Page 168 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

“Patience.” He inclined his head toward a nearby sofa. “Sit.”

She didn’t move.

His smile disappeared. “The sofa, Your Grace.”

The pistol pressed a fraction harder against her mother’s head. Lady Wynten whimpered. Jane swallowed the cry rising in herthroat. Slowly, she crossed the room and lowered herself onto the edge of the sofa.

Every instinct screamed at her to fight. To run. To do something. Instead she forced herself to remain still. Hector had taught her many things. The first had been to survive long enough to find the right moment. This was not it.

Only once she was seated did she truly look at Zachary. He stood several feet away, rigid beside the fireplace. The color had drained from his face. His jaw was clenched so tightly that the muscles twitched. He was frightened.

Jane understood at once. Whatever bargain Zachary believed he had struck with Phineas Strachan, he had never imagined this. He had invited a wolf into his home, thinking he could keep it on a leash. Now he stood trapped inside the cage with it.

Jane dragged her attention back to Strachan. “What do you want from us?”

Strachan regarded her with quiet amusement. “You ask direct questions.”

“I have no patience for games.”

“Oh, I rather think you do.” His eyes glittered. “You’ve been playing one for weeks.”

Jane frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“No?” He tilted his head slightly. “You and your husband have become extraordinarily meddlesome people.”

Ice settled in Jane’s stomach. “Our search had nothing to do with you.”

He laughed softly. “An admirable lie.” His fingers tightened almost imperceptibly against her mother’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, it is still a lie.”

Jane held his gaze. “You kidnapped my brother.”

“I did.”

“You imprisoned innocent men. You deserve to hang.”

The smile returned. “Perhaps.” He sounded almost entertained. “But because of your dear husband, I now find myself forced to abandon London considerably sooner than I had planned.”

Jane’s pulse quickened. “Hector will find us.”

Strachan chuckled. “Will he?”

“He always does.”

For the first time, something dangerous flashed behind the crime lord’s composed exterior. “I admire your confidence.”

Jane clung to it anyway. “When he realizes I’ve disappeared, he’ll come.”

“Oh, undoubtedly.” Strachan nodded almost thoughtfully. “He is a remarkably determined man. But by the time the Duke of Sunderford discovers what has happened here, I shall be far beyond his reach.”

The certainty in his voice chilled Jane far more than the pistol ever could. Zachary cleared his throat. The sound was small. Far too small for the suffocating silence that filled the room.

He glanced from Jane to her mother, then to the pistol in Strachan’s hand. A bead of perspiration rolled slowly down his temple.

“I... perhaps...” His voice cracked. He swallowed and tried again. “Perhaps I should leave the three of you to discuss your... business... privately.”

Jane nearly laughed. Not because anything about the situation was amusing, but because only now—standing in the same room as genuine evil—had Zachary finally realized the difference between cruelty and monstrosity.

Strachan turned his head with maddening slowness. The pistol followed. Instead of pointing it at Lady Wynten, it came to rest squarely on Zachary. The older man’s face went white.