Page 27 of Summoner of Sins

Ironheart shrugged. “I’m not scared of the man or his beliefs. But the excessive number of thugs he keeps about him does propose a concern. I’d like to know for certain how many of them there are. Without understanding the scope of the threat, I dare not move around London freely.”

Ironheart was right, and, when not drunk, quite smart. Max gave him a quick nod of appreciation.

“I’d like to find a way to safely get word to Tabbie. I know I can’t just go calling, but I want her to know I’m safe,” Sophie said.

“And we need to know if she’s found any relatives,” Max said, but sending her off to some distant relative was becoming the plan behind the plan. If he could help it, he wouldn’t send Sophie or Abigail anywhere.

They’d remain at his side unless something happened to him. He filled his lungs with air. “Today we need to get word to Tabbie, see what we can observe of Lord Whitehouse, though I’ve been trying with limited success. I think it might be time to see what we can learn from Lord Cranston about his father.”

Ironheart tipped his chin in acknowledgment. “Good thinking.”

He rose then, knowing he had another assignment. He had to collect any funds he had available. Should the worst happen, he’d leave Sophie with enough money to see herself settled wherever she chose, be that with some distant aunt or on her own. Besides, a dress lined with coins had been a lifesaver.

He only hoped they wouldn’t need such measures again, but on that account, he wasn’t holding much hope.

CHAPTER TEN

Max sent his carriage out with a footman posing as him. A half-hour later, he came back. “Followed?” he asked.

“Yes.”

Max drew in a deep breath. Lord Whitehouse knew they were here. It was noon, and part of him thought he ought to wait until dark, but he had a great deal of business to attend. Moving through Ironheart’s garden, Max slipped out through the back gate, traversing several alleys before he came to a main thoroughfare and hailed a hack.

His first stop was Lady Tabetha’s. He didn’t call upon her. Instead, he skirted around back, entering the kitchen. At this time of day, deliveries were being brought in, and the kitchen was the busiest room in the house. He recognized the butler from his first visit. The man sat in his small office just off the kitchen recording the deliveries and paying vendors.

Max waved to him, and the other man’s eyes lit up with recognition. “My lord. What brings you here?”

Max grimaced as he handed the note to the butler, Sophie’s feminine scroll decorating the front. “From Miss Wren.”

The man nodded, his eyes holding questions that he was well-trained enough not to ask. “I’ll see Lady Tabetha receives this post haste.”

Max nodded and turned to leave.

His next stop was home, where he collected every spare coin he could muster. He’d paid for the townhouse outright with his earnings from his time in the military. He could surely sell for a profit now. That was a problem for another time. He grabbed the deed from his safe. If Whitehouse killed him, Sophie would need it.

Drawing in a breath, he looked around his simple home. He felt little affection for the place. It had served him, but if he didn’t come back, he wouldn’t miss it. With a salute, he turned and left, staying in the shadows.

Then he made his way to his final errand—Lord Cranston.

Max knew the property well enough, as he’d been here many times before delivering messages for the club. He donned his mask and rang the bell at the front door. While he’d already revealed his identity to everyone in the club, he wanted to appear as though he was there on club business, which he supposed he was. Investigating Lord Whitehouse had been for the benefit of the Duke Fraternity, even if his investigation was decidedly more personal now.

He stood on the steps waiting for a minute and then two. He rang the bell again, and that’s when he noticed the curtain next to the window flutter.

“Open up, Cranston,” he said. The curtain dropped and a moment later, the door opened.

“You spoke,” Cranston murmured as he appeared at the door, waving Max in. “I didn’t know.”

Max shook his head. He had spoken and he was honestly as surprised as Cranston. He hadn’t even thought about it, but he’d had multiple, albeit short, conversations with multiple strangers.

When had he become this man? He knew it was because of Sophie. Her acceptance helped him relax and be more comfortable speaking, and doing so clearly and without his stutter.

“I need to speak with you about your father.”

Cranston shivered. “Must we?”

“Yes.”

“What do you wish to know?” Cranston turned and led him through the house. The curtains were drawn in every window, and no fires were lit in any of the grates. Some of the furniture was covered, and other pieces were layered with dust. It looked like the man hardly lived there. Cranston turned into a back study. A fire burned there, and the furniture was uncovered and free of dust. It was the only room in the house that looked inhabited.

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