Page 8 of The Big Bad Duke (The Shadows #9)

G ideon’s heart thudded against his ribs as he stared into the far corner of the cell. His eyes adjusted slowly, sifting through layers of darkness, trying to distinguish the shadows from the person within them.

Then the chains clinked.

A small, subtle sound.

A confirmation. He was not imagining things; there was indeed someone in the room with him.

Not just someone. Another prisoner.

Gideon pushed off the wall as much as the chain would allow, the sudden movement making his head throb, and narrowed his gaze.

“Who’s there?” he asked, his voice low and rough.

Silence.

Whoever it was, they stilled but only for a moment.

When they moved again, they sat up, propping themselves against the far wall, mirroring his own position.

His voice sharpened, the edge of a blade in his tone. “Who the fuck is there?”

For a moment, there was a beat of silence. And then an exhale of someone too tired to even respond.

“You know who’s here,” finally came the answer.

He knew that voice.

He recognized her instantly. It was the woman responsible for his capture.

* * *

Fourteen days earlier…

Gideon adjusted his evening gloves, checking his reflection in the hall mirror. His black coat fit perfectly, and his cravat was tied in neat folds. He looked every inch the gentleman preparing for an evening out.

He was heading to Kensington’s charity ball—not to revel in festivities, of course, nor even to donate to the cause. He had a mission of his own.

He’d heard that Norfolk would be there, and he hoped to catch him alone in an empty, dark room.

And that was it. That was the only reason for the flutter in his belly.

It was not because he’d heard that Leila was going to be there, too.

No. He was determined to avoid the woman completely. She was trouble for him emotionally, and she was trouble for him physically. She was trouble. Period.

Someone was after her, and Gideon couldn’t stick his nose where it didn’t belong. He had enough problems of his own.

He wasn’t a knight in shining armor. He wasn’t a savior of damsels in distress. She’d have to deal with her issues on her own.

The butler appeared with Gideon’s cloak and walking stick. “Your carriage is ready, my lord.”

“Excellent.” Gideon put on his hat and curled his fingers around the cool wolf-head of his walking stick.

The butler moved to open the front door. The heavy door swung open to reveal the silhouette of a man on the doorstep, his hand raised to knock.

He paused, startled, then stepped forward, the light from the house illuminating his face.

He was nearly as tall as Gideon, muscular, with dark hair and even darker eyes. Stubble covered his jaw, and his simple clothes marked him as no aristocrat.

Everything about him screamed danger.

Ford Gunning.

Gideon’s stomach dropped, though he kept his face impassive. The thief-taker’s reputation was legendary. He was the best manhunter in London.

He was straight-laced, vicious, and incorruptible.

But most importantly, Ford Gunning didn’t make social calls.

“What do you want, Gunning?” Gideon barked.

Gunning didn’t react to his rudeness. “Will you not invite me in?”

“No.”

Gunning glanced back at the dark street. “Aren’t you afraid we’re being watched or listened to?”

Gideon’s fingers tightened around his walking stick. “Whatever you have to say, I’m not interested.”

Gunning shrugged and stepped inside the foyer, pushing past the startled butler.

Hobbes was about to protest, but Gideon waved for him to leave. He then walked to the door and shut it firmly. Turning, he crossed his arms, his expression dry. “By all means, come inside.”

“Thank you.” Gunning’s smile was sharp. “What, no offer of whisky?”

“As you can see, I was leaving.” Gideon pulled out his pocket watch and made a show of inspecting the time, though he didn’t even look at the numbers. “I’m already late—”

“Then you might as well stay home,” Gunning interrupted.

Nobody dared interrupt Gideon. He was almost amused by the thief-taker’s nerve.

“What are you doing here, Gunning?” he asked, affecting boredom.

The thief-taker wandered deeper into the foyer, taking in the expensive paintings and furnishings. “Tsk. Is that any way to treat your guest?”

“Say what you came here to say and be done with it.”

