Page 4 of Claimed by Her Forbidden Duke (Forbidden Lords #6)

Chapter Four

“O h, Your Grace,” golden-haired Julian Gray said brightly, slight sarcasm lacing the title, once he’d opened the door.

The flick of reins sounded faintly from the street, following the rushed footsteps, and Edmund knew Lady Penelope had left.

Good .

He didn’t need to further waste his time.

He sighed as Gray had taken his very indulgent time to answer.

Blue eyes shone mischievously. “You did not have to give a lady’s name to seek me out.” Julian leaned against the doorjamb, his mouth pulled up into a half grin. “Unless you are indeed here to seek my particular services.”

Edmund rolled his eyes and gave his old acquaintance a withering look. “Do not flatter yourself, Gray. You know you are not my type.”

“I could be if you were only bold enough to try. Plenty of men?—”

Edmund shook his head. “Just let me in, Julian.”

“All right, all right. No need to bite, Your Grace. Well, come to think of it, I wouldn’t mind it that much if you?—”

“Gray,” Edmund hissed.

“Pardon me. I got carried away. Please, come in.” Julian stepped back, gesturing with his hand for him to enter.

As Julian led him through the corridors, he sighed. “And to think I applied my best scent ahead of your knock. Why did you give a lady’s name, or even book an appointment with me?”

“I did not,” Edmund answered once they arrived at the drawing room.

The walls were decorated lavishly, with deep teal and emerald splashed all over the ceiling and the wallpaper. It all hinted at an intimate gathering, and while Edmund knew Julian mostly conducted business in a service bedroom upstairs—not his own—he thought that some activities may have happened here.

He’d already had a long night, so he did not hesitate to sit down in a deep armchair, sighing.

“Hmm.” Julian nodded as he walked to the bar set up against the far wall, pouring two drinks. He offered one to Edmund, who gratefully took it. “Then it appears that our meeting might be cut short if the lady I’m expecting is running late. Or I shall have to follow up with who booked it.”

For a moment, Lady Penelope’s face flashed in Edmund’s mind, but he didn’t say anything about his exchange with her outside.

He would not reveal her identity or presence there. The risks of Julian recognizing her had been her own to take; he would not action them for her. Besides, he wished to stay focused. He needed answers, and he had already let himself get waylaid by Lady Penelope.

“How is business?” he asked as Julian brought the brandy bottle over.

He took in his acquaintance’s attire: a burgundy waistcoat, no cravat, and the top buttons of his shirt undone. He had breeches on that seemed comfortably fitting, his whole aura rather at ease.

“Very well,” Julian said. “You would not believe the client I had only this morning. Well, in all honesty, I do not laugh at her but feel empathy. She was an older dowager, nearing fifty, and she spoke of not having any intimacy for some time since her husband’s death. She teared up halfway through and asked me if she was betraying her husband.” His brow creased. “I told her she was not, but we stopped regardless. I offered her a cup of tea.”

Edmund only snorted, trying to imagine his friend’s bewilderment at his seduction turning into a cozy tea.

“You can be very soft, you know.”

“She reminded me of my former mistress,” Julian admittedly quietly. “I was quite taken with her presence. I do hope she returns.”

“You are after an older woman now?” Edmund teased.

“Heavens, no, but I looked at her and saw Madame Maricel, strangely enough.”

At the name of Julian’s former employer, Edmund’s mouth tightened. “I see.”

“I think of her often,” Julian continued, sipping at his brandy. “She looked after me when I was… well, I suppose you and I were both doing what we had to in order to survive out there. I think of visiting there sometimes.”

“Why?” Edmund’s question came out a touch too sharp. “The Caribbean is the very last place in the world I would wish to go. There are enough horrific memories out there to last me a lifetime.”

Julian was already nodding, shrugging his shoulders. “I know, I know. I only think that it would be something to behold. Going back of my own accord, not because I was forced to be there, to sell myself in such ways.”

“Gray.” Edmund laughed, incredulous. “You are the most renowned escort in London. You can refuse business that you dislike. You have full control of your life now. Do not reminisce on such days. You made it out of that place alive—we both did.”

Julian nodded again, biting his lip, before he looked at Edmund. “Do you recall the day we met? Heavens, it was hotter than an Indian summer out there. I recall being laughed at for being so pale and complaining of being burnt to a crisp beneath the sun. You walked by my spot and stopped. Goodness, do you remember how I called out to you?”

Edmund’s snort was lost in his glass as he drank deeply. “You asked me if I sought a pleasurable time. It seems some things do not get old.”

“Yes, but back then, it was rather serious. I hoped you had the coin for me to… well, escape. You looked well-to-do. Even more so now, of course. I recall you telling me very strongly that you were not looking for any sort of time except to get back to your base. And then you told me, very firmly, that I did not look able to stand for more than five minutes, and therefore I had no hope of showing anybody a good time.” Julian let out a bark of laughter. “Ah, I am grateful I met you that day—misguided seduction aside.”

It never bothered Edmund how Julian spoke of seducing clients, men and women alike. He did not know his friend’s true feelings on such matters and never asked. Some things were private, and he respected that.

