“Mr. Hawkes is here to see you, sir.” And then Mr. Pike melted away.
Brundage frowned and swiveled his head toward the door. “What the devil? Pike, did you say . . .”
He froze when he saw Hawkes.
They regarded each other in silence from across a handsome study. Lots of shiny wood and turned legs in here, Hawkes noted. Curtains like heavy velvet waterfalls. A fine globe on a stand. Behind Brundage, gold-embossed titles twinkled from a wall of leather-bound books with uncreased spines. Pristine from being unread.
“Hawkes,” Brundage said finally, brightly. Sounding a trifle more tinselly than usual. “Good of you to come.”
“Of course,” Hawkes said pleasantly. “Nothing short of prison or a violent assault would prevent me from keeping my word. Or of course, death. Death would keep me from it, too.”
At least two seconds elapsed before Brundage spoke.
“I appreciate your attention to duty,” he said politely. His voice betrayed just a hint of strain.
“I am nothing if not dutiful. I’m a great believer in duty. To one’s country. To one’s agreements. I wouldn’t miss our meeting for the world,” Hawkes said sincerely.
Brundage cleared his throat. “Sit down. Care for a drink?” He turned to where his decanter—likely filled by Pike—rested, on a little tray alongside snifters, within arm’s reach of where he sat at the desk.
Hawkes took the chair before him. “Gracious of you to offer, thank you. Have you any cognac?”
Brundage’s hand stilled for a moment on the decanter.
“I fear I must decline the drink this time, Brundage. And I won’t keep you long, as I’m sure you’d like me to return to the important work I’m doing. I wanted to tell you that I’ve acquired some intelligence regardingLady Aurelie’s location that I feel is worth pursuing, and as I’m in the process of verifying it, I do not yet feel it appropriate to share details. Likely you’ve learned over the years that sometimes the information you receive can be misleading. Or downright inaccurate.”
It was, of course, a reference to his own failed assassination.
Hawkes could just imagine the run of Brundage’s thoughts. Was he considering the possibility that Hawkes had discovered nothing incriminating in the books he’d “borrowed” from Harrigan’s? Was he realizing there really was no way to ask Hawkes about it without incriminating himself, or at the very least, inspiring unwelcome curiosity?
“I should think the amount I’m paying you entitles me to some details about the results of your questioning and your search,” Brundage said finally. Politely, seasoned with just a dash of pompousness.
“I’m given to understand that she is sound, if this is a matter of concern to you,” Hawkes said ironically. Given that Brundage hadn’t asked after her health. “And while I respect that you believe that, we negotiated no such thing, and I regret that I cannot accommodate you,” Hawkes managed to say with elegant sincerity. “And yes, you are indeed paying me appropriately, for which I am grateful. One of the first things I learned when I worked for the Alien Office was to budget very well for any service, no matter how unsavory, you wanted completed to your satisfaction. Although I imagine it’s frustrating to believe you’ve been cheated out of something you’ve paid to have done.”
The last words emerged almost silkily.
And suddenly, the very air in the room might as well have been boiling water.
They stared at each other.
Neither one of them blinked.
Brundage was perhaps beginning to realize just how coldly, dangerously furious Hawkes was.
“I’ve a few more questions, which might assist me with my assignment,” Hawkes said finally, mildly, into the silence.
Brundage nodded once, shortly. Mutely.
“Assuming I’m able to locate her, what do you then intend to do?”
“What do you mean, what do I intend to do?” Brundage said tautly.
“I mean, do you intend to capture her in a net? Press gang her to the altar?” He smiled a little, tightly, to convey he was jesting. He wasn’t. “How do you intend to proceed once I inform you whether or not I’ve indeed located her?”
“I intend to talk to her. Surely she’ll understand that returning is the best thing in her circumstances. Her guardian need never know she ran away. We’ll forget it ever happened, and call it jitters. She’s all but alone in the world and surely there are no better options for her. She will be acountess. Tell her she has my heart, now and always.”
Every one of those words felt like a boulder layered on Hawkes’s chest, pressing the breath from him. Revulsion crawled over the back of his scalp, and he felt something cold and primal that was almost fear. Of the sort one felt when confronted with a simple evil.
Was it true? Did Brundage think he loved Aurelie?