Page 22 of A Lyon’s Promise (The Lyon’s Den)

F rom the identical, militant stance of Bancroft and two of his sons, the pistol in King’s hand had been necessary to gain entrance at a quarter past midnight.

“What is the meaning of this, Lady Montfort?” Bancroft demanded. “Are you planning to run away with a highwayman?”

“Hardly,” King replied as he stuck the pistol in his waistband.

He felt Lucretia’s trembling and patted the hand she’d placed on his arm.

“Change your tone when speaking to my intended. Lady Montfort does not deserve the sharp edge of your ire.” At the man’s blank look, King shook his head.

“I take it my reputation does not precede me.” Turning to Lucretia, he asked, “Can you credit it?”

Her low chuckle was music to his ears. She trusted him to take the lead and handle the solicitor even at this unusual hour.

“Allow me to introduce myself—name’s Gavin King. My men and I have quite a reputation in and about London for interrogating suspected criminals and putting them behind bars.”

“Never heard of you. No one is admitted to our offices or home after eight o’clock in the evening,” one of the sons remarked.

“No matter who they are,” the other spat.

King looked over his shoulder and motioned for Thompson to join them in the vestibule. “I’ll be leaving one of my men here to ensure that you do not attempt to force us to leave. Two of my other trusted Runners are already stationed outside. Any questions?”

Bancroft’s face flushed a deep red. “I have contacts within the House of Lords. You have no power over me.”

“I am quite certain His Grace, the Duke of Wyndmere, and his brother Earl Lippincott would disagree with you.”

The solicitor drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment. King wondered if the man thought passing out would absolve him of having to answer any questions tonight.

“Thompson, I believe Bancroft requires assistance exhaling.”

That did the trick and had the man roaring, “How dare you!”

King slowly smiled. “You are not the first reluctant solicitor I have dealt with. Thompson, step outside and signal to Jackson and Greeves that their assistance is required to take the prisoners back to Bow Street.”

Bancroft held up a hand. “No need to be hasty. I am quite sure we can rectify this misunderstanding without resorting to brute force—which, I assure you, my contacts within the House of Lords will be quite interested to learn of…in detail.”

King did not bother to respond. Instead, he watched Bancroft’s face while listening for the door to open and close behind him. When it did, he said, “I prefer to have things my way.”

Bancroft turned to his sons, who appeared to be waiting for his signal to act.

Fortunately, Thompson, accompanied by Jackson and Greeves, returned before that occurred.

King’s gaze swept the room once more. His information had indicated Bancroft had three sons working for him. “Where is your other son?”

The man hesitated and looked away from King. “In Sussex, handling a highly sensitive legal matter for our firm. I expect him to return tomorrow afternoon.”

One thing King had learned over the years was to judge someone’s veracity with a few telltale signs.

A man’s shifting his gaze away from you when you were questioning him was one indicator, his inability to stand still while being questioned another.

Lastly, a man’s rapid breathing was also an indicator.

Bancroft was lying to King’s face.

“Men, we’ll be taking Bancroft and two of his sons to Bow Street. I’d advise binding the sons’ hands.” Sending a look of challenge at Bancroft, King added, “I believe their father will go along quietly.”

“There is no need to drag us all down to Bow Street when a simple conversation could clear up whatever brought you here tonight.”

At last, King had the concession he was waiting for.

Bancroft grudgingly led them back along the dimly lit hallway to his offices.

Before the solicitor entered the large meeting room, King nodded to Greeves to enter first. The man waited for Bancroft to follow and light the lamp on his desk and two others on tables between massive bookcases.

The illumination decreased the possibility of anyone hiding in the shadows.

With his hand to the small of Lucretia’s back, King urged, “After you, my dear.” Her trembling had ceased with his earlier touch, and pride surged through him. She was willing to face these men who had reportedly been fleecing her for the last ten years.

He did wonder how she would react when she learned the truth.

He sensed she would demand justice when the fraudulent practices Bancroft had been rumored to be involved in were uncovered.

King would see to it that the man and his sons were held responsible for their deceit and forced to make monetary reparations.

Ideally, they would face the prospect of being brought to trial and tossed in a cell.

At King’s nod, Greeves moved past him to stand guard outside the door.

Thompson and Jackson stood like bookends on opposite sides of the room.

Bancroft pulled out a chair at the head of the table and nodded for his sons to do the same.