“Regardless,” Julian added quickly, knocking back the remainder of his drink. “Congratulations on Logan’s death.” He eyed Edmund for a long moment before pouring himself a second drink. “I never got to toast your freedom, so here. Let us do it now.”

“And yours,” Edmund pointed out.

Julian refilled their glasses, and they clinked the rims together before drinking. It felt strange to toast his own freedom, something he should have had regardless, but the death of his former employer was very much something to celebrate.

As he swallowed, Edmund shook his head. “I should have killed Logan myself.”

Julian frowned, taking a generous swig of brandy. “No. No, you should not have. You are no killer, Edmund. You are a better man than that, and we both know it.”

Sometimes I do not think that , Edmund thought privately, but outwardly, he only smiled tightly.

He would not show such vulnerabilities. Instead, he refocused his efforts on his search.

“I actually did come here for a reason.” He half laughed. “Do you know of any local connections to Logan? Anyone at all who could have been behind the kidnapping? I have only been back for two months, so I have not had a chance to properly investigate, with my father’s dukedom being passed on to me. Benjamin will not stop trailing me wherever I go, so I find myself being careful not to stray too deeply into the darkest of places. You and I both know that connections to Logan would be found in those places.”

“Indeed,” Julian muttered. “Logan’s network is far bigger and more dangerous than you might realize. It is not only London that would hold your answers. The man had a far reach in the Caribbean. Europe. Spain, France, even further out. London was nothing but a playground for that man.”

“I need leads,” Edmund said decisively.

“The danger, Edmund?—”

“I have already faced that danger,” he growled, his fingers tightening on his glass. In a calmer voice, he spoke, “I have faced that danger and fought my way out of it. I will be more careful this time, and I will not let anything happen to me, nor Arabella.”

“Ah, your beautiful sister. As beautiful as a summer rose?—”

“You shall keep your eyes off my sister, you heathen.” Edmund shot him a glare. “I need leads, Gray.”

Julian paused, realizing that his efforts to distract had not worked. Eventually, he nodded, his face grim. “Very well. Follow them if you must, but do it at your own risk. Make sure that Benjamin does not follow you to any of these places—they are not for pretty-faced lords like him.”

Edmund only nodded, waiting.

With a sigh, Julian listed the places. “There is a gambling den, the Four-Fingered Hand, that Logan was known to frequent. Some say it is lucky due to the name, others say it is most unlucky for that same reason. Then, there is a man who goes by the name of Charles Thatcher. He was a close accomplice of Logan?—”

“Gray—”

“Let me finish.”

Edmund swallowed, foolish fear kicking into his heart at the mention of one of Logan’s men.

For a second, he knew he was sitting in an armchair in his friend’s drawing room, but he swore hands grasped his clothing.

A sack was thrown over his head.

The scent of some sort of opiate dragged him downward.

Flashes of a boat moving beneath him, his fists bloody from trying to beat his way out of his bonds, his voice hoarse from screaming.

He blinked, registering Julian’s words quickly.

“Thatcher has been rumored to have turned on Logan after a falling out. He’s now a recluse, hiding outside of London, in a large mansion. I suspect that he has information but will not speak openly. Paranoia has likely gotten to him, and I do not blame him, but he is a name.”

“Very well. I shall seek him out.”

“Lastly, there is a warehouse on the docks—a suspicious sort, linked to Logan’s activities. It is likely how he gets his captives shipped out without being noticed.”

Immediately, Edmund’s thoughts went to Haddon from the tavern earlier that night, but he quickly shut down the notion. He had investigated the man’s documents closely enough that nothing arose beyond the ordinary shady transportation of illegal substances. Nothing about humans. Nothing about Logan’s funding, either.

Still, there might be other things he had kept to himself. Shady recognized shady; out of fear or loyalty, they all kept an eye on one another.

“Thank you,” Edmund said once Julian fell silent.

Julian winced. He drank straight from his brandy bottle. “I am not thrilled to tell you these things, Edmund. I want you to tread lightly.”

“I need to know who hired Logan, and why. I do not care where it takes me. Someone out there owes me a lot of answers.”

Grimly, Julian nodded. “Then all I can do now is wish you luck and offer my support, should you need it.”

“I may do in keeping my cousin occupied—and no, not in that way. He would be scandalized.”

Julian’s eyes sparkled. “Perhaps that is what some people need for their eyes to be opened.”

“Not my cousin,” Edmund retorted, draining his second drink.

“Very well,” Julian sighed. “After all, I do owe you.”

Edmund nodded, set down his glass, and rose to his feet. “Enjoy your night.”

“Oh, I shall. I am sure my lady friend shall appear any moment, so do make sure to go unseen, lest you be the star of the scandal sheets tomorrow morning.”

Julian’s teasing call followed Edmund right out of the townhouse, reminding him of Lady Penelope.

Little did his friend know that his next appointment would not arrive. Unless she was bolder than she had seemed and would find a way to lead herself back to Julian’s house.

With the thought of tempting, fawn-haired Lady Penelope still haunting him, Edmund disappeared into the night.