W.O.R. offices as she could get. The din and dirt of the city was a welcome balm to her troubled soul.
All she had to do was find Luke. He could be anywhere in London, making her task much like attempting to find a hairpin in a pile of automaton scrap. But if that was what she had to do to save his life, to have him return to her, then she would do it, even if it meant putting herself in danger.
The pavement was wet, but the rain had stopped, so she didn’t open her umbrella on the way to her carriage. Gibbs stood by the gleaming vehicle, smoking a cigarette. He threw the rolled tobacco to the ground when he spotted her, crushing it beneath his heel.
Normally she would inquire as to how he spent his time, or thank him for being there when she returned, but she couldn’t summon the energy to put on a smile and be the good lady.
Gibbs opened the carriage door for her. “Is everything all right, ma’am? If you’ll excuse my impertinence, you look a little pale.”
Arden smiled wearily as she stepped up. God love the man for being such a pet. “Just tired, Gibbs. Do not fret. ’Tis nothing a strong cup of tea and a nap cannot cure.” If only it was truly that simple.
“I’ll get you home straightaway, my lady. You just sit back and get some rest.” He closed the door as soon as she was inside, and hopped up onto the bench.
Arden was just about to take his advice when she noticed something on the seat across from her. Frowning, she leaned forward to investigate and gasped at what she saw.
Lying on the cushions was a freshly cut, almost bloodred poppy—her favorite flower.
Someone had been in her carriage. Someone had known exactly where to find her and had left this flower so she would know she was being watched. Followed.
And only one person had ever given her poppies before. It was why she had carried a bouquet of them the day she married him. It seemed she might not have to search out her husband after all.
He was going to come to her.
Chapter 4
She was so beautiful it was a shame to have to kill her.
Five watched from the shadows outside the mansion as his prey stood inside, drinking her third glass of champagne served by gleaming automatons that were little more than silver trays on top of moving dustbins. She was surrounded by a small crowd made up of what he assumed were old friends and new admirers, listening intently to what she had to say.
And what man in his proper mind wouldn’t admire her? She wasn’t a conventional beauty—her features were too strong for that—but she was the kind of woman a body didn’t forget, who drew men to her like moths to a lamp. She gave off a wounded air, which attracted the predator within him, but he had been at this intrigue long enough to recognize danger when he saw it. She was no more weak or helpless than he was.
She had gotten his gift, but unlike most women who would have been frightened by such an invasion of privacy, she flaunted it, wearing the bright flower in the upswept mass of her russet hair. It was a bold accessory, made all the more so by her lack of jewelry save for small gold earrings, and pale gold gown. His instinct had been correct—poppies suited her.
“Do you have her?”
For the first time in a long while he was annoyed by the intrusive voice in his head, coming through the tiny mechanism implanted in his ear. “I’m watching her now.”
“What is the delay?”
“I can’t very well walk into the ballroom and strangle her.”
A very pregnant pause followed, and for a moment he thought his employer was gone. “ You will do it tonight.”
His sigh sounded like a growl even in his own ears. “That is my intention.”
“Do not make me regret choosing you for this mission.”
Five gritted his teeth. How tempting it was to tell the man to go bugger himself. Instead, he said nothing and went back to watching the lady whose life he was expected to take. Pity, that.
“Five?”
“I’ll do it.” He clenched his jaw
All she had to do was find Luke. He could be anywhere in London, making her task much like attempting to find a hairpin in a pile of automaton scrap. But if that was what she had to do to save his life, to have him return to her, then she would do it, even if it meant putting herself in danger.
The pavement was wet, but the rain had stopped, so she didn’t open her umbrella on the way to her carriage. Gibbs stood by the gleaming vehicle, smoking a cigarette. He threw the rolled tobacco to the ground when he spotted her, crushing it beneath his heel.
Normally she would inquire as to how he spent his time, or thank him for being there when she returned, but she couldn’t summon the energy to put on a smile and be the good lady.
Gibbs opened the carriage door for her. “Is everything all right, ma’am? If you’ll excuse my impertinence, you look a little pale.”
Arden smiled wearily as she stepped up. God love the man for being such a pet. “Just tired, Gibbs. Do not fret. ’Tis nothing a strong cup of tea and a nap cannot cure.” If only it was truly that simple.
“I’ll get you home straightaway, my lady. You just sit back and get some rest.” He closed the door as soon as she was inside, and hopped up onto the bench.
Arden was just about to take his advice when she noticed something on the seat across from her. Frowning, she leaned forward to investigate and gasped at what she saw.
Lying on the cushions was a freshly cut, almost bloodred poppy—her favorite flower.
Someone had been in her carriage. Someone had known exactly where to find her and had left this flower so she would know she was being watched. Followed.
And only one person had ever given her poppies before. It was why she had carried a bouquet of them the day she married him. It seemed she might not have to search out her husband after all.
He was going to come to her.
Chapter 4
She was so beautiful it was a shame to have to kill her.
Five watched from the shadows outside the mansion as his prey stood inside, drinking her third glass of champagne served by gleaming automatons that were little more than silver trays on top of moving dustbins. She was surrounded by a small crowd made up of what he assumed were old friends and new admirers, listening intently to what she had to say.
And what man in his proper mind wouldn’t admire her? She wasn’t a conventional beauty—her features were too strong for that—but she was the kind of woman a body didn’t forget, who drew men to her like moths to a lamp. She gave off a wounded air, which attracted the predator within him, but he had been at this intrigue long enough to recognize danger when he saw it. She was no more weak or helpless than he was.
She had gotten his gift, but unlike most women who would have been frightened by such an invasion of privacy, she flaunted it, wearing the bright flower in the upswept mass of her russet hair. It was a bold accessory, made all the more so by her lack of jewelry save for small gold earrings, and pale gold gown. His instinct had been correct—poppies suited her.
“Do you have her?”
For the first time in a long while he was annoyed by the intrusive voice in his head, coming through the tiny mechanism implanted in his ear. “I’m watching her now.”
“What is the delay?”
“I can’t very well walk into the ballroom and strangle her.”
A very pregnant pause followed, and for a moment he thought his employer was gone. “ You will do it tonight.”
His sigh sounded like a growl even in his own ears. “That is my intention.”
“Do not make me regret choosing you for this mission.”
Five gritted his teeth. How tempting it was to tell the man to go bugger himself. Instead, he said nothing and went back to watching the lady whose life he was expected to take. Pity, that.
“Five?”
“I’ll do it.” He clenched his jaw
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