Clayton’s list of the fellows who hate you the most but could find no trace of them in London.”
She sighed. “It seems quite wrong that people are threatening to kill me, but I no longer get paid for it. Do you miss it?”
“The hunger, the cold, the lice, the rats that gnawed holes in the soles of my feet as I slept? I awake yearning for it every day. Why, do you?”
No.
Yes.
When she was a spy, there had been no Gabriel to pester her thoughts and desires. And if someone had threatened her life, she would’ve either killed him or moved on to another mission. She hated feeling like an overstuffed Christmas goose awaiting butchering.
“Am I nice?” Madeline wished she could recall the words. She was having this conversation with the wrong member of the Trio. Clayton would have scolded her for being foolish and said something deep and profound that would have soothed her fears.
Ian, on the other hand, laughed. “Why would you want to be nice? You’re well trained. That’s far better.”
But was that all there was to her? Training?
More importantly, did she care? She hadn’t a week ago.
Ian lifted a glass of brandy to his lips.
She glared at him. Of course, he hadn’t listened.
“It’s only a sip, I swear.”
Why did she bother trying to stop him? He was the Wraith, after all. What he wanted, he got. “The brandy will cost you.”
He sipped the amber liquid. “Of course. Everything does.”
“I need to find out all there is to know about Gabriel.”
“Huntford? Why?”
“He’s using the task I assigned him to pursue some personal agenda.”
“Have you asked him what it might be?”
“Yes. But now I need the truth.”
Ian patted her on the head. “I did train you well, didn’t I? He’s a bastard, you know.”
“I’ve experienced it.”
Ian laughed, handing her the rest of his brandy. “No, as in there is no Papa Huntford. I did some research before I gave him to you. His mother was a governess who found herself in the family way and changed her name to Mrs. Huntford before she gave birth to twins.”
“He has a brother?” For some reason, the idea of two of him running around was as amusing as it was frightening.
“No. He had a sister. She was murdered seven years ago, strangled. They never caught the killer. That’s why he became a Runner.”
Poor Gabriel. No one took the death of a family member lightly, but to lose a twin sister . . . And Madeline had seen the body of a woman who’d been strangled. Even though she hadn’t known the woman, the horrific image had stayed with her. What would it be like to go to sleep with the image of his sister like that imprinted on his thoughts—
Seven years.
“Gabriel asked for seven years of financial information from my suitors.”
“So he seeks something to do with his sister’s murder? I’ll see if I can find out what he’s looking for.”
“And anything else about him you think of interest.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she’d sooner face a Russian execution squad than explain her sudden yearning to know every last detail about Gabriel.
Ian massaged the back of his head. “Explain to me why I’m working while you spend the night at the theater?”
She wished she could simply delegate the investigation into Gabriel’s motives to Ian, but the puzzle nagged at her. “I’ll do my portion.”
“Will you torture or seduce the information from him?”
“I haven’t yet decided.” At the moment, both ideas appealed equally.
Grimacing, Ian rose to his feet, complaining about butlers who were fast with frying pans yet slow with tea. He paused by the door. “Are you sure you want to know what I find?”
She ignored the way her stomach dipped. “Isn’t it possible there’s nothing dark lurking in his past?”
Ian met her gaze with unflinching intent. “Everyone has secrets.”
Chapter Ten
I n the middle of her dramatic, agonizing death, the actress on stage paused to glare at
She sighed. “It seems quite wrong that people are threatening to kill me, but I no longer get paid for it. Do you miss it?”
“The hunger, the cold, the lice, the rats that gnawed holes in the soles of my feet as I slept? I awake yearning for it every day. Why, do you?”
No.
Yes.
When she was a spy, there had been no Gabriel to pester her thoughts and desires. And if someone had threatened her life, she would’ve either killed him or moved on to another mission. She hated feeling like an overstuffed Christmas goose awaiting butchering.
“Am I nice?” Madeline wished she could recall the words. She was having this conversation with the wrong member of the Trio. Clayton would have scolded her for being foolish and said something deep and profound that would have soothed her fears.
Ian, on the other hand, laughed. “Why would you want to be nice? You’re well trained. That’s far better.”
But was that all there was to her? Training?
More importantly, did she care? She hadn’t a week ago.
Ian lifted a glass of brandy to his lips.
She glared at him. Of course, he hadn’t listened.
“It’s only a sip, I swear.”
Why did she bother trying to stop him? He was the Wraith, after all. What he wanted, he got. “The brandy will cost you.”
He sipped the amber liquid. “Of course. Everything does.”
“I need to find out all there is to know about Gabriel.”
“Huntford? Why?”
“He’s using the task I assigned him to pursue some personal agenda.”
“Have you asked him what it might be?”
“Yes. But now I need the truth.”
Ian patted her on the head. “I did train you well, didn’t I? He’s a bastard, you know.”
“I’ve experienced it.”
Ian laughed, handing her the rest of his brandy. “No, as in there is no Papa Huntford. I did some research before I gave him to you. His mother was a governess who found herself in the family way and changed her name to Mrs. Huntford before she gave birth to twins.”
“He has a brother?” For some reason, the idea of two of him running around was as amusing as it was frightening.
“No. He had a sister. She was murdered seven years ago, strangled. They never caught the killer. That’s why he became a Runner.”
Poor Gabriel. No one took the death of a family member lightly, but to lose a twin sister . . . And Madeline had seen the body of a woman who’d been strangled. Even though she hadn’t known the woman, the horrific image had stayed with her. What would it be like to go to sleep with the image of his sister like that imprinted on his thoughts—
Seven years.
“Gabriel asked for seven years of financial information from my suitors.”
“So he seeks something to do with his sister’s murder? I’ll see if I can find out what he’s looking for.”
“And anything else about him you think of interest.” The words slipped out before she could stop them, and she’d sooner face a Russian execution squad than explain her sudden yearning to know every last detail about Gabriel.
Ian massaged the back of his head. “Explain to me why I’m working while you spend the night at the theater?”
She wished she could simply delegate the investigation into Gabriel’s motives to Ian, but the puzzle nagged at her. “I’ll do my portion.”
“Will you torture or seduce the information from him?”
“I haven’t yet decided.” At the moment, both ideas appealed equally.
Grimacing, Ian rose to his feet, complaining about butlers who were fast with frying pans yet slow with tea. He paused by the door. “Are you sure you want to know what I find?”
She ignored the way her stomach dipped. “Isn’t it possible there’s nothing dark lurking in his past?”
Ian met her gaze with unflinching intent. “Everyone has secrets.”
Chapter Ten
I n the middle of her dramatic, agonizing death, the actress on stage paused to glare at
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