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Chapter One
England, 1814
Mr. Guy Stewartfound criminals to be intolerably stupid. It was the dead of night, and he was chasing after a suspect in the middle of the rookeries, rather than being home in a warm bed. How he wished he could just shoot this man and be done with it.
He wiped the sweat off his brow with the back of his hand. He had been chasing this man for nearly ten blocks and had no idea how this was going to end. Surely, at this high speed, the suspect must be near exhaustion.
The suspect darted into a darkened building, and he quickly followed behind. He heaved a sigh when he saw the man start up the rickety stairs.
“Just let me arrest you,” Guy grumbled up at the man.
The man didn’t reply, not that he had expected him to, but continued to race up the four flights of stairs. Guy followed behind, pleased that the man was going to trap himself on the roof, ending this pointless chase. As he stepped onto the roof, he saw the man running towards the edge of the building.
“No!” he exclaimed. He hadn’t expected the man would take his own life.
But to his surprise, he watched as the man sailed through the air and landed with a thud on the neighboring roof. Botheration, Guy thought. Now he would have to do the same thing, or he would lose the suspect. He sprinted towards the edge of the building and jumped, hoping he had calculated the distance correctly. He landed on top of the other roof and took only a moment to collect his bearings.
Guy ran through the door and started down the stairs when he heard a woman screaming for help. His steps faltered, knowing he couldn’t just pass by and not assist the woman. But if he did stop to help her, the suspect would be long gone, and he would have to answer to Corbyn. Groaning, he turned towards the woman’s screams and threw open the door.
The suspect he’d been chasing was holding the woman in front of him, pointing a pistol at her temple. He was a rather unfortunate-looking man, with a large head on a small frame. “If you come any closer, I will kill her,” the man declared, his eyes betraying his fear.
Guy retrieved his pistol from the waistband of his trousers and stepped into the small room. “If you kill her, then I will kill you,” he said. The woman whimpered in response.
The suspect forcefully backed the woman over to the broken window and looked out. “You have to let me go.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
“I did nothing wrong.”
“You plotted to kill the prince regent.”
The suspect shook his head. “I did no such thing,” he said. “I was drunk and just spouting nonsense.”
“If that is the case, then you have nothing to fear.”
“I’m not going back to prison!” the suspect shouted. “The rats gnaw at your toes when you’re sleeping.”
Guy brought his pistol up. “Then it would have been smart if you’d avoided breaking the law.”
The suspect ducked behind the woman, like the coward that he was. “But I did nothing wrong,” he declared. “You must believe me.”
“I don’t,” Guy replied. “It has been my experience that innocent men do not run and hold women hostage.”
“You left me little choice in the matter.”
Guy clenched his jaw. “Unfortunately, this will not end well for you,” he said. “I will either kill you or arrest you, and I would prefer not to kill anyone today.”
“I will pay you if you let me go.”
“How much are you offering?” he asked, feigning interest.
Looking hopeful, the suspect said, “Five pounds.”
“No,” he replied. “That is not enough to tempt me.”
“Ten pounds?”
Guy pretended to mull it over as he debated his chances of shooting the suspect without causing any harm to the woman. It was not looking good, he realized. The coward was keeping only his head exposed, and even though his head was larger than most, it was still a small, moving target.
