Page 146 of Their Master

A chuckle came out of the darkness. “I won’t need to get into his house because I haveyou, so he will come tome.”

Moira didn’t correct him—didn’t tell him that it was the baby Smith would come for, not her. She wanted both these men to forget that she was pregnant. It made her sick to know thattheyknew.

“Why do you want him?” she asked.

“Because the bastard is trying to kill me. So I’ll need to take care of him before he can succeed.”

“What did you do? Why does he want to kill you?”

“You ask a great many questions.” He didn’t sound happy about that, so she closed her mouth.

The carriage wheels passed onto a section of road that was rough and Moira had to cling to the seat to keep from bouncing off.

The older man muttered something about abloody hovel.

“Well, I’m sorry, but it is all you could afford,” Charles snapped, unrepressed regardless of how much the other man obviously hated him. “I know you can get more money from thatlistof yours, you just don’t want to share any of it with—argh!”

“Oh,doshut up,” her host muttered.

The carriage abruptly came to a halt and then shook in the way that indicated somebody was hopping down.

“We are here, Miss Bardot,” her unknown captor said. The door opened and admitted the light from the coach lamp, illuminating the man across from her.

He was older than her father—closer to seventy than sixty—and might once have been handsome but dissipation had turned his eyes into piggy blue glints hidden by waxy folds of fat. His skin was an unhealthy yellow, his hair a dirty gray beneath a hat that had seen better days.

A quick glance around outside showed them to be in a narrow alley. The man who’d opened the door was dressed like a clerk rather than a liveried servant.

He helped the older man out of the carriage and then gave him a look no servant would give an employer. “I’ll be wanting my pay, Clayton.”

Clayton scowled, his eyes sliding to Moira and then back to the other man. He dug into the front of his overcoat and came out with a battered envelope. “Tell Selkirk I want it ready and waiting no later than tomorrow morning. Understood?”

The other man snatched the letter from his hand, rolled his eyes, and stomped off.

“Get out,” Charles ordered behind her, giving her a push.

Moira stumbled from the carriage while the older man, Clayton, stared after the messenger he’d just sent off, his gaze pensive.

“Are we just going to stand here?” Charles demanded.

When Clayton turned back around, he held a pistol, which he pointed at Charles, rather than Moira. “I don’t really need you anymore, boy, so you might want to consider that.”

Charles’s mouth snapped shut, his blue eyes glittering with dislike.

“This way,” Clayton said, gesturing Moira toward a door in the alley wall. Rats scurried beneath the ankle-deep rubbish and Moira bit her lip to keep from screaming when one clawed at her stockings.

Clayton unlocked the door and went in first. The lintel was so low that even she felt cramped, and she recoiled at the dank air that flowed out of the darkness.

If you go in there, you’ll never come out again. Not alive.

Moira took a step back and bumped into Charles.

He grabbed the back of her neck. “Get in there,” he snapped, and shoved her into the darkness.

Chapter 35

“Really, sir, I am fine,” Luke insisted in a slurred voice while struggling to push himself up in the bed, and then just as quickly sliding back down.

“You need to lie back and relax, Mr. Cooper” Doctor Felson said. “I’ve just removed a bullet from your side. If you thrash about you will ruin all my careful work.”

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