“I’m afraid so, Your Grace. But I have men watching his usual haunts, his town house, all of the train stations, and the main roads in and out of London. There are also several officers watching both Dartmoor House and Northam House as we speak. Considering Gascoyne has considerable assets in America, I suspect he will try to flee the country via one of the ports rather than come after you or anyone you care about. But I thought it prudent to err on the side of caution. I agree with you that the man is unpredictable with a vicious streak.”
Bloody hell.Dominic dragged a hand down his face. A breath-stealing combination of anger and alarm gripped his gut. If Gascoyne tried to enter his home or Edward and Horatia’s, he’d rip the mongrel apart with his bare hands, wounded shoulder or not.
Thank God Artemis was in Berkshire.
Although she might very well be en route to Paddington Station if shehadreceived his telegram in time and had decided to return. He glanced at the clock again. It was almost a quarter to eleven. Morton had informed him earlier that the first train from Pangbourne Station to London departed at ten o’clock, and the journey took precisely one hour and fifteen minutes. In half an hour, Artemis might be stepping off the train at Paddington.
And Gascoyne was out there somewhere. Perhaps he was even at Paddington Station right at this moment, trying to slip onto a train heading to Bristol where the head office of Gibbs’s Shipping, his late wife’s company, was located.
Jesus Christ and all his saints…
Dominic hauled himself to his feet. “Are you sure you have enough men out there keeping a watch on Paddington Station, Detective Lawrence? Because my fiancée might be arriving on a train—”
There was another knock at the door, and Morton admitted a footman bearing a folded piece of paper.
A telegram. From Artemis.
As Dominic eagerly scanned the message, joy warred with acute trepidation. When his gaze snagged on the last few words, his heart clenched.
Yours entirely & unreservedly,
A.
If anything happened to Artemis…
“Morton, get my greatcoat and hail a hackney. I’m going to Paddington. Artemis is arriving in thirty minutes.”
“No need for the hackney, Your Grace,” said Lawrence. “I have a carriage waiting outside. I know the weather is abysmal, but if the traffic isn’t too bad, we should be there in fifteen.”
“Good,” said Dominic. “There’s no time to waste.”