I won’t have a future if I don’t find a way to get Sinclair to talk.
She pulled her thoughts away from the impossible to focus on the improbable. Getting the truth from a devil.
‘Did my husband’s debt to you play a role in his untimely death?’
11
Sinclair shifted a glass of water on his desk a fraction to the left. ‘I would be careful about ’oo you are accusing of a crime, Lady Burrows.’
God only knew what Helena was hearing. Hopefully, something that would help them locate Hubert’s murderer.
Helena took a step closer to the desk. ‘You sent a note reminding the Marquess of Kentmore that he was overdue in paying his debt. What was the phrase you used… “breaking a deal with the Devil carries profound consequences”, I believe. You’ve made it quite clear that you don’t take kindly to your orders being ignored. So, I wonder, what kind of consequences did you have in mind for Hubert?’ She put both hands flat on his desk, leaning closer in a show of courage that had Cynthia both worried and impressed. ‘Excommunication from your club? A strongly worded reprimand? Or perhaps you wanted to send a message to the other wealthy lords in your pocket. Defy the terrifying Damien Sinclair and you’ll end up just like the Marquess of Kentmore. Murdered. Death is arguably the most profound consequence of all, wouldn’t you say… Devil of Seven Dials?’
Sinclair tucked a hand in his pocket, a seemingly disarming gesture. Cynthia wondered what weapon he might keep hidden there. The same blade used to kill her husband, perhaps? ‘Miss Blair.’ He paused, contemplating her name like a puzzle. ‘There’s a superintendent at Scotland Yard ’as nieces with the name of Blair. Lachlan MacDougal. A Scottish bastard with an ’ead thicker than two planks. ’eard of him?’
Helena’s jaw jumped.
Alarm skittered over Cynthia’s skin like a million spiders scuttling to and fro. There wasn’t a chance in Hades that Helena wouldn’t rise to her uncle’s defence. And by doing so, play right into the Devil’s hand. Because he was looking for a weakness. And love made everyone weak.
Sinclair kept speaking in his low, rough growl. ‘The man ’as a real vendetta against me. ’auled me down to Newgate without an ’int of evidence regarding this exact case.’ A muscle in his cheek ticked as he turned to Cynthia. ‘But you must know that already, being the widow. Tell me, did you ’ear of MacDougal’s failure and decide to try your ’and at investigating?’ He tipped his chin towards Helena. ‘Dragged along one of ’is nieces for good measure? Rumour ’as it they sometimes help ’im on his cases. Must be embarrassing for the great Superintendent Lachlan MacDougal to admit ’e needs assistance. And from girls barely out of the schoolroom at that.’
Cynthia’s stomach clenched as his cold laughter echoed in the room. Everything in her wanted to attack, but he was counting on that. Admitting anything to this man was dangerous at best, deadly at worst.
‘Asking for help from skilled and intelligent individuals – regardless of their sex – is hardly a mark of weakness.’ A ring of moisture framed Helena’s hand. Cynthia wondered if it would leave a stain on the lacquered finish. Perversely, she hoped it did.
‘It’s dangerous to play games with violent men. Just ask the Superintendent. Many a man’s experienced ’is particular interrogation skills. Make no mistake, a job title doesn’t make a man any less of a killer.’ His tongue flicked to the corner of his lip where Cynthia noticed a healing cut.
Did Superintendent MacDougal put that there?
She couldn’t imagine the charming friend of her brother’s acting so violently, but men wore many faces.
‘We have no intention of offering help to you, Mr Sinclair. Whatever methods the Superintendent used to question you pale in comparison to the violence you have committed.’ Helena’s low voice cut through the tension like a sharpened blade.
‘’ow is business at your apothecary shop on Savile Row, Miss Blair?’ The threat emanating from his gravelled tone was unmistakable.
Fear tightened Cynthia’s spine as she realised exactly how dire their circumstances were, trapped in Sinclair’s office with no one to help them should things turn ugly.
Sinclair’s voice was warning smoke threading through a building before it burst into an inferno. ‘It’s frightening ’ow susceptible apothecary shops are to fire. So many flammable products all sitting next to each other in neat little rows of soaps and lotions. ’ave a care, Miss Blair. It would be a shame to ’ear of any ’arm coming to your shop or the women working there.’
Helena visibly paled and took a step backwards.
Fear morphed into something harder within Cynthia. Something hotter and fiercely protective. Slamming her hand onto the desk between them, she reclaimed his attention. ‘Do not threaten her.’
She is mine.
The thought came unbidden and she snapped her mouth shut before it could escape. Breathing through her nose, she forced herself to calm. Helena did not belong to her. The enigmatic woman would never belong to anyone but herself. But Cynthia would be damned if she let this bastard hurt her.
‘Miss Blair is here at my behest. Any issue you have with my husband, the investigation into his murder, or the debt he owes will be taken up with me alone. Do you understand?’
He would not touch Helena.
This was her mess. Helena would not be hurt because of whatever nightmare Hubert had dragged Cynthia into with his unconscionable actions.
Sinclair picked up a letter opener that sat on his left and examined it closely. The edge was sharp as it glinted in the light, as dangerous as any knife. His gaze flicked up. ‘If you care so greatly for Miss Blair’s safety, you should never ’ave brought her into my kingdom. I will threaten ’omever I like.’ He blinked, tapping the letter opener against a wide palm. ‘I didn’t kill your ’usband, though it was no less than ’e deserved.’
The glass of water tipped, spilling over the papers in front of him.
‘Fucking ’ell!’ He snatched the parchment and leapt to his feet before the liquid dripped off the desk and onto his lap. Ink blurred across the pages he shook, turning neat rows of numbers into indecipherable blotches. His low curses were vicious, but Cynthia couldn’t stop the surge of pleasure as she glanced at Helena. Her waterwitch didn’t take kindly to Sinclair’s bullying. Neither did she.
