Page 111 of Her Beast

Smith went on, “Patterson doesn’t engage in any sort of gothic quackery with his patients although he does adhere to the maxim that a heavily sedated patient is a tractable one.”

Malcolm could only shake his head, too disgusted for words.

“The first name on the list is the solicitor who drew up the agreement.” Smith’s smile was unpleasant. “It seems to me that a man who didn’t inform his own client of the law deserves some sort of… correction.”

“I couldn’t agree more. The second name?”

“Harlow’s man of business. Just in case you were interested in doing something about the upcoming sale of Brookfield.”

Malcolm smiled, and he knew it wouldn’t be pretty. “Fortunately, there is just enough time to pay both men a visit and spread some Christmas joy.”

“Will you say anything to Harlow?”

“I don’t know—it might be better to surprise him. In any case, I’m going to see him tonight.” When Smith merely nodded, Malcolm narrowed his eyes. “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“Just keeping a helpful eye—and ear—out for you, Malcolm.”

“Onme, is more like it. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that it’s impolite to spy on your friends?”

Smith laughed, but the humor drained away quickly. “Be careful tonight, Malcolm. The man is a snake.”

Malcolm smiled. “Yes, but I’m abiggersnake.”

Chapter 23

An hour later Thomas Harlow opened the front door himself when Malcolm knocked.

“What an honor!” Malcolm mocked.

Tommy scowled. “Don’t flatter yourself. All the servants are gone—I gave them the holiday off.”

“Are you here all alone, then?

“No. My wife is here too, of course.” His eyes narrowed. “She’s too distraught about our sons to go to the house party we’d planned to attend.”

Malcolm pulled a sad face. “Ah, I feel guilty about that.”

Tommy snorted. “We can talk upstairs.”

Malcolm followed the other man up a staircase with a garish carpet runner and then onto a landing with hideous art on the walls.

“Would you like a drink?” Tommy asked grudgingly.

“I’ll have whatever you’re having.” Malcolm looked around Tommy’s study as he faffed about with the drinks. It was what he would have expected of the man: expensive but tasteless furnishings that screamedparvenu,complete with an insufferable portrait of Harlow and his cadaverous wife hanging above the huge hearth.

He heard movement on his left side and turned to find Harlow staring at his mask, the glass extended half-way.

Malcolm smiled. “Sorry, I’m afraid you were in my blind—and deaf—spot.” He took the glass and raised it. “Here is to two lads from the Dials who’ve made good.”

“I actually am not from the Dials,” Harlow stiffly corrected.

Malcolm knew that. “Oh. Where were you and Bri from, again?”

His jaw tightened at the sound of his brother’s name. “Whitechapel.”

Malcolm laughed at the faint distinction and set down his glass without taking a drink.

Harlow frowned at that but made no comment. Instead, he returned to the protection of his desk and set his own drink aside. “I don’t suppose we should dance about the matter. I want my daughter back.”

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