, she could not abide his edict that she play no role in alerting Stanwyck.
If she defied Colton…if she went after Gavin on her own…the director would likely relieve her of her duties to the Crown. Perhaps permanently. She could not go against his orders.
If only the nagging harpy of her conscience did not demand she do precisely that.
How could she live with herself if the agents failed…if Gavin were harmed? Or killed?
Stuffing a few more garments inside the trunk, she uttered an epithet as she fought to close the overfilled container. Making her way through a clutter-strewn floor, she went to the window. A carriage waited below, prepared to take her to a safe haven.
