Hello Stranger (The Ravenels #4)(99)

“Bugger that, you owe me for all the scaffolding I had to pull down.”

They exchanged grins. The grip of their hands felt warm and solid. Safe. This must be a brotherly feeling, Ethan thought, this sense of camaraderie and connection, this unspoken understanding that they would always take the other’s side.

“One last bit of advice,” West said, finishing the handshake with a hearty squeeze. “The next time someone shoots at you . . . try ducking.”





Chapter 24




After midnight, Ethan and Garrett arrived at Portland Place in a carriage provided by Rhys Winterborne. They were accompanied by a pair of well-trained and competent private guards who were responsible for the security of his warehouses.

The sophisticated terrace houses of Portland Place glowed in the illumination of streetlamps. Jenkyn’s terrace was one of the largest in the enclave, with a double-fronted entrance and attached corner houses flanking it on either side. Bypassing the stately portico in front, the carriage went to the narrow street and mews behind, and stopped at the back entrance intended for servants and deliverymen.

“If we don’t come out in fifteen minutes,” Ethan murmured to the warehouse guards, “proceed as planned.”

They both nodded in agreement and checked their pocket watches.

Ethan helped Garrett from the carriage and regarded her with a mixture of concern and pride. She was exhausted, just as he was, but she had endured the long, tense, tedious day without a single word of complaint.

They had retrieved the pages of evidence from Garrett’s home, and proceeded to Printing House Square, the London court inhabited by the leading journals of the city. The ground had fairly trembled from the basement engines running a multitude of presses. Soon after they had entered the Times building, they were led to the chief editor’s office, known as the “lion’s den.” It was there they had spent eight hours in the company of the managing and night editors and an editorial writer, while Ethan provided facts, names, dates, and detailed accounts of criminal conspiracies originating from Jenkyn and his cabal of officials in the Home Office.

Throughout the process, Garrett had been patient and stoic. Ethan had never known any woman who could match her for stamina. Even after foregoing sleep and proper meals, she was clearheaded and ready to face whatever would come.

“Are you sure you won’t wait out here for me?” Ethan asked hopefully. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”

“Every time you’ve asked that,” Garrett said with exquisite patience, “I’ve said no. Why do you keep doing it?”

“I thought it might wear down your resistance.”

“No, it’s making me more stubborn.”

“I’ll have to remember that in the future,” Ethan said dryly, adjusting the brim of his hat lower over his eyes. He had visited the terrace only three times in his entire acquaintance with Jenkyn. With any luck, the servants wouldn’t look closely enough to recognize him.

“Here,” Garrett said, reached up with a white handkerchief. She tucked it into the front of his collar, creating a bulge similar to Gamble’s goiter. Her green eyes met his, and she caressed his cheek with gentle fingers. “It will be all right,” she whispered.

With a mixture of astonishment and annoyance, Ethan realized he was visibly nervous. His body felt like a collection of separate mechanisms, none of them quite synchronized with the others. He took a measured breath, released it slowly, and turned Garrett to face away from him. Carefully he grasped her wrist and twisted her arm behind her back to make it appear as if he were forcing her to accompany him.

“Should I curse and struggle as we go through the house, until you subdue me?” Garrett suggested, warming to the role.

Ethan had to grin at her enthusiasm. “No, acushla, there’s no need to take it that far.” Pressing a gentle kiss behind her ear, he murmured, “But I’ll subdue you later, if you like.” Feeling the little shiver that ran through her, he smiled and rubbed his thumb into the soft hollow of her palm.

In the next moment, he made his expression inscrutable and knocked on the door.

They were shown inside by a tall and wiry butler, with thick Prussian brows and hair that was brindled in shades of steel and white. Ethan kept his face low. “Tell Jenkyn I have the delivery he wanted,” he said hoarsely.

“Yes, Mr. Gamble. He’s been expecting you.” The butler didn’t spare one glance for Garrett as he led them through the house. The interior had been designed with an abundance of curved forms: oval niches, circular ceiling recesses and apses, and sinuous hallways. Ethan found the serpentine layout disconcerting, preferring the neatness of right angles and corners and edges.

They crossed a circular anteroom to a private suite. The butler showed them into a gentleman’s room lined with rich dark paper, gold trim and millwork, with thick crimson carpeting underfoot. Heads of exotic animals had been mounted on the wall: a lioness, a cheetah, a white wolf, and other carnivora. A fire had been lit in the heart, flames springing and writhing as they consumed crackling splits of oak. The air was as hot as blood.

The butler departed, closing the door behind him.

Ethan’s heart thumped uncomfortably as he saw Jenkyn sitting by the fireplace, a sheaf of papers in hand.

“Gamble,” Jenkyn said without looking up from the pages. “Bring your guest over here, and deliver your report.”