“That certainly does not bode well, then, does it?” he asked in his smooth-as-satin voice.
“I can do nothing with conjecture, Simon. Find me the proof of it. Then we can kill Welton and give chase.”
Behind her, the fire in the grate quickly heated her dressing gown and then the backs of her legs to an uncomfortable degree, but inside she was icy with terror. The thoughts that filled her mind made her ill. How would she ever find Amelia if her sister was in the world at large?
Simon’s brows rose. “Taking the search beyond the shores of England would greatly diminish the chances of a successful outcome.”
Raising the cordial in her hand to her lips, Maria drained the contents to bolster her spirits and set the small glass on the mantel. Her gaze moved across the room, once again finding comfort in the stained wood paneling and dark green drapes. It was an extremely masculine study, an effect that served two purposes. One, it established a somber mood that discouraged meaningless discourse. Two, it gave her a sense of control she needed desperately. Often she felt like a puppet on Welton’s strings, but here she was in command.
She shrugged and resumed her pacing, her black dressing gown swirling around her ankles. “You act as if I have something else to live for.”
“Surely there is some goal you wish to accomplish.” He rose to his feet, towering over her as most everyone did. “Something more pleasant than death.”
“I cannot think of the future beyond finding Amelia.”
“You could. It will not make you weak to wish for better things.”
The glance she shot him was narrowed and cool enough to discourage most. Simon, however, simply laughed. He had once shared her bed, and with it, the inevitable domestic discord that came with the role of resident lover.
Maria sighed, her gaze moving to the portrait of her first husband that hung on the wall from a length of thick ribbon. The swirls of paint created an image of a portly man with ruddy cheeks and bright green eyes.
“I miss Dayton,” she confessed, her restless stride slowing, “and the support he provided.”
The Earl of Dayton had saved her from total ruin. Seeing through Welton’s exterior, the kind widower had rescued her, paying a high price to take a girl young enough to be his granddaughter as his second wife. Under his tutelage she learned everything she needed to know to survive. Weaponry and the consummate use of it were only two of the many lessons learned.
“We will see to it that he is avenged,” Simon murmured. “I promise you that.”
Rolling her shoulders in a vain attempt to alleviate the tension there, Maria moved to the desk and sank wearily into the seat. “What about St. John? Can he be of any use to me?”
“Of course. With what the man knows, he could be of use to anyone. But there must be something to be gained for him. He is not a man known for his charitable tendencies.”
She curled her fingers around the carved ends of the chair. “It would not be sex. A man who looks like he does would have women aplenty.”
“Very true. He is a man known for living to excess.”
Moving to the sideboard, Simon poured his own libation and rested a lean hip against the edge. While he managed the appearance of nonchalance, he never lowered his guard for a moment. She knew this and appreciated it.
“I can only assume it is the death of your husbands and their relation to the agency that has sparked his interest.”
She nodded, expecting as much. The only motivation she could find for St. John’s approach was his desire to use her as Welton did—for a distasteful task where feminine wiles were required. But surely he had women closer to him who could do the job with similar efficiency? “How was he caught? After all these years, I cannot help but wonder what error he made.”
“From what I can discern, he made none. An informant was found who was willing to speak out against him.”
“A bona fide informant?” she asked softly, her mind’s eye remembering the brief moments she’d spent with the criminal. He was supremely confident as only a man with no fears could be. He was also a man one would be foolish to cross. “Or simply one who bent to coercion?”
“Most likely the latter. I shall look into it.”
“Yes, do.” Maria fingered the corner of a piece of parchment on her desk. Her gaze rested on the sparkling amber liquid in Simon’s hand and then moved higher, noting his broad shoulders and powerful arms.
“I wish I were of more help to you.” The sincerity in his voice could not be mistaken.
“Do you know of a woman we could trust to align herself with Welton?”
He paused with his snifter lifted halfway to his mouth, a slow smile transforming his features. “By God, you are a wonder. Dayton taught you well.”