Page 58 of When the Duke Met His Match

ODETTE

After the first hour, Odette felt restless, as if she needed to get up and walk around the pub a few times to shake the nerves from her system. By the second hour, she was eager to leave and beyond exhausted.

Her tired limbs begged for rest as time seemed to drag on. She longed to find a comfortable place to sleep and forget about everything. However, she found herself stuck at the table with Theophilus, and an uncomfortable silence hung between them. They attempted to make sense of the discussion, but it appeared to be pointless.

“Must we stay for all hours of the night?” she asked him, leaning so far into the table that she nearly slipped and landed face-first into the surface. She caught herself before it could happen.

“I know we’ve been here for a long time, but we need to wait them out. Any minute now, just you watch,” he murmured, appearing much more alert than she felt.

Perhaps, all his training as an officer made him stubbornly keen to get information. It made her think back to when she was in the interrogation room with him, and he tried every angle to get her to talk. She wanted to laugh at the memory but lacked the energy to.

“I’ve been here long enough to know how many chairs are in this room and what tables have hidden daggers beneath them. I need to sleep.”

“We’ve waited this long. What is another hour?”

The thought of waiting another hour made her insides clench in disapproval, but it seemed she had no other choice but to wait.

“I’m beginning to question this plan,” she mumbled, hardly able to keep her eyes open long enough to look at Theophilus.

He sighed. “I will try my hardest to make it up to you one day, but for now, I need you to cooperate. We can’t leave now, not until they’re gone. We need to corner that informant.”

Odette’s brows came together in question, and she finally lifted her head. “Corner him? Is that our best option?”

“We haven’t been able to catch a single word of their plans so far, but that man seems to know everything about it. Surely if we catch him, we can squeeze out everything he knows.”

It sounded absurd and more trouble than it was worth, but based on the twinkle of determination in Theophilus’ eyes, there would be no talking him out of it.

The sound of moving chairs snagged her attention then, and they both glanced up the moment the small group of men rose from their places and left the table. They moved wordlessly to the front door and left with the informant in tow.

Now is our chance, she thought to herself, looking over at Theophilus for his signal.

When the men were outside, he nodded at her and got up. Together, they followed casually, sure not to make it obvious. Some distance away, the groups of rebels climbed into a carriage that began down the beaten path while the drunken informant remained behind.

The man looked like he was just more than half Theophilus’ size, wearing a tattered cloak that was long dirtied by the streets. She thought it was peculiar for him to be in tatters while the other men were able to pay for a carriage.

He looked around nervously, mumbling to himself despite there being no one else around. He seemed to be on edge, and she wondered if that had to do with being an informant. How many others sought what he knew?

Before Odette could figure out their next move, Theophilus snuck up behind the man and was upon him within seconds. He gripped the back of his cloak and dragged him back into the shadows.

The man flailed and kicked, sputtering his objections, but he was completely overpowered.

Concealed behind the pub, Theophilus gripped his shoulders and pinned the man to the wall.

Shocked by how prepared he was to strike, she could only stand back and watch, trying to feel like she also had a hand in the makeshift interrogation.

A cool breeze whipped through the alleyway, causing a shiver to run through the drunkard’s body. He didn’t wear much beneath his cloak and surely felt every movement of that chill wind.

Theophilus was in his face, teeth grit. “I need you to tell me what you told those men. Refuse to speak and you’ll wish you had.”

The man squirmed and wriggled, but there was no escaping Theophilus’ grasp, not while he was so determined to get those plans and save the king along with their reputations. The informant’s useless flailing continued with his meager punches that never landed.

“I’ll never tell,” he slurred, breathing labored.

“Make this easier for all of us and stop fighting.”

He was far too drunk to put up a proper fight and was no match for Theophilus’ strength. Sighing, the man slumped back against the wall, shoulders slumped. His hood was far too big for him and slouched over his eyes.

He hiccupped. “I don’t report to just anyone.”