wanted and fully expected to get it. The question was, what
was
his game?
“A fat ransom, no doubt,” she declared, pulling her wandering attention back under control, intent on staying a step ahead of him in this … this bizarre interview that was taking on the tenor of a business negotiation.
“Not at all.” He had the gall to chuckle. Aloud. “Mrs. Brown has no need or desire for your money. What she wants is your written agreement not to press legal charges against her or her establishment.” He shrugged. “That is her only condition for your release.”
Was it possible that the creature who ran this placereally had sent him to negotiate her release? She couldn’t imagine white slavers employing lawyers to placate their victims or cover their mistakes, but the tide of power did seem to be turning. The questions were: how far and why.
S IX
“ GIVE ME YOUR coat,” Beatrice ordered.
“What?” The lawyer was genuinely taken aback.
Much better, she thought, feeling as if she were finding her legs in this unthinkable bit of commerce. If twelve years in business and trade had taught her anything, it was that you had to keep your opponent off guard.
“I refuse to discuss your client’s wishes until I have your coat.”
Clearly reluctant but at a loss to proceed otherwise, he removed his coat and offered it to her. She extended the bamboo rod like a scepter, motioning for him to drape it over the end. With a wary eye on him, she slid both of her arms, still holding the whip and cane, through the sleeves.
A disconcerting wave of body heat enveloped her as the garment settled against her skin. But now that he had literally given her the coat off his back, she was certain that she could get more.
“The moment I am free,” she declared, “I intend tosee your client and everyone else connected to this outrage prosecuted to the fullest.”
“I know this has been a trial for you, Mrs. Von Furstenberg.” His voice acquired a deep, rolling quality. “But punishing my client makes no sense. She and her employees had nothing to do with your abduction.”
“They didn’t?” She tossed the whip and cane onto the ottoman and folded her arms. The relief that flickered through his expression surprised her. For a lawyer, he was surprisingly easy to read. And to lead.
“How can you know with any certainty that they had nothing to do with it…
unless you know who did
?”
He blinked, his chin tucked, and he stiffened. Common signs of surprise. Or guilt. “My client has no idea who was involved.”
“You say you know nothing about it, and yet you’re sure it was a mistake. How can that be, Mr.—what did you say your name was?”
“My identity isn’t important. I’m here only as an intermediary,” he protested. She could see a sheen of sweat developing on his features. He knew more than he was saying. “If anyone here knows what happened, it is
you.
What do you remember about how you came to be here?”
Clever. Turning it back on her. As if he didn’t know every little detail. She wrapped his coat tighter and folded her arms over it.
“I was on my way home from a meeting when my carriage was stopped by two men—Irish from their thick accents and even thicker heads.” She turned her head away from his unsettling gaze and felt her hair scraping the coat collar. It was dangling in disarray around her shoulders and she squashed the impulse to tuck it upand make herself more presentable. “They demanded my valuables, and when I refused to cooperate, they hauled me bodily from my carriage. Then as the police approached, they dragged me off with them, bound and gagged me, and brought me to this abominable place.”
“There you are, then. A simple robbery gone wrong.” He inhaled deeply, inflating his chest and running his hands down his vest. Her eyes followed in spite of herself. Large hands … muscular, neatly tapered. “We may never know what possessed those idiots to abduct you. But it’s
was
his game?
“A fat ransom, no doubt,” she declared, pulling her wandering attention back under control, intent on staying a step ahead of him in this … this bizarre interview that was taking on the tenor of a business negotiation.
“Not at all.” He had the gall to chuckle. Aloud. “Mrs. Brown has no need or desire for your money. What she wants is your written agreement not to press legal charges against her or her establishment.” He shrugged. “That is her only condition for your release.”
Was it possible that the creature who ran this placereally had sent him to negotiate her release? She couldn’t imagine white slavers employing lawyers to placate their victims or cover their mistakes, but the tide of power did seem to be turning. The questions were: how far and why.
S IX
“ GIVE ME YOUR coat,” Beatrice ordered.
“What?” The lawyer was genuinely taken aback.
Much better, she thought, feeling as if she were finding her legs in this unthinkable bit of commerce. If twelve years in business and trade had taught her anything, it was that you had to keep your opponent off guard.
“I refuse to discuss your client’s wishes until I have your coat.”
Clearly reluctant but at a loss to proceed otherwise, he removed his coat and offered it to her. She extended the bamboo rod like a scepter, motioning for him to drape it over the end. With a wary eye on him, she slid both of her arms, still holding the whip and cane, through the sleeves.
A disconcerting wave of body heat enveloped her as the garment settled against her skin. But now that he had literally given her the coat off his back, she was certain that she could get more.
“The moment I am free,” she declared, “I intend tosee your client and everyone else connected to this outrage prosecuted to the fullest.”
“I know this has been a trial for you, Mrs. Von Furstenberg.” His voice acquired a deep, rolling quality. “But punishing my client makes no sense. She and her employees had nothing to do with your abduction.”
“They didn’t?” She tossed the whip and cane onto the ottoman and folded her arms. The relief that flickered through his expression surprised her. For a lawyer, he was surprisingly easy to read. And to lead.
“How can you know with any certainty that they had nothing to do with it…
unless you know who did
?”
He blinked, his chin tucked, and he stiffened. Common signs of surprise. Or guilt. “My client has no idea who was involved.”
“You say you know nothing about it, and yet you’re sure it was a mistake. How can that be, Mr.—what did you say your name was?”
“My identity isn’t important. I’m here only as an intermediary,” he protested. She could see a sheen of sweat developing on his features. He knew more than he was saying. “If anyone here knows what happened, it is
you.
What do you remember about how you came to be here?”
Clever. Turning it back on her. As if he didn’t know every little detail. She wrapped his coat tighter and folded her arms over it.
“I was on my way home from a meeting when my carriage was stopped by two men—Irish from their thick accents and even thicker heads.” She turned her head away from his unsettling gaze and felt her hair scraping the coat collar. It was dangling in disarray around her shoulders and she squashed the impulse to tuck it upand make herself more presentable. “They demanded my valuables, and when I refused to cooperate, they hauled me bodily from my carriage. Then as the police approached, they dragged me off with them, bound and gagged me, and brought me to this abominable place.”
“There you are, then. A simple robbery gone wrong.” He inhaled deeply, inflating his chest and running his hands down his vest. Her eyes followed in spite of herself. Large hands … muscular, neatly tapered. “We may never know what possessed those idiots to abduct you. But it’s
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