Page 83 of Tender Blackguard

Chapter Twenty-eight

Alastair slid a quick glance across the room as Chesterfield made his way over to where Lowndes stood smoking and chatting with two of his guests. Drawing Lowndes away, Chesterfield spoke to him in a hushed tone before Lowndes checked his pocket watch and gave a nod. Tensing, Alastair watched as the younger man left the room.

Barely an hour had passed since Alastair had left Lark locked in the windowless room.

Had she had gotten out safely?

Despite the urge inside him to rush out and confirm her escape for himself, all he could do was remain calmly engaged in the game of cards he was playing. If Lowndes was even now discovering the women were missing, the focus of inquiry could swiftly fall upon Alastair.

Several minutes later, he saw Lowndes return to the room. Doing his best to keep the man in his peripheral vision, he played his next card, sipped from his champagne, and laughed at something one of the other players said.

The expression on Lowndes’s face gave little away, but there was an undeniable tension in his movements that hadn’t been there before. After Lowndes whispered intently to Chesterfield, the duke turned away to approach the Lords Marlowe and Altham as they sat before the fire with cigars and brandy. Lowndes, however, veered toward the table where Alastair was currently winning the round.

“Pardon me, gentlemen,” the lord said with a smooth smile as his hard gaze settled intently on Alastair. “I’m afraid I must borrow my friend here for a few moments.”

Alastair lifted a brow in question, but he graciously rose to his feet. “My apologies,” he noted to the other players, “but I expect to be back soon enough to continue fleecing you all.”

“Don’t worry, my boy,” Chesterfield said as came up behind him. Placing a heavy hand on Alastair’s shoulder, he offered a tight smile. “There’s no need to rush back. I’ll take your place here.”

Though the older man’s tone was amicable, there was no denying the hard glint in his gaze.

Displaying nothing but casual curiosity, Alastair followed Lowndes from the room. Once in the hall, he asked with a hint of impatience, “What’s this about? Isn’t it time to get things started? You promised I’d be leaving here with a small fortune. So far, all I’ve gotten is some damned pocket money.”

“Come with me, my lord,” Lowndes replied curtly, ignoring his questions as he ushered Alastair into the office once again. “Have a seat.”

Alastair took the indicated chair as Lowndes stepped around the desk and turned to face him.

“Why are you here, Warfield?”

Alastair gave the man a questioning look. “You know exactly why I’m here. Though I’m starting to wonder if you’ve any intention of going forward with things. What the hell is the delay, Lowndes?”

The other man narrowed his gaze to dark slits. “The women are gone.”

Relief rushed through him, but he rose swiftly to his feet in a show of shock and anger. “What do you mean they’re gone?” he half shouted.

Before Lowndes could answer, Hazelton came charging into the study, followed closely by Marlowe and Altham. “What’s this about the chits getting free? They’ve never gotten free before. Why weren’t they properly secured?”

“They were,” Lowndes replied without taking his eyes off Alastair. “And now they’re not.”

“What about the bloody guards?”

“The guards are gone as well.”

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