Page 20 of A Lady's Handbook of Espionage
“Imagine my surprise,” he replied, “when I learned that the estimable Agent Callahan had a visitor yesterday.Two, in fact. And one of them happened to bemy fucking wife.”
Oh, shite. Bollocks.
Fuck.
Of course, Thorne knew about Lady Alexandra’s visit. The bastard was so entrenched in the intimate workings of Whitechapel that a mouse couldn’t shit without him knowing. Someone had probably sent up a signal the instant Lady Alexandra and Miss Dumont set their dainty feet onto the cobblestones. Thorne guarded his estranged bride every time she came into these streets.
From afar, of course.
Callahan braced for impact. “I’m just doing a favour for her friend who had a sister go missing. They hired me to help.”
Thorne’s hand curled into a fist. “You mean to tell me,” he said, each word precise, “that you are now in the employ of my wife. Who hasn’t deigned to speak to me in nearly four years. Who wouldn’t cross the street to piss on me if I was on fire. She asked for you.Specifically. Perfectly content to darken your doorstep and beg favours.”
Alexandra was Nick’s bruise. He’d lied to her, tricked her into marriage to get his hands on the fortune in her trust, and she’d tossed him over the moment she learned the truth. Still, that money had all been put into making Thorne one of the most powerful men in England.
Callahan held up his hands as if he were trying to gentle a rabid dog. Which honestly wasn’t far off. He might dress like a toff, but this was still the same Nick Thorne who fucked and fought his way from the Nichol, honing himself into a walking weapon. He was as feral as they came. Especially for his woman.
“She knows I’ve got connections that might track the chit down,” Callahan said.
“Fascinating.” Thorne’s expression was cold and flat, and that’s when he was most dangerous. “And howdidmy darling wife become intimately familiar with your connections?”
And there was the blade sliding home. Callahan winced, glancing helplessly at O’Sullivan. The other Irishman just shook his head, mouthing, “You’re buggered, mate,” with entirely too much relish.
Callahan blew out a gusty sigh, dragging a hand through his hair. “I may have availed her of my services a few times. She uses sources from the East End for that bleeding heart crusade she calls journalism. I thought if I made myself available and kept an eye on her, she might be less likely to end up with her throat cut in some piss-reeking alley.”
Thorne’s eyes narrowed. “How noble of you. And how long have you beenavailingyourself to my wife?”
Another wince. He’d been hoping to avoid this particular confession. But Nick had always had a way of sniffing out a man’s sorest spot and digging in his claws.
“Two years now,” he admitted. “It started just after some nasty business involving a nobleman. She came round looking for something she could use to pin the bastard’s bollocks to the wall.”
The other man stared at him for a long moment. Then, in a blink, he launched across the room.
Nick’s fist smashed into Callahan’s face. He had half an instant to lick the blood off his lip before the other man slammed him into the wall hard enough to make his teeth rattle.
Christ, but he’d forgotten how strong the bastard was.
“Tell me,” Thorne snarled, leaning in. “Do you service her in other ways as well?”
“Fuck no,” Callahan said. “Christ, Nicky—”
“So instead of turning her away like any sane man would, you decided to become her pet scrounger. Slipping her information that could get her killed ten times over if she barks up the wrong tree.”
Well. He wasn’t wrong. But reasoning with his wife was also like trying to argue with an obstinate, mouthy rock, so what the hell else was he supposed to do?
“Put the man down, Nick,” O’Sullivan said calmly from where he was pouring himself a drink at the sideboard. “You’re going to kill him, and I don’t want the lads to have to clean his guts out of the carpet.”
A thread of sanity in the maelstrom. Callahan dragged in a relieved breath as Thorne’s grip loosened.
“I want an answer from him, Leo,” Thorne said. “I destroyed my wife for all ofusto get out from under Whelan’s boot. So he owes me a fucking explanation.”
Callahan’s own temper was clawing at its fraying tether. Not to mention the headache from overindulgence and Nick’s fist. “I gave her just enough to keep her from winding up a bloody corpse in your streets. If I turned her out on her arse, she’d only run straight to someone with fewer compunctions about keeping her in one piece.”
Something flashed across Thorne’s expression at that. His throat worked as he swallowed, gaze cutting briefly to the side. “I assume you’ve kept our shared past from her.”
“Of course I have. I’d like my liver to stay where it is. As far as your lady is concerned, I’m selling my expertise for a few coins to line my pockets.”
And it was an excellent way to keep his ear to the ground regarding the nobles and their scandals. Lady Alexandra had a rare knack for collecting secrets that made useful leverage.
