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“Yes,” she agreed. “Try mine.”
He did and groaned again. She wondered if she’d asked him to try her drink just to hear him.
“I’ve never had anything like this before.”
She enjoyed watching him enjoy his drink. Was it possible? Had he never come to a Starbucks before?
“So this Preston is…was a lord?”
“Aye. Was. I killed him,” he told her proudly. “Why do you go pale?”
“You…you killed him?” she asked horrified.
“Aye. He deserved it. Everyone else was too afraid of him—”
“Look, Sebastian. Maybe this was a bad idea. You should really go talk to the police, and maybe a psychiatrist.”
“It bothers you that I killed Preston?” he asked a bit incredulously.
“Of course it does! You can’t just take the law into your own hands.”
“What law?” he asked. “I don’t know all the laws here. They are different from back home. But he deserved it.”
“Only God gets to give us what we deserve,” she said and sipped her mocha.
Thankfully, he didn’t argue.
Was he for real? She still had doubts. Had he killed someone in England or here recently? She took out her phone. “What did you say Preston’s full name was, with his title?” She also pressedrecord, without him knowing. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t done it sooner. It was as if he laid waste to her rational thoughts.
“Lord Preston Bristol III, Viscount of Sutton,” he supplied, then smiled. “Are you looking him up? I hadn’t done that.”
Of course he hadn’t. Why would he if he was lying and there was no Pres—
“Viscount Sutton, Preston Bristol III. Born August, 1696. Died August, 1724.” Fine, Preston Bristol was real. She scanned the rest of the article, to his death.
“Sutton was flung from the battlements of Croydon’s prison,Croydon Keep, by Baron Surrey, Sebastian Alexander, who later disappeared. Alexander was a fellow member of Sutton’s society of highwaymen, known as The Horsemen. But Sutton’s death was not the result of falling from the wall. He died from a knife wound in his back.”
“That’s correct,” Sebastian told her with no remorse.
Noelle stared at her phone with her mouth open. Was this him? Baron Surrey, Sebastian Alexander? The article said he disappeared.
Anyone could have read this and pretended to be him.
“Is this supposed to make me feel better? You stabbed someone in the back and then threw him off the battlement wall?”
“But he was—”
“We have police and courts and prisons for that. And if you don’t know it, then you better learn our justice system. You can’t go around killing people you believe are bad. That’s called vigilantism and it will put you behind bars.”
“I will keep that in mind if I need to.”
Did his eye color just change a little? As if the shimmer of a golden veil passed over them. It sent a cold thread down her spine.
The chill brought with it a memory of being stalked last year. The guy found out where she lived and tried to contact her. He was arrested soon after that for a violent crime and imprisoned for a lot of years. She never wanted to go through that again.
“So,Lord Surrey…”
He smiled at her with eyes as green as freshly mowed grass. Who was he? What was he? Was something magical at work here? Something she could never explain, even with proof?
