Page 114 of Their Master

He laughed. “You are a very curious man, my lord—you know what they say about curiosity.”

“Yes, but then I am not a cat, Mr. Smith.” Selkirk smiled coldly.

“You wouldn’t have agreed to see me unless you wanted something,” Smith said.

Selkirk didn’t bother to deny it. He stared at Smith for a long moment, his gaze so opaque, his body so motionless, that he might have been a statue. Indeed, Smith had never met anyone as unreadable as the Earl of Selkirk. Whatever thoughts went on behind those remarkable eyes was anyone’s guess.

Finally, the earl gave another of his elegant shrugs. “I knew you were looking for him before you contacted me.”

Smith fought down a twinge of irritation. That would be Red Jasper’s doing, the clumsy, careless bastard.

“You obviously know what Clayton has been up to all these years,” Selkirk continued. “The list of his victims is a long one.”

“It is,” Smith admitted. “But your name is not on the list that I saw, my lord.”

Selkirk’s pupils narrowed slightly. “I somehow suspect that your name isn’t on it either.”

Smith smirked. “No, but I suspect I’ve made my way onto a far shorter, more exclusive list: Clayton’s soon-to-be deceased list.

“You don’t seem very worried about that.”

“I’m not.”

The earl nodded, his gaze speculative. “I know what you did to the Duke of Tarland.”

Smith’s systematic destruction of Tarland a year ago—not with a truncheon or a pistol, but with money—was not something he’d tried to hide, but neither had he advertised his actions.

“It’s not exactly a secret,” Smith said.

“You earned a number of enemies when you went after Tarland.”

Smith shrugged. He’d ruined Tarland for Jojo, and he would never regret it.

“It just so happens that I approve,” Selkirk said. “Tarland was an abomination.”

“That… surprises me.”

“You think I approve of a lord who rapes his servants and fathers children on them?” he asked, the faintest bite in his tone.

“I thought membership in your select group meant that you would be willing to overlook, the duke’s, er, foibles.”

Selkirk stared for a long moment and then—shockingly—grinned. “I do enjoy plain speaking.”

“Perhaps you might return the favor,” Smith said. Because he knew for a fact that Selkirk hadn’t agreed to see him out of the goodness of his heart.

“I want you to kill Clayton for me.”

“You weren’t jesting—thatisplain speaking.”

“I’ve heard rumors about you—about your past.”

Smith snorted. “Was one of the rumors that I am an assassin for hire?”

Selkirk ignored his levity. “I looked into your, er,dealingsclosely once I received your message. I know you want him. Badly.”

Smith was not willing to discuss his reasons for seeking Sir Clayton with the earl. “Why don’t you hire somebody to kill him? Somebody else,” he clarified.

“Unfortunately, my problem won’t end with his death.”

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