“I’ve been observing Lionel Hosey for an hour, and he is definitely watching the players rather than the games. He has been taking notes all evening too. I think it is time to make a move against him,” said Stephen.
Bridget nodded. “Yes, from where I was seated, I could see that he made no effort to engage in conversation with anyone. He also appeared to be taking great interest in one lady who has been consistently winning all night. I wonder if he has decided she is also cheating and might be worthy of extortion.”
“Who is to say that your mother is his only victim.”
“So, what now?”
This was the part of the contract where Stephen would strike out on his own, his client taking a step back, well out of harm’s way. “I think it is time you went home. I shall wait until our friend leaves the party and then go have a word with him.”
“Can’t I come with you? I would like very much to confront this blackguard,” replied Bridget.
Stephen shook his head. “When I said I was going to have a word with Mister Hosey, I meant a firm word. Sometimes that message has to be delivered in a way that is not suitable for others to observe, if you get my meaning.”
This was dangerous work, and while he would love to be able to indulge Bridget’s desire to come face to face with the man who threatened her family, Stephen was not going to ever put her safety in question. She would have to settle, as his many other clients had done, with his reassurances that the matter had been dealt with and was now over.
“Alright, but could you please send word as soon as you can? I won’t sleep a wink until I know this nightmare is at an end,” replied Bridget.
Another party guest passed close by, and Stephen waited until they were out of earshot. He leaned in. “I can go one better. If things are resolved tonight, I shall call upon you in the morning.”
“No. Tonight. I will wait up for you.”
He hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to respond. Her words could be construed in several ways. Was she just going to remain awake to hear his news or was there something else? An offer, perhaps. If he closed the case tonight, Bridget wouldn’t be his client any longer.
And you wouldn’t be mixing business with pleasure.
“Let’s leave now. The sooner I have dealt with Lionel Hosey, the quicker I can be at your place. After that, we can talk,” he said.
She placed a hand on his chest, and her piercing blue eyes met his. “Stay safe and come back to me. I need you.”
As Bridget walked away, Stephen pondered her last words. He couldn’t ever remember a time when a woman had needed him.
Want, yes. Need, never.
Chapter Twenty-Two
When Lionel Hosey finally left the party, Stephen followed him all the way back to Bond Street. He stopped a few yards away as Lionel passed through the entrance which led up to the apartment above the printer’s shop.
He had just taken a step forward, checking the street, when a figure in a hooded black cloak appeared from out of the shadows.
“I changed my mind.”
Bridget?
“What are you doing? I thought we agreed you would go home, and we would talk later,” he said.
“We did, but I decided that I am sick of being made to sit on the edge of my life without having a say in its future. I am coming with you,” she replied.
Taking her firmly by the arm, he hauled her farther up the street and into the doorway of a nearby shop. “No. I am not having you put in danger.”
She shook herself free of his hold. “You said yourself that Lionel Hosey was an amateur. I doubt very much that a man who wields a sketchbook and ink for a living is going to pose any real risk.”
“I don’t care what you think, my answer is no.”
“So be it. I am formally ending our contract. Thank you for your time, Sir Stephen. I shall take things from here.”
She was serious, he was gob smacked.
“And just how do you propose to get him to confess that he is the blackmailer?” There clearly couldn’t be any substance to her bravado. He just had to hold firm and make Bridget see sense.
