Duke nodded and unfurled the note written on surprisingly fine paper, able to make out the charcoal scrawl in the next flash of lightning. Raindrops smeared the writing, so he folded it and stuffed it back into his pocket, but it didn’t matter—he’d read and re-read it a hundred times since it arrived at the Musgraves.
His heart gave a painful pang.At the Musgraves.Patrick Doyle knew where he was staying which meant this needed to be over sooner rather than later.
It meant he needed to leave, quickly. He couldn’t put Violet or her family in danger.
With any luck, it would be over tonight.
Proof of life. Brooks Wharf. Come alone and unarmed.
He wasn’t fool enough to think they’d really bring his father, but this was his one chance to get his hands on someone, anyone, involved in his kidnapping. This had gone on long enough. Duke was not going to waste this opportunity.
Roman swung a glance around.
“You realize this might be a trap?”
Duke pressed his back to the building and peered around the corner. The wharf offered nothing more than the occasional bark of a dog in the distance punctuated by the creaking wood of boat hulls in between the retreating roll of thunder.
“Oh this is most certainly a trap.”
“Then they’ll have you and your father then what choice will you have but to defend Doyle?”
“That’s why I have you, my dear friend. You are my back up.”
“You know I do not recall volunteering to be back up.”
“Go back home to your wife then. I’m certain she is warm and comfortable in her bed.”
Roman issued a groan. “I’d far rather be there than here freezing my bollocks off.” He met Duke’s gaze. “But I’ll be damned if I let you face these blackguards alone.”
“Glad to hear it.” Duke motioned to the front of the building. “I’m going to go in, wait for these men to make their move and as soon as you hear I’m in trouble, you make your move.” He fished the gun out of his pocket along with the shot and powder. “Try not to get it wet.”
His friend eyed him for a few moments. Duke didn’t need the full light of day to see the withering look Roman gave him.
“This hardly sounds like a plan.”
“You have a better one?”
“Hire a whole army?”
“We do not have time for that,” Duke snapped. “And they have my father, Roman.”
“I know, I know.” Roman huffed out a breath and began to shuck off his coat.
“What are you doing? I thought you were cold.”
“Clem gave me this coat and besides, it restricts my movements.” He paused. “Should we have a code word?”
“Ferns,” Duke said without thinking.
Roman stared at him as though he had grown ten feet taller then shrugged. “Ferns it is.”
“We are doing this then.” Duke glanced over Roman.
Of all his friends, Roman was the strongest and biggest. Neither of them were classic gentleman. Roman might have a title but he didn’t enjoy the role of lord much and preferred horse riding and boxing to sitting around in gentleman’s clubs. Duke didn’t mind the clubs, however, he was no wastrel. If he was not looking for the next opportunity to test his mind, he was racing on Rotten Row. He would not forget who these men were, though, and what they were willing to do. If this went wrong, they could both wind up dead.
“Well then.” Roman gave him an awkward pat on the back. “Best of luck. Don’t die.”
“Make sure the gun is loaded.”