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There were promissory notes adding up to an enormous sum, sketched maps of Windsor Castle and the surrounding grounds, lists of guards on duty and a list of drugs that were all lethal.
There were even letters written in French that were supposedly from some cohort that warned Jean-Pierre to murder the king before the end of the year if he expected to collect his reward.
“These are the exact copies of the papers that they found in Jean-Pierre’s possession the night he was arrested,” he told his companion. He lifted one of the letters to point toward the small etching in the bottom corner. “Here. This is the mark Jean-Pierre noticed.”
Carlos frowned. “Looks like a scribble.”
“Actually, it’s a hieroglyph.”
“How can you tell? I thought you hated anything Egyptian.”
“Only when it is costing me a large fortune to fund my father’s idiotic expeditions,” Philippe retorted. “But this particular hieroglyph happens to be very familiar to me. It is the mark of an ancient prince. To be precise it is the mark of the prince that my father unearthed from his tomb nearly twenty years ago.”
“Are you certain, Philippe?” Carlos reached to pluck one of the maps from the desk. “These papers are mere copies, and as fine as your henchmen might be, I doubt that any of them would be able to accurately copy something like a hieroglyph.”
Philippe smiled. “I hired a trained forger to assist my associates. Believe me, he has a talent for the finest detail. Besides, Jean-Pierre recognized it, as well.”
“Which is why we have been searching the roads and posting inns for some mysterious Frenchman from your father’s past?” Carlos demanded.
“Precisely.”
“Now what?”
Philippe took a moment to consider. It was far too late to accomplish much this evening, but there was one task he needed completed.
“I want you to go to Newgate and get a message to Jean-Pierre that I have arrived in London.”
Carlos glanced toward the window. “At this hour?”
“You are weary?”
“Yes, but I was thinking more about the guards. I doubt they will be willing to allow me to visit Jean-Pierre at this hour.”
“I do not have a doubt in the world.” He reached into the inner pocket of his jacket and tossed his friend his leather purse. There was enough money within to bribe a dozen guards. Besides, he had already managed to use what influence he possessed with the king to ensure that Jean-Pierre was being held in a cell that was separated from the common riffraff. “When you see him, do not say my name. The guards will be bound to listen and I don’t wish them to know that I have arrived. Simply say that you brought his favorite hunter to town. He will know what you mean.”
“Fine.” Carlos pocketed the money with a grimace. “But, you had best hope that your brother has learned a few lessons in humility while he’s been in prison. I promised myself that I would beat him bloody the next time we met.”
Philippe clapped his friend on the shoulder. “I promise you can beat him bloody as often as you like once we have him out of Newgate.”
“I will hold you to that.”
CHAPTER FIVE
ONCE ALONE IN THE BARREN room, Raine wrapped her arms about her trembling body and sternly dismissed the memory of Philippe’s kisses.
Why waste her time dwelling on her giddy reaction to his touch? The man was clearly an expert in seduction. He had only to be near for her heart to beat quicker and her skin to tingle with awareness. It was a dark longing that she feared would plague her until she was far away from the hateful man.
She would do better to concentrate on finding some means of escape.
Unfortunately, it did not take long for her to realize that it was a futile exercise.
The door was thick and impossible to budge no matter how she pushed, and the one window was far too narrow for even her slender form. Even worse, the rooms were bare except for a decrepit cradle and small bed.
She had nothing that could possibly be used as a weapon for when her captor returned.
“Welcome to London, Raine Wimbourne,” she muttered wryly.
When she had dreamed of this moment, her fantasies had certainly not included being dressed in her father’s cast-off clothing and being held prisoner in a musty attic.
