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Chapter 2
I’ve been stuck in this prison cell—oh, pardon me, in this guest chamber, since I am to be a guest here—for three whole days. What a pile of horse dung!
I am not allowed to step out of this room. If I try, the guards immediately send me back and lock the door. Nobody, except for Verity, is allowed inside this room. And there’s still nothing for me to do but eat and write in this dratted journal.
If this lasts any longer, I am bound to lose my mind. But it won’t last. Because I finally have a plan.
Eloise Gunning
Hades stepped into the library and froze. It was as if life stood still in this place. It still had the same musty scent of books; it still looked dark but somehow cozy. It was cold, for the hearth had not been lit in this place for days, but otherwise, nothing had changed. And yet it had.
He had not been here since Ava died. He couldn’t.
The library had been one of Ava’s favorite places. Of course, she hadn’t had many places to choose from, but she studied her letters here, sketched here, and when she was little, she used to hide and play here. Being here hurt his heart.
Some people would say that he didn’t possess a heart at all. And perhaps they were right. At least he didn’t possess it anymore. If he did have a heart, it got torn out of his chest and buried right next to his Ava. He closed his eyes and took a step deeper into the room.
He couldn’t continue avoiding this place. More importantly, he couldn’t continue bringing everyone down with his sullen mood. And as much as he wanted to be accessible to people, he wanted peace and quiet at times, too.
He could not concentrate on work, but there was something he would easily concentrate on in this place: finding Ava’s killer.
He settled at the table across from the hearth and opened the ledger he’d taken from his hell.
He had made a lot of rash mistakes after her passing. He had kidnapped Lord St. John in the dead of night and kept him imprisoned. He had almost killed him too, if not for the deceitful thief-taker. Hades was thinking through the veil of grief. Once the heat, fury, and rage stemming from her death had passed and the grief had settled, his head cleared enough to reevaluate his suspicions about her demise.
He might not have had access to the best drawing rooms of London, but he was the owner of the most notorious gaming hell. Hades did not need the thief-taker’s help. He would find the culprit all on his own.
No, Hades was not going to release Miss Eloise Gunning. He was not the kind to forget and forgive. The thief-taker would pay for his attempt at tricking Hades. And the more people who looked for Ava’s murderer, the more chance there was to find him and quickly.
Hades’ gaming hell was frequented by aristocrats of all walks of life. Almost every male member of London’s high society had visited the place at one time or another. Lord St. John was one of his frequent visitors.
Hades flipped the ledger, reading the names of his patrons. And so was Mr. St. John—the viscount’s cousin.
How could he have forgotten about the depraved rakehell? The man had spent many nights gambling away money that was not even his own. The man openly mocked his wife with his amorous pursuits.
Hades circled the name in the journal. The note he’d found on Ava certainly pointed to one of St. Johns, and if it wasn’t the lord, it must be his cousin.
However, Hades would not be as impetuous and hot-headed as he had been before. If he were to accuse another peer of murder, he had to have substantial evidence. He needed to be sure that Mr. Greyson St. John was indeed the man who’d written the note to Ava, the note that led to her demise.
He couldn’t afford to make missteps anymore.
Hades knew the signature could have been forged. His Ava was still young. Easily fooled.
He closed his eyes and swallowed.
If he’d just paid her more attention, allowed more socialization, perhaps she would still be alive. But with whom should he have let her socialize?
Hades operated hells and bawdy houses. Everyone in his close circle was either a criminal or a harlot. He’d tried to keep Ava away from his lifestyle. He’d wanted the best kind of life for her, but he couldn’t exactly have her socialize with the upper crust, either. As a result, she’d spent most of her time in the periphery of life.
Until one day, she’d gone in search of excitement all on her own. And it had cost her her life.
“Master! Master!” Garric, one of the men assigned to look after the thief-taker’s daughter, ran into the library, winded and his eyes wide.
Hades raised his eyes to him, and the man halted in his tracks. Didn’t he hide out in the library to seek some peace and quiet? The bandit should have known that. That is why the rather rude interruption troubled Hades. The last time Garric had dared to interrupt him was when it was discovered that Ava had sneaked out of the bloody house with over two dozen bandits. How did she do that, and why?
“Master!” Garric choked out again, his breathing erratic. “The woman… your guest, she—”
Hades stood so suddenly the chair he was sitting on fell to the floor with a loud thud. “Don’t tell me you lost her too!” he growled.
