Page 80 of The Wayward Duke
Pritchard just whimpered in reply.
“No? Not talkative yet? Last chance,” Wentworth warned. He thumbed back the pistol hammer again. The dark eye of its barrel hovered inches from Pritchard’s left kneecap. “What’s Kellerman planning? I could shoot you, or I could let Hastings take you apart piece by piece, but somehow, I think the bullet might be a mercy.”
Sweat slicked Pritchard’s face. “He didn’t tell me anything.”
Wentworth’s finger tightened on the trigger. “Hm. That’s a shame. Going to be a bugger getting around with two ruined knees. Rather not make the lads drag you out of here. Maybe I’ll shoot your hand instead?” His eyes slid to Julian in invitation. “Hastings?”
Rage seethed beneath Julian’s skin. “I’ll bloody remove it.”
Pritchard broke. “I just helped with the con, I swear it! His motives were his own.”
Julian’s jaw clenched. As much as he might relish watching the blackguard squirm, it was clear Kellerman didn’t trust anyone with his vendetta. “Did he keep papers here?”
Pritchard bobbed his head. “Aye. Rooms were always locked. Hid things.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know where,” he said, licking his lips. “He didn’t show me.”
Wentworth narrowed his gaze. “Lads? Take him for me. We’ll see if he conveniently remembers anything tonight.”
At his word, the men dragged a whimpering Pritchard off, leaving a glistening crimson trail behind him. Julian watched him go, lip curled in disgust. Let him suffer. He’d earned far worse than a bullet to the leg.
Julian proceeded with Wentworth through the rooms, searching for hidden latches or secret caches concealed in the walls and floorboards. But their hunt turned up nothing. Until—
“Wait.” Wentworth’s sharp bark split the heavy silence. “You smell that?”
Julian focused his senses. Beneath the clinging stench of mould and decay, he detected it too. Faint yet unmistakable. Kerosene.
Their gazes locked. Wentworth pointed to the far wall shared with the next building, and they moved to the scarred wainscoting. Wentworth’s fingers danced over the panels until pausing over one section.
A whisper of draft teased Julian’s face – a hidden latch.
With grim purpose, Wentworth eased his blade beneath the warped edge. The concealed door popped open on protesting hinges, exposing the darkness within. The stench of lamp oil intensified. Moonlight slanted through the small window to limn the battered surface of a humble writing desk tucked against the far wall.
The papers scattered on the desk pulled Julian like gravity – but just as his boot touched down inside, Wentworth’s grip locked on his shoulder, yanking him short.
“Careful. Remember what I said about Her Majesty wearing my bollocks for earrings?”
Bloody hell. Julian had nearly blundered straight into the windowless room. Into what was likely a deathtrap.
“Wait here,” Wentworth said. The spymaster slipped into the dark room beyond the doorway – barely a whisper of clothing to mark his passage.
The next moments passed in taut silence as Julian waited, poised on the threshold. He tensed at each floorboard creak as Wentworth conducted his unseen investigation, nerves straining for any cue to action. Finally, the faint scrape of a match sounded, followed by Wentworth’s muttered satisfaction.
“Clever bastard.” His gruff voice echoed against the hidden room’s walls. “Rigged the lamp to erupt if moved without disarming the mechanism first. Amateur work, but enough to kill us both if we didn’t notice the tripwire. It’s on the floor just there, Hastings. Ease over it.”
Julian released a slow breath and stepped over the thin wire suspended above the floorboards. Inside the tiny study, the anaemic flame illuminated a jumble of books and papers strewn across the desk. He catalogued the materials – leather-bound ledgers full of numbers, rolled documents that looked to be maps or blueprints. And beneath it all, a smaller folded letter sealed in wax and addressed to him in bold, arrogant strokes.
His stomach twisted at the sight of the taunt – Kellerman had expected Julian to find this place. Reluctantly, he broke the seal.
Be seeing you again, duke. I hope you enjoy yourself with your wife.
Wentworth grunted. “A dark part of me wonders if he’s moved beyond his vendetta to tormenting you specifically.” He surveyed the letter, face grim. “If so, finding his old targets means nothing. He wants you as his new plaything.”
Julian shuffled through the documents, discarding anything nonsensical. “I’ll review these with Caroline and see if we can find anything of use.”
Wentworth nodded. “I’ll have my men patrol. See if they find him that way.”
