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“Thank you. If you hear anything, please let me know.”
“Before you go . . .” Adams unlocked a drawer, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to him. “For last month.”
“Thank you.”
Tia glanced between them both, but kept silent. Braden assumed she wanted to question him about the envelope, but perhaps realized she had no right.
“Good evening, Miss Featherstone,” Adams said with a quick bow. “It was a pleasure meeting you.”
“And you, Mr. Adams.”
“Come along, Miss Featherstone,” Braden said tightly. “We should be leaving now.” And going back to his home, where she would expect him to make love to her.
Oh, dear God, how was he going to resist her?
Chapter 12
Tia’s hands trembled as she clamored into the carriage. But as she sat back against the leather squabs, she noticed a difference in Middleton. He sat across from her stiffly with his arms over his chest. His lips were pressed into a tight line, as if he were angry about something. Perhaps he’d hoped for a more positive outcome tonight.
“Are you all right, Middleton?”
He closed his eyes and nodded. “I am fine. Only worried for my brother.”
“I understand.” She didn’t know how she could have missed the concern on his face. She wanted to ease his burden and reached over to touch his knee. “At least now we have some information.”
“And yet, we still do not know where he is,” Braden replied in a harsh tone.
Taken aback by his demeanor, she removed her hand from his knee and sat back. Not knowing what else to do, she glanced out the window as the dark streets of London flew past. The man was nothing but contradictions. At times, he treated her rather rudely and other times seemed almost protective of her. He could be cold and not talk to her and then speak of his brother’s issues. Yet, he never talked about his past.
She doubted he would tonight, but maybe he could tell her more about Jonathon. It might give her some insight into how his problems started. “What was Jonathon like as a child?”
He turned his head and scowled at her. “Back to your infatuation with the boy?”
“No,” she replied, wondering why he always pushed her away. “I thought if I learned about his past, it might help determine why he started with the opium.”
“He was a fine young boy. The light of my father’s eyes.”
“And you weren’t?” she whispered.
“No.”
“Your mother’s, then?”
“No.” He glanced away. “I thought we were discussing Jonathon, not me.”
“It might be good to hear about your childhood too. I should think it had an impact on Jonathon’s upbringing.” Perhaps that would get him to tell her about his childhood.
“Not likely. When I was home, my parents spent their time away from me as much as possible. Once my father died, I had to find a way to support my mother and brother.”
“How old were you?”
“Ten.”
Tia closed her eyes, trying to imagine how difficult it must have been for a ten-year-old boy to find a position to bring money in to support them. “How did you do that?” she asked in a soft tone.
“Doing unspeakable things.” The carriage rolled to a stop in front of his house. Middleton jumped out of the carriage and held a hand out to assist her. They walked up the steps in silence.
“Good evening, my lord, Miss Featherstone.”