Gunning stopped and fixed his eyes on Gideon. “Fine. What do you know about the recent murders of aristocrats?”

Ah. There it was. Gideon rubbed his chin, pretending to think. “Only what I read in the papers.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

“I have a witness who says otherwise.”

Gideon raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly is this witness saying?”

“That they saw you at the site of at least one murder.”

He shrugged. “That’s hardly compelling evidence of guilt. I was at the ball where Porter was killed, but so were many others. And unlike William, I wasn’t caught red-handed, standing over the body.”

Gunning’s eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, his mind piecing the puzzle together. Had Gideon revealed too much?

“As far as I know, William was convicted of all those murders.”

“He was,” Gunning agreed. “However, the witness I mentioned saw you at a different murder—not Porter’s.”

Gideon’s mind raced. Was the man bluffing? He kept his tone light. “What witness?”

Gunning snorted. “I’m not telling you so you can kill them.”

“I would never kill an innocent person.”

“What’s innocent to you?” Gunning asked, his body tense.

Ah. Whoever the supposed witness was, they weren’t completely innocent, and they mattered to Gunning.

Gideon had a suspicion he knew who it was. A brothel worker, perhaps. One who was sharing quarters with Gunning.

“Someone who isn’t harming others,” he answered. “Someone who hasn’t knowingly caused others harm.”

Gunning leaned forward. “So you admit you’d hurt someone you think isn’t innocent.”

Gideon shrugged. “I wouldn’t say no. You never know what you’re capable of until you’re tested.”

“Say,” Gunning began, casually walking around the foyer like a predator circling its prey, “if Lord Wrexham was involved in some kind of wrongdoing, would you have any problem murdering him?”

A bold question. Surely he wasn’t looking for an actual answer. Rather, he was fishing for Gideon’s reaction. Gideon gave him none. “Are you trying to make me confess to murder?”

“No, no. I wouldn’t do that.” Gunning shrugged. “I’m simply trying to solve it.”

“Well, I think this murder is connected to all the others,” Gideon said casually. “And you had a culprit in your grasp… until he escaped, of course.”

“I know it’s not William,” Gunning said directly.

“Right. Because of your witness.” Gideon let disdain creep into his voice. “The woman who was also a suspect? Not very reliable, wouldn’t you say? And she’s living with you now, isn’t she?” He tsked. “Scandalous.”

For the first time, Gunning’s composure cracked. He stepped toward Gideon. A warning. “You care how you speak about her. As a matter of fact, don’t speak about her at all.”

Gideon raised his arms in mock surrender. “I have nothing against the lady, only against your unsubstantiated accusations.”

“I am not here to accuse you of anything,” Gunning replied.

“Then why are you here?”

“To warn you that I know you did it.”

The words should have been terrifying. Instead, Gideon felt amused.

“That sounds like an accusation to me. But even if you’re right, you’d have to prove it in court.

To my peers. Unless you have more than one witness, you better hope that witness outranks me.

And even then, it’s my word against theirs.

If you had more evidence than your snide remarks, you would have arrested me already.

Otherwise, you’re just wasting both of our time. ”

“I’m not wasting time,” Gunning said. “I’m letting you know that if I figured it out, others will too.”

Gideon studied the thief-taker carefully. His words didn’t feel like a threat; they felt more like a friendly warning. He allowed a cold smile to settle on his face. “You’re being modest. You’re the best thief-taker in London. If you can’t find enough evidence, no one else will.”

Gunning stepped closer. “Some people don’t need evidence. They don’t want to catch the killer; they want to eliminate him.”

Hmm… Gideon’s instincts were correct. The thief-taker was not looking to arrest him, after all.

Interesting.

“They’re welcome to try.”

For a moment, the two men stared at each other in tense silence. Then Gunning stepped back and smiled.

“Enjoy your ball, Wolverstone,” he said, moving toward the door. “Do try to stay alive.”

Gideon tipped his hat.

I can’t make any promises.