When he sat, they sat. Just as King had thought, they took their cues from their father.

“We are here to read the codicil Lord Montfort added to his will a few weeks before his passing,” King said.

Bancroft shot up from his seat. “If that is all you wanted, come back during business hours.” With his sons flanking him, the man clearly thought he could intimidate King.

“Men, I believe Bancroft rose in order to retrieve Lord Montfort’s file.” King’s gaze locked on Bancroft. “Help him.”

“You do not have any authority—”

“As Lord Montfort’s widow,” Lucretia interjected, “I do. I would ask you to kindly retrieve the codicil to my husband’s will, along with the will itself and any and all papers that you have regarding his estates.”

Bancroft bent to place his hands flat on the table. “No one is permitted to read his lordship’s legal documents.”

“I’m sorry to have wasted this trip, Gavin.” Lucretia’s tone belied the temper in her eyes. “It appears that Mr. Bancroft and his sons prefer to hold this discussion in your offices on Bow Street.”

Bancroft’s sons shot out of their chairs, lunging for the door.

Before they could make good on their escape, they were caught.

“Bind their hands behind their backs and return them to their seats,” King said.

“When his men had done so, he continued, “Now then, Bancroft, do you wish to leave your offices in the same manner as your sons, as one of our prisoners?”

At last, the man shook his head. “I shall fetch the files you requested, but it will take a few moments. I keep them under lock and key upstairs.”

Immediately on edge, King asked, “And why is that? What have you to hide?”

Bancroft narrowed his eyes and walked toward the door without replying. Jackson grabbed hold of his arm while reaching for one of the lighted lamps. “Allow me to escort you.”

“I do not require an escort.”

Jackson grunted. “Move!”

Greeves stepped to the side as they exited the room.

King watched their departure for a moment before turning back to the man’s sons.

“Now then, if you do not want to spend the next decade or more in a cell opposite your father’s, tell me everything you know about Lord Montfort’s codicil and how much money your father extorted from Lady Montfort. ”

Their twin expressions of horror were punctuated by a loud thump from overhead. King shoved to his feet to stand in front of Lucretia. “Greeves!” His man dashed toward the stairs, his feet pounding on the treads.

“FIRE!” The shouted word had Bancroft’s sons rushing toward the door.

“Untie us! We have to leave now!” one of them urged. “It’s a tinderbox up there with all of the files Father keeps upstairs.”

“Help Jackson and Greeves,” King told Thompson. “I’ll escort Lady Montfort and Bancroft’s sons outside.”

“We can’t leave without our father.”

King nodded. “I understand your need to remain and wait for your father. It is admirable. Would you be willing to be tied to your chairs until he returns?” At their blank expressions, he added, “Given how you feel about your father, it occurred to me that you would dash upstairs and try to hamper my men’s ability to overpower your father and other brother. ”

The brothers exchanged a glance before slumping their shoulders in defeat. “We’ll go with you,” one said.

“I thought you might.” King led Lucretia and the men into the darkened hallway. He was not surprised to be met by two of Coventry’s men in front of the building. “Tremayne, Bayfield, excellent timing.”

Tremayne nodded to the prisoners. “What did we miss?”

“Bancroft’s other son must have jumped Jackson. I sent him upstairs with Bancroft to retrieve a legal document essential to Lady Montfort’s future.”

“I’ll stay here,” Bayfield said. “You go with King,” he told Tremayne.

The other man frowned and looked up. “Bloody hell—they set something on fire?”

“Aye,” King answered as Tremayne sprinted toward the door. “Bayfield, I’m trusting the most important person in my life into your care. Do not let anything happen to Lucretia!”

“You have my word.”

King chased after Tremayne. They took the stairs two at a time, and discovered the door locked. “On three.”

Tremayne inclined his head and began to count. On three, they threw their powerful shoulders against the door, breaking through into the smoke-filled upper rooms. “Greeves? Jackson?” King called.

“Over here,” Greeves answered. “Bastard skewered Jackson with his blade when he entered the room. I stopped Bancroft from bludgeoning him over the head with that iron doorstop.”

“Jackson, can you walk?” King asked.

“Aye, with help. Blackguard got me good… Can’t feel my side.”

“Tremayne, get Jackson downstairs so we can see assess his injury. Greeves, have you got a good grip on Bancroft’s son?”

“You aren’t taking me anywhere!”