“What the devil is this?” he muttered, striding toward her with his greatcoat flaring around his long legs. “Why so dramatic a location? And with damnable short notice? I was busy.”
“‘Busy’ to you means gaming or whoring,” she said scornfully. “Forgive me if I feel little regret for the inconvenience.”
He stepped into the circle of light, and as always, Maria was taken aback by the masculine beauty of his features. She supposed she would never cease expecting to see some outer evidence of his inner rot, yet he appeared to neither age nor suffer the ill effects of remorse.
“It is not safe to meet with you anywhere else,” she said, stepping back when he came too close so that he would be forced to speak loudly. “Eddington did not wish to bed me, as you assumed. He suspects me of the deaths of Winter and Dayton. He means to see me hang for your crimes.”
The viscount cursed viciously. “He can prove nothing.”
“He says he has found the person who concocted the poisons you used.”
“Impossible. I killed that crone myself when she became greedy. A blade in the heart permanently silenced her.”
“Regardless, he has found someone who will testify against me and he means to see me hang.”
Welton’s green eyes narrowed dangerously. “Then why are you here? Why are you not in custody?”
She gave a bitter laugh. “He noted my association with St. John. You can imagine how it pleases him to have the leverage to extort my cooperation.”
“He will have to go the way of Winter and Dayton, then.” His finely etched lips pursed with thought.
Maria marveled at the ease with which the viscount talked about murder. By what design would such evil hide within a perfect physical shell?
“You would poison another agent of the Crown?” she asked, her voice pitched louder in mock horror.
He laughed. “I am amazed I can continue to surprise you. Don’t you know me well enough by now?”
“Apparently I can still be appalled at the depths to which you aspire. You killed Dayton and Winter for their money. While I detested your avarice, I understood your motivation. Greed is a universal vice. But murdering Eddington simply because he annoys you is…Well, I would have thought that beyond even you.”
Welton shook his head. “I will never understand you. Here I have provided you with titles and wealth, and now I seek to ensure your freedom and you are, as ever, completely ungrateful.”
“By God!” boomed a voice that startled them both. “This is excellent!”
The tapping of heels drew their gazes to the approaching shadows that appeared to be two men. Lord Sedgewick and Christopher entered the small circle of light.
“What is the meaning of this?” Welton asked, moving toward Maria.
Christopher swiftly sidestepped into his path, protecting her from possible harm. “This is the end of the road for you, my lord.”
Sedgewick rocked back on his heels, his smile wide. “You’ve no notion what this will do for my career. To have caught the man responsible for the deaths of Dayton and Winter. Brilliant, St. John, absolutely brilliant.”
“You have nothing,” Welton said as he looked at Maria. “She will testify that I am innocent of any wrongdoing.”
“Not so,” she said with a wide smile. “I look forward to affirming Lord Eddington’s relation of tonight’s events.”
“Eddington?” Sedgewick asked, scowling. “How does he signify?”
“I am the man who will see you stripped of your duties,” Eddington said, joining the growing crowd. “And of course there is Lord Welton here, whose confession of his crimes was heard by too many people to be discounted.”
More lanterns flared to life around them, revealing an astonishing number of individuals-Runners, soldiers, and lackeys.
It was altogether too perfect. The three men toppled each other. Eddington mitigated Sedgewick’s hold over St. John, and Sedgewick mitigated Welton’s hold over Maria.
“Dear God,” Welton breathed. His head whipped toward Maria, his features contorted with pure rage. Finally, he looked like the monster he was. “You will correct this, Maria, or you will never see her again.
“I know where she is,” she said simply. “You have no hold on me, or her. With your imprisonment, I will care for her. As I should have all of these years.”
“I have associates,” he hissed. “You will never be safe.”
Christopher’s gaze narrowed. “She will always be safe,” he said in a low, fervent tone. “Always.”
Maria smiled. “May God have no mercy on your soul, my lord.”
Eddington watched as Welton was clapped in irons by a Runner and Sedgewick was led away by two agents. As the wharf cleared, leaving only his carriage and St. John’s, he set his hands at the small of his back and heaved out a deep sigh of satisfaction. After this night, he would assuredly be granted the recently opened position of commander that Sedgewick had sought with such reckless determination.
Lost in plans for his use of his new power, he failed to register the patter of footsteps behind him until the sharp tip of a blade pierced through his clothing and poked at his flesh.
He stilled. “What is the meaning of this?”
“You will be my guest, my lord,” Lady Winter murmured, “until my sister is returned to me.”
“You must be jesting.”
“I caution you against underestimating her,” St. John said. “I have felt her blade more times than I care to admit.”
“I could call out for help,” Eddington said.
“How unsporting of you,” Lady Winter said.
A grunt of pain was heard, quickly followed by several more. Eddington turned his head and found his coachman, footmen, and outriders engaging in fisticuffs with what appeared to be a lone man of Irish descent. That the Irishman was winning was in no doubt.
“Good God!” Eddington cried, watching with pure awe. “I have never seen such a show of pugilistic expertise in my life.”
He was so engaged by the spectacle that he offered no protest when his hands were bound behind him.
“Come along now,” Lady Winter said when he was secured. She poked him with her knife again for good measure.
“Who is that man?” he inquired as St. John’s lackeys restrained those who groaned in surrender on the ground. But no one replied.
Later, he was pleased to see the Irishman again when the man entered Eddington’s guarded room with a decanter of brandy and two glasses. Truly, as far as prisons went, Lady Winter’s opulent home was the finest of them. His “cell” was decorated in shades of ivory and gold, with brown leather wingbacks before a marble-framed grate and a canopied bed covered in a golden floral embroidered silk counterpane.
“It is almost morning, my lord,” the Irishman said, “but I hoped you would share a nightcap with me.” His mouth curved wryly. “Lady Winter and St. John have already retired.”
“Of course.” Eddington studied the other man as he accepted the proffered glass from him. “You are the kept paramour I have heard whispered about.”
“Simon Quinn, at your service.”
Quinn settled into a wingback before the grate and held his glass in two hands, seeming not at all injured by his earlier activities. He glanced aside with a look that would chill boiling water. “Lest you think this is merely a social visit, my lord, I feel I should tell you bluntly that if Lady Winter’s sibling arrives with any injury at all, I will beat you to a bloody pulp.”
“Christ.” Eddington blinked. “You’ve put the fear of God into me.”
“Excellent.”
Eddington tossed back his drink. “Listen, Quinn. It appears your present occupation will be…eliminated.”
“Yes, it does appear so.”
“I have a proposition for you.”
Quinn’s brow raised.
“Hear me out,” Eddington said. “Once this matter with the sister is resolved, I will assume a position of some
