He surveyed the discarded clothes that littered the bed and the carpet. He picked up Olympia's little white cap and smiled faintly.
He glanced up and frowned when his gaze fell on the clock. It was nearly one and he had an appointment at the docks in forty-five minutes.
"Damnation."
Jared reached for his shirt. Marriage played havoc with a man's daily schedule.
Forty-five minutes later Jared alighted from a nondescript hackney and walked across a busy street to a small tavern. The man he had employed to ask questions along the docks was waiting for him.
Jared sat down in the booth and waved away the buxom tavern wench. "Well then, Fox, what have you learned?"
Fox wiped his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt and belched. "Just what you suspected, m'lord. The man was badly dipped six months ago. So far under the hatches, everyone figured he'd never climb out. Then he somehow managed to pay off all his debts. Same thing happened three months ago. Lost everything and then found a way to cover his losses."
"I see." Jared pondered that for a moment. "I knew what was happening, I just did not know the why of it. Now I do."
Gambling. Well, it seemed that everyone had his secret passion, Jared thought.
"Typical case, m'lord." Fox's world-weary sigh of understanding was somewhat marred by another belch. "Man gets sucked into the gaming hells and gets himself bled dry. Sad, but all too common. Only difference this time, is that the cove managed to come about afore it was too late. Fortunate for him, eh?"
"Yes, very fortunate, indeed." Jared got to his feet. "You will receive your payment through Graves this afternoon, as we arranged. Thank you for your services."
"Anytime, m'lord," Fox took another swallow of his ale. "As I told Graves, I'm always available."
Jared strode out of the tavern and stood for a moment on the sidewalk. He started to hail a hackney and then changed his mind. He needed to think about what he had just learned.
He walked slowly with no particular direction in mind. He was vaguely aware of the taverns and coffeehouses he passed. Even at this hour they were filled with the usual assortment of laborers, sailors, pickpockets, whores, and thieves.
A part of Jared's attention remained on his surroundings as it always did. The weight of his dagger rested comfortably against his ribs.
As he walked, he sorted through the facts that he had learned. Now he knew the motive behind the embezzlement scheme but it did not make matters easier.
The time had come to confront the person who had betrayed his trust but Jared was in no rush to do so. He did not, after all, have very many friends.
The man with the knife emerged from the alley with virtually no sound. It was his shadow that Jared saw first. The dark shape of it flickered briefly on the brick wall as he launched himself forward.
The instant of warning was just barely enough. Jared threw himself to the side. His assailant's blade sliced through thin air instead of flesh.
The man whirled about, dancing nimbly to catch his balance and then he struck out a second time.
Jared was ready for him. He raised his arm to block the knife thrust and simultaneously slipped his dagger out of its sheath. Sunlight glinted on the good Spanish steel.
The attacker sucked air between his teeth. "No one said anythin' about you havin' a blade o' yer own."
Jared did not bother to answer. He circled his opponent, aware that the man's eyes were riveted on the dagger. When he was certain the villain's whole attention was focused on the blade, he lashed out with one booted foot.
The blow connected with the man's thigh. He howled in pain and rage and flailed wildly in an effort to catch his balance. Jared feinted with the knife and the man jerked backward, toppled, and fell to the pavement.
Jared kicked the knife out of the man's hand and leaned down to put the tip of his own blade against his victim's throat.
"Who hired you?" Jared asked.
"I don't know." The man stared at the hilt of the dagger. "It was just a business arrangement made through me usual arranger. I never saw the cove what paid me."
Jared straightened in disgust and resheathed the dagger. "Get out of here."
The man needed no second bidding. He scrambled to his feet and started to reach for his own blade which lay on the cobbles.
"Leave it," Jared ordered softly.
"Aye, sir. Whatever you say, sir. More where that one came from."
The villain ran off down the street. A moment later he disappeared into a narrow lane between two massive warehouses.
Jared looked down at the blade that his attacker had left behind.
No, he thought, there was no point in putting off the inevitable confrontation any longer.
An hour later Jared went up the steps of the premises that Felix Hartwell had occupied for nearly ten years. A sense of weary sadness pervaded him as he opened the door and walked into the small outer room. He was not altogether certain what one said at a time like this.
Finding the proper words proved unnecessary. When Jared opened the door of the inner office he discovered that he was too late.
Felix was gone.
A letter lay on top of the desk. It was addressed to Jared and had obviously been scrawled in a great rush.
Chillhurst:
I now realize that you know everything. It was only a matter of time. You were always so bloody clever. You may have a few questions. The least I can do is answer them.
I was the one who let word slip about your presence here in town and about the odd arrangement you had with Miss Wingfield. I hoped that once you were discovered, you would make haste back to the country. It was worrisome to have you in the vicinity, Chillhurst.
But you chose to stay in London and I decided to see if I could use one of your charges to gain the money I needed. I would have you know that I meant no harm to the boy. I merely intended to hold him for ransom. But you foiled me once again. So damn clever.
You will no doubt seek justice because that is your way but I trust that you will not find me before I leave England. I have had everything in readiness for months because I knew this day might come.
I regret everything. I never intended for matters to go this far. My only excuse is that I had no choice.
Yrs,
FH
P.S. I know you will not believe this, but I am rather glad you survived this afternoon. It was the action of a desperate man and I regretted it as soon as I had given the order. At least I will not have your death on my conscience.
Jared crumpled the note in his fist. "Felix, why in God's name did you not ask me for help? We were friends."
He stood gazing at the surface of Felix's orderly desk for a long while before he turned and walked back out onto the street.
At that moment Jared wanted only to talk to Olympia. She would understand.
"Jared, I am so very sorry." Olympia scrambled out of bed and went to where Jared stood gazing out into the night. "I did not know of your friendship with this man, but I understand how you must feel."
"I trusted him, Olympia. Over the years I gave him increasing responsibilities. He was as familiar with my business affairs as I was. Damnation. I do not usually make mistakes of this sort."
"You must not blame yourself simply because you placed your trust in the wrong person." Olympia put her arms around him from behind and hugged him fiercely. "A man with a passionate nature such as yours often listens to his heart rather than his head."
Jared braced his hand against the window frame. "My friendship with Hartwell had been tested by time. He knew me better than anyone. He was the one who arranged for me to meet Demetria."