Hello Stranger (The Ravenels #4)(100)

Ethan caressed Garrett’s wrist surreptitiously before releasing it. “The job didn’t go exactly as planned,” he replied curtly, tugging the handkerchief out of his collar.

Jenkyn’s head jerked up. He fixed Ethan with an unblinking gaze, his eyes dilated to black surrounded by bleach-white.

Something vicious and ugly stirred inside Ethan as they stared at each other. For a few appalling seconds, he felt suspended in some mad place between murder and weeping. The place where he’d been shot seemed to throb. He fought the temptation to cover it with a protective hand.

Jenkyn was the first to speak. “Gamble was so certain he’d be the last man standing.”

“I didn’t kill Gamble,” Ethan said flatly.

That seemed to surprise Jenkyn nearly as much as the sight of Ethan having returned from the dead. Remaining in his chair, the spymaster withdrew a cigar from a stand on a nearby table. “I wish you had,” he said. “Gamble’s of no use to me if he hasn’t managed to dispatch you after two attempts.” His tone was cold, but there was a visible tremor in his fingers as he lit the cigar.

Ethan realized that neither of them were entirely in control. Garrett, by contrast, was self-possessed and almost relaxed, wandering slowly around the room to investigate shelves and cabinetry and paintings. Since she was a mere woman, Jenkyn paid little attention to her, keeping his focus on Ethan.

“What is the nature of your connection to the Ravenels?” Jenkyn asked. “Why did they decide to harbor you?”

So he didn’t know. Ethan was inwardly amazed to discover there were some secrets beyond Jenkyn’s reach. “It doesn’t matter,” he said.

“Never tell me that,” Jenkyn snapped, reverting to their usual dynamic. “If I ask a question, it matters.”

“I beg your pardon,” Ethan said softly. “I meant to say ‘none of your business.’”

An incredulous look came over Jenkyn’s face.

“While I was recuperating,” Ethan continued, “I had a chance to finish reading Hamlet. You wanted me to tell you what reflection I saw in it. That’s why I’m here.” He paused as he saw the flicker of interest in the older man’s gaze. The astonishing realization came to him that Jenkyn did care about him in some undefinable way, and yet he’d tried to have him killed regardless. “You said in a fallen world, Hamlet realized there’s no good or bad, no right or wrong . . . everything is just a matter of opinion. Facts and rules are useless. Truth isn’t important.” Ethan hesitated. “There’s a kind of freedom in that, isn’t there? It lets you do or say whatever you want to achieve your goals.”

“Yes,” Jenkyn said, the reflected firelight dancing in his copper eyes as he gazed steadily at Ethan. His face had softened. “That’s what I hoped you would understand.”

“But it’s not freedom for everyone,” Ethan said. “It’s only freedom for you. It means you can sacrifice anyone for your benefit. You can justify killing innocent people, even children, by saying it’s for the greater good. I can’t do that. I believe in facts, and the rule of law. I believe something a wise woman told me not long ago: every life is worth saving.”

The light seemed to die out of Jenkyn’s eyes. He reached for a match and heated the clipped end of the cigar binding, taking refuge in the ritual. “You’re a na?ve fool,” he said bitterly. “You have no idea what I would have done for you. The power you could have had. I would have brought you along with me, and taught you to see the world as it really is. But you’d rather betray me, after all I’ve given you. After I created you. Like any simpleminded peasant, you’d rather cling to your illusions.”

“Morals,” Ethan corrected gently. “A man of high position should know the difference. You shouldn’t be in government, Jenkyn. No man who changes his morals as easily as he does his clothes should have power over other people’s lives.” A sense of peace and lightness came over him, as if he’d been untethered, cut loose from a burden he’d carried for years. He glanced at Garrett, who appeared to be browsing over objects arranged on the mantelpiece, and he felt a surge of intense tenderness mingled with desire. All he wanted was to take her away from here, and find a bed somewhere, anywhere. Not in passion . . . at least, not yet . . . He longed just to hold her safe in his arms, and sleep.

Ethan pulled a pocket watch from his waistcoat and consulted the time. One-thirty in the morning. “The presses have started by now,” he said casually. “One of the editors at the Times told me they can churn out twenty thousand copies of the paper per hour. That means they’ll have at least sixty, perhaps seventy thousand copies ready for the morning edition. I hope they don’t misspell your name. I wrote it out carefully for them, just to make sure.”

Slowly Jenkyn set the cigar on a crystal dish, staring at him with emerging fury.

“I almost forgot to mention the meeting I had with them today,” Ethan said. “I was full of interesting information, and they seemed very eager to hear it.”

“You’re bluffing,” Jenkyn said, his face darkening with rage.

“We’ll find out soon, won’t we?” Ethan began to tuck the pocket watch back into the waistcoat, and nearly dropped it as he was startled by the sound of something whipping through the air, a sickening impact of blunt force on flesh, the crack of bone, a scream of pain.