Maggie flashed a smile. “I bet you weren’t. Little Miss Snit. But lookin’ ’round this place, I don’t think you have such a reason to be so high and mighty.”
“Hush, Maggie,” Roddenbury said, never taking his eyes off Imogen. He smiled at her, but it didn’t put her at ease. “You are a hard woman to find, Imogen.”
She flinched at his use of her first name. “I-I was afraid,” she admitted. At least that didn’t have to be a lie. “After what I…what I saw, I was afraid of you both and what you would do.”
Roddenbury moved into the room and took a seat on her settee without asking her leave. He waved Maggie to the sideboard, and she obediently walked there and began preparing a cup of tea for him. Imogen edged to the seat across from his, but he shook his head. “No, no. Why don’t you come sit next to me? We’re friends, aren’t we? Wouldn’t you rather have me as a friend?”
Imogen swallowed, but went to the settee beside him. Oscar had to be going mad in the other room, watching all this through the peephole. But what could she do? She needed Roddenbury’s trust. “I would very much rather have you as a friend,” she said. “I haven’t liked being enemies.”
“Neither have I,” he cooed as he set a hand on her knee. Through her dress, she felt his fingers burn. “So let us talk about how we could repair our relationship and do good for each other.”
“Yes,” she gasped out.
“You saw me, with that poor girl’s dead body,” he said.
She stiffened. This was what the Willowbys needed, after all. Only admitting he was with a dead body wasn’t the same as admitting he had been the cause of her death.
“I saw you with her, yes,” she said. “And I heard Maggie say that you had k-killed her.”
Roddenbury’s eyes darted to Maggie, and she bent her head, her fear palpable, as she brought him his tea. “I see. So you believe I killed her.”
“Didn’t you?” Imogen pressed.
He arched a brow. “Why don’t we talk about something else?” he suggested.
Her heart skipped. If he didn’t admit he had murdered that poor woman, it was going to make everything so much harder. “But—”
“How can we resolve this so that no one else has to be…hurt?” he insisted, and the hand on her knee grew tighter. His fingers pressed into her skin, and she tried to pull away, but he kept her where she was.
“I-I don’t know. I ran because I was frightened, like I said. But now I don’t have anywhere to go.”
Roddenbury’s eyes lit up. “Does that mean Oscar Fitzhugh has grown tired of you?”
She tensed. “You guaranteed that when you had his club shot to pieces. He blamed me. Kicked me out of his bed and his house.”
Roddenbury smiled. “Then the plan worked.”
“How—how did you know about him?”
“I guessed after he threatened me.” Roddenbury shook his head. “I thought he’d be harder to get rid of, after the look in his eyes when he stepped up to me. He was your knight gallant, I thought.”
“Not so very gallant. He gave up quickly enough when I caused him trouble. But I heard you were looking for me. That you wanted to talk. So what can I do to get myself out of this?”
“Your situation is dire,” Roddenbury said. “But you were at the Cat’s Companion looking for a protector. Plus you let Fitzhugh bed you for weeks in trade for what he could provide. It’s clear you are willing to offer your body, if need be. Miss Monroe and I have a…business of sorts where we offer women to those who want their company.”
“Something like the brothel, you mean,” she said.
He shook his head. “No, on a more permanent basis. I could take you to where we keep the women during the transition. And then you’ll be sent someplace where you can live out your days in…comfort.”
Maggie snorted at that, and in an instant, Roddenbury was on his feet. He backhanded her so hard she careened to the floor, her bottom bouncing across the carpet as she stared up at him in utter terror.
Imogen lurched from the settee and stepped away from him, her heart throbbing at the violence. “No,” she whispered. “I don’t want to go with you. I don’t want the life you’re describing. You are a monster. That cannot be the only way out.”
“It’s not,” Roddenbury sneered, and he moved toward her, trapping her against the wall. He put a hand out and traced her cheek with his fingers. “I could kill you like I killed that screaming bitch at the Cat’s Companion. Or like I’ve killed plenty of others. That’s the other way out, Imogen. So what do you prefer? Because one way I can do right now and I will enjoy it immensely.”
He smiled, something ugly and terrifying. A threat, but before he could go further, the door floor open and Oscar, the Willowbys, Huntington, Barber and the agents burst into the room, guns drawn.
“That’s enough, Roddenbury,” Willowby said. “You are under arrest by edict of the Crown. Unhand that woman and come with us.”
Roddenbury looked at him, his expression stunned. He had truly not anticipated this turn of events. Imogen might have enjoyed that realization more had he not grabbed her, thrown her in front of himself like a shield and pressed a pistol into her side.
Oscar couldn’t breathe as Roddenbury’s gun jabbed into Imogen’s side. If he fired, she would die. There was nothing else to it.
“You can’t escape,” Willowby said, remarkably calm. But then again, it wasn’t the love of his life with a gun in her side.
“It’s over,” Diana added. “Just let the woman go. It might inspire mercy in the judges you’ll face for your crimes.”
“Mercy?” Roddenbury said with a laugh. “Mercy is for
