Page 31 of Summoner of Sins

“Nothing we can use,” Max thought of the man’s words about his family. He was never more thankful that he’d removed Sophie and Abigail. If that was his one chance to make a move on Whitehouse, he was glad that was the one he’d chosen. Whatever happened next, he’d made the right choice, and he was eager to return to them both.

They arrived at 4 Whitehall Place, the lanterns casting eerie shadows as he opened the double doors wide, allowing his coat to fan out behind him. This was not a moment to look weak.

Ironheart stood on his right and he tugged the lapels of his coat as he approached the clerk. “I’d like to speak with Constable Jacobs.”

“And who may I say?—”

Jacobs appeared before the clerk had finished his sentence. “Your Grace.”

The clerk paled as he stood, giving a short bow to Ironheart. “So sorry I didn’t recognize you, Your Grace.”

Ironheart waved the man off. “It’s quite all right. But I am curious about?—"

Jacobs gave a quick jerk of his head, his mouth turning down. “Follow me.”

He took them to a small office, filled with an old mahogany desk and a single chair. Max and Ironheart filled most of the empty space as Jacobs came to stand close, leaning in his head as he whispered, “Plimpton has been released.”

“By whom?” Ironheart whispered back.

“I don’t know, but I know it came from the top. I told them the accuser was a duke, but…” Jacobs raised his hands. “Whitehouse has friends in the highest places.”

“Damn it,” Max growled out his words. If they couldn’t even put one man in prison…

“It gets worse.” Jacobs moved even closer.

“What is it?” Max asked, his muscles growing taut with tension.

“Lord Cranston was found dead in his home this evening. The investigator said that two men were seen coming and going from his address today. One in a long coat,” his eyes flitted to Max. “And the other, later, baring six marks, three and three across his cheeks.” He drew three fingers across each of his cheeks.

Max stumbled back. Would Lord Whitehouse accuse him of killing Lord Cranston?

Why was a new man wearing Adam’s marks? Had they found a new assassin?

They left a quarter hour later, Max feeling more frustrated and frightened than he had in a long time. Lord Whitehouse’s operation was massive, and his connections were of the highest influence. How could he and Ironheart hope to best him?

“I should leave the city. With Sophie. Tonight.” He spoke into the darkness of the carriage.

“Maybe.” Ironheart lounged across from him. “Or maybe, tomorrow, I should pay a visit to my cousin, and yours if I’m not mistaken, the Queen.”

Max hadn’t had anything to do with family for a long time, and the Queen was only a distant relative of his, anyhow. “She’d have to care enough to get involved and not be bought by Whitehouse.”

“I think I might know the angle.” Ironheart laced his hands behind his head. “If you run now, and he only gains more power, you can’t come back, and neither can I. We always knew Lord Whitehouse was well-connected. He wouldn’t be attacking bloody dukes if he wasn’t.”

“How can he call us immoral? It’s ridiculous. He’s a murderer, abuser, thief. Turns my stomach.”

“Maybe we’re just as bad.” Ironheart dropped his hands. “You don’t…you don’t participate in the challenges?”

“I don’t,” he said, but he knew what Ironheart meant. A great deal of what the club did was downright dirty. “Thinking of making a change?”

Ironheart shrugged. “What’s it like? Meeting a woman you care for so much you decide to give her the deed to your home?”

That was one way to put it. He smiled as he thought of Sophie. “Like seeing the sun rise after the darkest night.”

“Christ. Poetry? You?” Ironheart snorted.

Max didn’t answer. The words said all he needed to say.

Ironheart leaned forward. “Look. Give me two days. I’ll see if I can convince the queen to take up the fight with us. If I can’t…we’ll retreat to the country and come up with a new plan.”

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