Page 120 of Their Master

John Hudgins—a wealthy shipping magnate—proved a disastrous choice for Clayton because he didn’t give a damn who knew about his propensity for handsome young men.

Rather than pay Clayton any money, Hudgins had contacted several ambitious newspapermen and told them how a government official had tried to blackmail him.

And then he’d taken a long holiday to Paris, where he was still living happily and operating his vast shipping empire.

Clayton had lost his position and had almost taken down Prime Minister Smith-Stanley, 14thEarl of Derby, by mere association. Only Smith-Stanley’s well-known loathing for Clayton had spared him and his administration.

Even so, twenty-seven government employees—from clerks to an assistant minister to several unnamed government agents—had been sacked along with him.

That meant twenty-seven men—not counting Clayton—were unemployed and looking for work.

Smith had only needed to find one of those men, but it had taken him weeks.

Kenneth Fielding was Smith’s newest employee and had his own reasons to track down Clayton, the man who’d ruined his career.

Fielding was also an immoral, vicious killer, which meant he was perfect for the job of bringing Clayton back to England.

But even Fielding was having a difficult time getting the job done.

Smith had been impatient to begin with; there was no good word to describe how he felt after six weeks of looking for the man.

“Are you sure that you’re irritated about Clayton? Or might it be something… else?” Malcolm had asked Smith the last time they’d seen each other, which had been at the christening of Mal’s son, Alexander.

They’d been in Malcolm’s study after the ceremony, sharing a drink, when Smith had confessed that he was in a vile mood.

“What are you getting at?” Smith had retorted.

“Don’t you think that maybe part of your mood might be because you were too hasty with Moira?”

“I think I was remarkably bloody restrained,” Smith had shot back, his fury surprising even him.

But Malcolm had known Smith too long to be frightened of him and had just clucked his tongue and given Smith a knowing—and annoying—look.

He’d dropped the subject, but Smith hadn’t forgotten it.

Of course he was still angry—and hurt, dammit—at what Moira had done. But that had nothing to do with his fury at Clayton.

Smith glared down at the message from Fielding. The urge to get the hell out of London and scour the Continent for Clayton himself was strong, but he had too much work here as it was.

If Fielding couldn’t catch the bloody man, then Smith would just have to wait until he returned to England, which he probably would when he ran out of money. The man had treated his blackmail victims like a bank for years—making withdrawals whenever he was skint. He wouldn’t stop now, especially since he no longer had a job and steady income.

Yes, Smith just needed to be patient. He’d been waiting over thirty years already. What difference would a few more months make?

Chapter 28

Two Months Later

“It’s him you go to on these nights, isn’t it?’

Luke froze in the middle of fastening Miss Moira’s gown before she went down to dinner.

He realized that she was looking at him in the mirror and his face heated.

“Er—”

“It’s all right, Luke,” she said, a slight smile on her face, which was no longer gaunt. In fact, he’d even go so far as to say that she was glowing. “I’m not angry at you.” She chuckled. “But I must admit that I’menvious.”

Luke finished closing the buttons. “Yes, I go to him.”

---