Latymer by Tracey Devlyn

to happen.”
    Latymer pinched the bridge of his nose. “I never meant for Giles, Lydia, or even Nexus to get mixed up in this.”
    Mac had a few more choice words regarding Latymer’s planning ability, but he kept them to himself.
    “It became evident a few years ago that marrying anyone but Lydia was impossible.”
    “Why?”
    Latymer pierced him with a fierce look. “Because Lydia was the sum of my heart, and I couldn’t do that to her. To us.”
    Mac kept his shock hidden beneath his mask of indifference. “Go on.”
    “We made plans to move to America where a relationship such as ours could be easily disguised and made acceptable. But first I needed to ensure that not only our immediate future but Giles’s future was set.”
    “So greed sent you running to the French.”
    “Security sent me running to the French.”
    “Don’t fool yourself, Latymer. Many would send up a lifetime of prayers to have the wealth you have—or had. You simply wanted to establish a kingdom for yourself in your new country, and you needed money to do that.”
    Jaw clenched, Latymer looked away.
    “What about your part in trying to destroy Lord Somerton and Nexus?”
    “I refused the French’s request, so they took what was mine.”
    “Meaning, Lydia and Giles.”
    Swallowing hard, he nodded, still not looking at Mac. “For them, I would do anything.” His gaze returned to Mac’s. “Anything.”
    “And the request you refused?”
    “To kill Somerton,” he supplied.
    Mac released a long, slow breath. He did not want to feel empathy for this man, but he did. How many people chose the most expedient path to achieving their goals, never having to face the morality of their choice? And how many others chose the wrong path and lost everything they hold dear? The answers churned in Mac’s gut. 
    “For them,” Mac said, repeating Latymer’s words, “I’m sorry—”
    “Where are we going?” Latymer cut in, obviously uncomfortable with the direction of their conversation.
    “To the Hunt Agency.”
    “No, we go to the docks and search from there.”
    “You have no say in the matter.” Mac withdrew a bag from his knapsack and tossed it to Latymer. “Find something in there to eat. You need to rebuild your strength.”
    “Thank you—”
    Mac shook his head. “Don’t. My motives where you’re concerned don’t include kindness. I simply have no wish to carry you.”
    Latymer removed several strips of salted meat, a few pieces of dried fruit, and a lemon biscuit from the bag before tossing it back. “All this hate because I killed your brother?”
    Incredulous, Mac demanded, “Can you think of a better reason for me to despise you?”
    “Many more.” He put a piece of the biscuit into his mouth. “As I recall, he attacked me, not the other way around.”
    “Doesn’t matter. You killed him when all he wanted to do was ask you some questions.”
    “You have no idea what happened that night, do you?” Latymer responded disdainfully.
    “I know enough. He wasn’t alone.”
    “When he knocked on my door, he was taking a chance. He knew who I was and the deeds I was capable of performing. Sounds like the actions of a fool to me.”
    “No, he didn’t know who you were. He was sent to track down William Townsend. We had not made the connection that Townsend and Latymer were one and the same.”
    “I don’t understand why you were looking for Townsend.”
    “We suspected he was somehow involved in the abuse that was going on at Abbingale Home.”
    He was quiet a moment. “By ‘we,’ do you mean this agency you work for?”
    “Yes.”
    “So, you thought Townsend—I—was a potential criminal.”
    “Yes.”
    “Which is why your brother brought a pistol to my chamber at the inn that night and then drew the weapon when he recognized me. Luckily, I had my pistol already drawn when I opened the door. I acted in self-defense, which means your hatred is unwarranted.”
    “‘Unwarranted’?” Mac fired back.