Darcy shook his head. “Didn’t see their face. The cloak had a hood. But they were tall and skinny, and they were sneaking into the guest wing. I left Philip following them and came straight here.”
Thomas’s gut tightened, and the hair prickled on the back of his neck. He took the time to check the knife in the hidden sheath in his boot before setting off for the castle at a run. Darcy ran alongside him, and they only slowed when they reached the side door that led into the laundry. Lowering his voice, Thomas said, “Did you see where they went exactly?”
Darcy nodded. “Philip and I followed them past the first three sets of rooms and then they turned off to the left, so I came to get you.”
Thomas bit back a curse. That particular passage led to the rooms where the Viscount of Calthrope was staying. He was a squat, unpleasant little man who was an insufferable bore, buthe was also rumoured to be a favourite of the Calthropite king. If anything happened to him, there would be hell to pay.
“Well done. Go back to your post. I’ll take it from here.” He patted Darcy on the shoulder. When the guard left, Thomas didn’t take the stairs to the guest wing. Instead, he made use of a myriad of hidden passages that would take him there without alerting anyone to his presence.
He emerged minutes later in the guest quarters through a concealed doorway. He exchanged a nod with Philip, who was hovering near the end of the hallway, and jerked his head toward the stairs, indicating the other man should go back to his post. Whatever was happening, Thomas was confident he could handle it himself, and he saw no need to put one of his men at risk.
Once Philip had left, Thomas slipped quietly along the passage leading toward the viscount’s quarters. The door was ajar and as Thomas crept silently closer, he heard the low rumble of voices. He eased the door open. By the light of the flames flickering in the fireplace, he could just make out the viscount’s stout outline and a second taller figure that was little more than a dark shape. They appeared to be embracing.
His shoulders sagged with relief. They were lovers.
Then the viscount made a desperate, wheezing noise and Thomas froze.
Wait.
Thomas had taken his share of men to bed, and none of them had ever made a noise like that. He squinted against the darkness just as the logs in the fireplace shifted, causing a shower of sparks. The flare of bright light lasted only moments, but it was enough to make it clear what was happening.
The shrouded figure wasn’t embracing the viscount. He waschokinghim.
Thomas was momentarily frozen, but it only took a split second before his years of training kicked in and instinct took over. He drew the knife out of his boot and slipped silently into the room, creeping up behind the hooded figure. He clamped one hand over the stranger’s mouth and with his other hand pressed the tip of his blade to their throat.
The figure tensed and then grasped the viscount’s skull, displaying a surprising amount of strength as they twisted it viciously to the side. There was a sickening crack, loud in the silence, and a moment later the viscount’s body tumbled to the floor with a thud.
Thomas stared down in dismay. The viscount was utterly and undeniably dead, his head tilted at an unnatural angle that would have been incredibly painful if he hadn’t already been dead. And Thomas hadn’t been able to stop his murder.
A wave of helpless fury swept over him, and using all his considerable strength, he spun the hooded figure around and slammed his back against the door. The man let out a low grunt and went to fight back, but Thomas pressed his blade more firmly against his throat. “Don’t move,” he growled, and reached out and snatched back the stranger’s hood.
A pair of familiar green eyes stared back at him.
Thomas froze, his brain screeching to a halt. He closed his eyes for a moment in case he was seeing things, but when he opened them again, he still had the Duke of Ravenport pinned to the door with a knife at his throat. “You… you just killed the viscount,” he said, swallowing thickly.
“To be fair,” Evan said with a nonchalance that was almost disconcerting, “he deserved it. Now, are you going to help me get rid of the body or not?”
Chapter Four
Thomas wasn’t sure what was more shocking—that Evan Devere, all-round hapless idiot, had just killed a man with such ruthless efficiency or that he was so casual about asking Thomas to help him with body disposal.
No, it was definitely the killing part.
“You…what?”
Evan reached up lightning quick and grasped Thomas’s wrist, pulling his arm away from Evan’s throat. The duke spun Thomas on the spot and twisted his arm halfway up his back before he had time to blink. The knife clattered to the floor and Thomas found himself shoved against the wall with a strength that belied the duke’s lean build.
“That’s better,” Evan said, his breath warm against Thomas’s ear as he pressed against Thomas’s back. “Now, I’ll ask again. Are you going to keep your mouth shut and help me with the body or do I have to kill you as well?”
Thomas threw his head backward sharply, hoping to catch Evan off guard. It was dirty fighting, but since he’d just had his life threatened, he felt this was one of those situations where the rules of sportsmanship probably didn’t apply.
Evan, though, just dodged and laughed. “Captain, you fight like a street brawler! I knew there was a reason I liked you! Mind you,” he added as he yanked Thomas’s arm further up his back, “I also fight dirty.”
Thomas froze as something cold and sharp nudged at his ribs.
What the hell was Evan doing with a knife? He could barely manage cutlery!
Thomas closed his eyes, barely daring to breathe. His mind whirled and spun as he picked through what he knew and tried to make sense of this whole mess.
