Page 53 of Her Beast

It won’t bring me back, Mal.

He knew that. He wasn’t even sure that causing Sheehan pain had vented any of his wrath. If anything, what he’d learned tonight had only left him more enraged.

Not to mention conflicted and confused.

“Should we finish him, sir?”

“No. I’m not done with him yet.” Malcolm handed Joe the towel and flexed his hands, wincing at the pain. He’d been foolish to damage his hands on the human rubbish in the other room.

“Get Doc Cartwright in here to fix him up.”

“Aye, sir.” Joe scratched his head, clearly confused as to why Malcolm would doctor a man he’d just tortured half to death, but he was a good enough employee that he never questioned Malcolm’s orders.

Malcolm pulled on a second, fur-lined, pair of gloves with a pained wince. “Where are the Harlow twins right now?”

“Most holidays they spend with their grandmother when they’re not away at school.”

Malcolm snorted. “That’s right—I’d forgotten that their mother proudly apes the aristocracy when it comes to childrearing. I want you to go get them.”

Joe inhaled deeply and then let it out slowly, his normally ruddy face going pale.

Malcolm sighed. “I don’t want you to hurt them, Joe. Use my private rail carriage and coach and take them and their grandmother on a holiday journey to Paris. Put them up in my apartment there. If the grandmother kicks up a fuss convince her that her cooperation is… critical.”

“What should I say?”

“Tell her that Harlow is treating her to an all-expenses paid holiday.”

“Er, Mrs. Sheehan don’t get along with her son-in-law, sir.”

Malcolm sighed. “Then tell her she has a secret admirer who paid for the holiday. Tell her anything you want except the truth—I don’t care. Just don’t upset her or the boys.”

“Yes, sir. Any idea how long this will be?”

Malcolm thought about what Sheehan had just divulged.

“This might take a bit longer than I’d expected.”

Chapter 11

Julia thought she had been bored while locked up with only Netta and Carl for company.

After six full days of her own company, she would have welcomed even Netta with open arms.

On her seventh morning of captivity—after she’d woken with another day of boredom stretching before her like eternity—Julia finally admitted that it might have been foolish to hurl cutlery at her host.

She could be very charming when she put her mind to it, and now was as good a time as any to exercise that charm. Besides, not only would seeing Barton alleviate her boredom, but he was her only source of information. After almost a week in his household she’d learned thatnoneof his servants would tell her anything. If she was going to learn anything at all it would have to come from the man, himself.

Julia pulled the bell for Kemp.

“He’s not available to come to breakfast?” she repeated, a few minutes later. “Then what about nuncheon?”

“Mr. Barton doesn’t usually sit down to a midday meal, Miss.”

“Tea?”

Kemp looked pained. “He is not in the habit of taking tea, I’m afraid.”

“Dinner, then,” Julia said flatly. “Or does he not eat that meal, either?” As soon as the snappish question was out of her mouth, she felt like a shrew for using such a tone. “I’m sorry,” she said before Kemp could answer. “I shouldn’t use that tone on you.”

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