Then Came You (The Gamblers #1)(105)

Another part of him was terrified. Lily had sustained her hope for so long…if the source of it was taken away, if Nicole could not be returned to her, she would never be the same. The vibrant laughter and passion that he loved might vanish for good. He had seen people lose what they loved most, and the way it had changed them. His own father had become an empty shell of a man, longing for death because life had lost all power to entice him. Alex wanted to beg Lily to be strong, but he could see that she had no more strength left. Her face was pinched and tired and her eyes were dull.

They arrived in Swans’ Court and Alex escorted Lily to the front door. Burton greeted them with instant concern, staring at Lily questioningly. He looked at Alex. “You’ve returned early, my lord,” he remarked.

Alex didn’t have time to explain anything. He urged his wife forward. “Have her drink a glass of brandy,” he told Burton curtly. “Force it down her throat if necessary. Don’t let her go anywhere. Tell Mrs. Hodges to prepare her a bath. And have someone with her at every moment until I return. Every moment, do you understand?”

“You needn’t worry, my lord.”

Alex exchanged a glance with him and relaxed slightly, reassured by the butler’s calmness. It moved Alex, the realization that Burton, in his own quiet way, had done his best to take care of Lily during the nightmare of the past two years.

“Good God, there’s no need to carry on,” Lily said in a ghost of her usual pert voice, pushing past them into the house. “Make the brandy a double, Burton.” She paused to look back at her husband. “Where the devil are you going?”

The flicker of spirit she showed made Alex feel slightly better. “I’ll tell you when I return. I’ll be home soon.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Lily said wearily. “Nothing that Derek hasn’t already tried.”

In spite of all his sympathy and devotion, Alex found himself giving her a cool, caustic stare. “Apparently it hasn’t occurred to you,” he said pleasantly, “that I have influence in places where Craven doesn’t. Go have your brandy, darling.”

Annoyed by his condescension, Lily opened her mouth to reply, but he had already turned and gone down the steps. He paused at the last step and spoke to her once more. “Tell me the name of the man you hired.”

“Knox. Alton Knox.” She smiled bitterly. “A top-notch Learie officer. The best that money could buy.”

Sir Joshua Nathan had come to prominence as a chief magistrate of the city a few years before, when Alex had used his influence to sponsor and pass a bill creating several new public offices. The political battle had been vicious and bloody, facing opposition from a number of corrupt “trading justices” who were in the habit of altering sentences for gifts of money, women, and even liquor. It had taken Alex months of debating, making speeches, and asking for personal favors in order to push the bill through. Alex had done it not only because of his own belief that the bill was worthy, but because Nathan, a man of integrity and courage, had been a close friend from his school days.

Nathan’s name was always paired with that of Donald Learman, the fiery young magistrate who served at the Westminster office. The two of them shared the same unorthodox beliefs in the method of policing, considering it a “science” that needed to be reformed and improved. Together they had worked to train their officers as meticulously as military squadrons. At first they had been ridiculed by a society accustomed to only the meager protection of aging watchmen. Despite their lack of popularity, the results of their efforts had quickly become apparent, and other precincts were beginning to follow their lead. The members of Nathan and Learman’s crack foot patrols, known as “Learies,” were often privately hired by banks and wealthy citizens.

A lean, well-groomed man with an unassuming presence, Nathan greeted him with a calm, friendly smile. “Hello, Alex. A welcome face from the past.”

Alex reached out to clasp his hand. “I’m sorry to visit at such a late hour.”

“I’m quite accustomed to late hours. The nature of my work. As my wife observes, her only hope of seeing me is in the middle of the day.” Nathan led Alex to his library, and they sat in dark leather chairs. “Now,” he said quietly, “enough pleasantries. The sooner you tell me the problem, the sooner we may set things to rights.”

Alex described the situation as succinctly as possible. Nathan listened thoughtfully, occasionally interrupting with a question. The name of Gavazzi was not recognizable to him, but the mention of Alton Knox seemed to be extremely significant. When Alex concluded his monologue, the magistrate leaned back in his chair, forming a triangle with his thumbs and forefingers as he thought. “Child-stealing is a thriving business in London,” Nathan said cynically. “Attractive little boys and girls are a profitable commodity, efficiently harvested from shops and parks and sometimes right from the nursery. Often they’re sold to buyers in foreign markets. It’s a convenient business—easily dismantled at the first sign of trouble and just as easily resurrected when the scene is clear.”

“You think Gavazzi may be involved in such a scheme?”

“Yes, I’m certain he’s part of a rookery gang. From your description, he doesn’t seem the kind who could manage this on his own.”

The following silence seemed to spin out endlessly, until Alex couldn’t stand it anymore. “Dammit, what is it?”