Page 78 of One Wicked Secret
A knot formed between her brows. “What about my father’s failed investments and the men he accuses of fraud?”
Daventry braced his hands on the desk. “Just another attempt to distract you from the real issue at hand. A warning to leave the ghosts of the past buried.”
“When a man faces ruin, little else matters,” Daniel agreed.
Daventry straightened and glanced at the mantel clock. “We can discuss it at length tonight. I have an appointment at Whitehall and cannot be late. Meet me outside The Salty Gull at ten. The tavern is aptly named. The landlord is an ill-tempered sort. Though most men spill their guts when you press a knife to their throat.”
“I plan to join you,” Elsa stated, raising her chin defiantly.
Daniel stiffened. This woman toyed with his nerves like a cat with a half-dead mouse. “A dockside alehouse is no place for a lady.”
“As I said last night, I’ve spent too long living in ignorance. I want to fight for my future. And that means facing the truth, no matter how painful.”
A swell of pride rose in his chest—she had every reason to run, just as Magnus had, yet she remained steadfast. “Well, you do boast axe throwing amongst your many accomplishments.”
She could add kissing and lovemaking to that list, too.
“I’m equally skilled with a blade.”
Daniel couldn’t help but smile. “I’m sure you are.”
“You’ll need the threat of death for those drunken fools at The Salty Gull to squeal,” Daventry said with a chuckle.
“I do have another trick up my sleeve. If all else fails, you’ll be surprised what you can purchase for two shillings.”
Edwin Hawthorne, Solicitor
Ironmonger Lane, near Cheapside
Mr Hawthorne’s office occupied a narrow building on Ironmonger Lane. City grime had left a film of dirt on the windows and brick facade. The worn cobblestones reflected a street steeped in history, a busy thoroughfare used by clerks, errand boys and tradesmen pushing carts.
With a bemused expression, Elsa stared at the metal signboard creaking as it swung in the wind. “I wonder why my father hid evidence here. Are you sure there’s no mistake?”
Daniel checked the address on the piece of paper he took from his pocket. “This is the right place. Judging by what we know about your father’s dealings with Charmers, he visited this solicitor months before he died.”
“I recall him taking a trip to London when he was ill. He refused to let Magnus accompany him.” She stared at the black lion-head knocker as if the beast might bite her. “Rundle & Co. in Fleet Street always handled his legal affairs. Why not trust them?”
He slipped his arm around her waist. The tension between them had eased since making love last night. Conversation flowed with warm familiarity. Yet the slightest touch stirred his desire, a slow-burning need that refused to be tempered.
“Well, we won’t find answers if we continue lurkingoutside.” He hammered the iron knocker against the plate and waited.
A silent moment passed before he tried again.
A weak, croaky voice shouted, “Enter. The door is unlocked.”
Despite a brief struggle with the swollen door, he pushed it open and led Elsa into a small hallway where musty dampness clung to the air.
“In here,” the fellow called from the small office on the right. “Come in. Come in. I spare my legs any unnecessary journeys these days.”
An elderly man with white hair and intelligent blue eyes sat behind a cluttered desk. He scanned their attire and smiled. “I rarely see anyone without an appointment.”
“We have an appointment,” Daniel replied, confident the solicitor had anticipated their visit. “Though there will be no record in your diary.”
“Ah, a riddle. I’ll need a little more context.”
“We believe you’re the keeper of secrets,” Elsa said, glancing at the shelves of dusty tomes, some spines cracked due to age.
He steepled his fingers, his gaze sharpening with intrigue. “Some might say I’m the keeper of burdens, a protector of fears.”
