Page 57 of The Duke's Mysterious Lover
You are not in this alone. Flick had said that. She’d wanted him to turn to Griffin and Demon and Rourke, but they weren’t here, not yet.
His mind made up, Thorne leaned into to her touch. “Let me tell ye a story, Kit.” Her thumbs moved toward his spine, and he swallowed down a groan. “Once upon a time, there was a very bad man.”
She hummed, clearly not really paying attention. “How bad?”
“He was a spy. He worked for Her Majesty’s government, and recruited intelligent, well-placed men to work for him, putting themselves in danger and doing difficult things, to advance Britain’s policies at home and abroad.”
“Believable so far.” Her knuckles dug into the muscles on either side of his neck.
“This man, however—Christthat feels good, Kit!” he groaned.
She made a little noise like a chuckle and dug deeper as she prompted, “This man, however?”
What had he been saying? Och, aye. “He wasn’t working for the good of Britain, but rather himself. His connection to the Crown was a falsehood.”
Kit paused, her fingers digging into his skin. “And the young men working for him?”
“All fools.” Thorne blew out a breath and twitched his chin in as much of a shake as he could manage without throwing her off. “Nay, no’ fools, justfooled. When they learned of his treachery, some tried to fight him, some hid.”
Slowly, Kit’s fingers began to move again, kneading along the tops of his shoulders, then down toward the backs of his arms. “And what did this bad man do?”
It was the way she asked the question—thoughtful and slow—that told Thorne she was dreading the answer. He had to be honest.
“He killed them. Or tried.” When she hissed out a breath, he felt a little jolt of awareness. Not physically—although he was enjoying the hell out of her touch—but something which wrapped around his heart, telling himyou are not alone. Kit understood.
“Some of them escaped, and some gathered evidence against him,” Thorne explained. “It was the least they—wecould do, considering the horrors…the horrors we’d committed at his command.”
He wasn’t proud of the way his voice cracked, but he was glad he’d had the courage to say the words, admit the deeds.
Kit’s fingers had stilled, digging into his muscles, and now she slowly relaxed. “I think I understand.”
Perhaps she did. Thorne took a deep breath. “There was a confrontation with two of his agents, and this bad man believed the evidence was destroyed. He fled, thinking legally—if no’ physically—he was safe.”
“What happened to the evidence?”
“It was hidden in a safe place, because he was far from beaten. He settled in Canada, but we—there’s a whole group of us who used to work for him—did our best to keep tabs on him.”
Kit didn’t speak for a long while, but the silence was charged, as if she was trying to decide what to say. Finally, her fingers dragged up the back of his neck. “This is Blackrose, isn’t it?” she asked softly.
Surprised, Thorne half-turned in his chair, before remembering the conversation she’d overheard between him and Fawkes and Bull. She was a bright one, indeed.
“That’s his code name, at least,” Thorne agreed. “His older brother was titled, in league with Blackrose. While he was in Canada, his brother placed coded messages in the newspaper—this paper, actually—alerting our villain to changes in the investigation and opportunities for gain.” He tugged yesterday’s copy of the newspaper closer, so he could gesture with it while he leaned his head back into her touch. “The publisher and lead editor is a friend.”
Kit snorted softly. “You’re friends with everyone, aren’t you?”
“Aye, well…perhaps. But in this case, she’s the Duchess of Effinghell, and her now-deceased stepbrother was one of the agents who stayed loyal to Blackrose, intent on lining the man’s pocket in exchange for handouts.”
“So the duchess published these messages?”
“They were in code—” He broke off with a groan as she scratched her nails across his scalp.
Kit hummed thoughtfully. “Which you cracked. You told Bull that Fawkes had the plan to use the code to trap Blackrose.”
“Fawkes is married to Danielle, who is a genius.” Thorne’s eyes were closed so he could better focus on the magic herfingers were weaving. “She’s also Blackrose’s niece. She broke the code and our plan is to place a notice in the paper again, using it, the way her father did.”
“Won’t her father notice?”
Thorne tried to marshal his thoughts, but the pleasure her fingers were sending across his skin was distracting as hell. “Blackrose…decided he could come back to Britain safely if he had a title. Using his connections, his hold over men with certain skills, he poisoned his brother to gain the title.”
