Free The Emperor's Conspiracy by Michelle Diener Page B

it began to rattle its way back home.
    “I’m not one of your employees .” She spoke quietly. “This has weighed on my conscience too long, and I’m not putting it aside for some chisel you have going.” She watched him, but he said nothing, showed nothing on his face. She sighed. “I’m going ahead, Luke. And nothing is going to stop me.”

13

    “T wo of your men are dead?” Dervish dropped the papers in his hands, letting them flutter across his immaculate desk, and leaned back in his chair, his full attention on Edward’s face.
    “So I’m told. And they cannot be found, so I assume I’ve been told the truth.”
    Dervish tapped a finger to his mouth, absolutely silent, and eventually Edward decided to sit in the chair he had originally declined.
    “Do you know who killed them?”
    Edward hesitated. Thought of Charlotte, standing by the window, defiant in her refusal to point a finger. “I have an idea.”
    Dervish raised a brow, waiting.
    Edward returned his stare. Dervish was someone he trusted, but he wasn’t ready to trust him with anything that could harm Charlotte.
    He realized, suddenly, that he was going to lie. Keep all mention of Charlotte’s name out of this and let Dervish think his men were killed while conducting genuine government business.
    It jolted him.
    “A local crime boss. He didn’t like my men on his patch.”
    Dervish frowned. “The rookery lords don’t usually get mixed up with our lot. I always like to think they’re loyal Englishmen, in their way.”
    Edward lifted his hands. “The smugglers on the coast should be loyal Englishmen, too, but clearly they are not.”
    “This is serious, Durnham.” Dervish stood abruptly. “Very serious.”
    “Two men have died. I’m taking it very seriously, I assure you.” Edward stood as well, and gripped the back of his chair.
    “What area is this crime lord’s patch?”
    Edward considered lying again, but he saw no reason to shield Charlotte’s Luke. “Tothill Road. Right next to the finest homes in all of London.”
    “Say again?” The way Dervish went still, the sudden fear in his voice, set a bell ringing in Edward’s skull.
    “The top dog in the Tothill Road rookery sees Mayfair as his personal patch. He took exception to my men’s questions.”
    “I see.” Dervish sat down abruptly, and his hands shook as he gathered his papers together.
    Edward forced himself not to frown. “What is it?”
    “Nothing. It’s just terrible news to hear that two men aredead.” Dervish was sweating. Edward could see the glisten of moisture on his upper lip and on his forehead.
    What would make him so afraid? The thought of men from his department asking questions around and about Mayfair and the West End? Usually, Dervish wouldn’t care whose nose was out of joint in an investigation. Unless …
    Bribery? Blackmail? Edward couldn’t think of another reason for this reaction. If Dervish knew who was involved in the mess he’d dragged Edward into to sort out, wanted Edward to keep away from them … Edward tightened his hold on the chair, and saw his knuckles were white.
    Dervish lifted his eyes from his desk. “You never told me you were taking the hunt to the homes of the ton.” His voice was back under control, but the damage had been done.
    “You were the one who inspired the idea.” Edward tipped the chair forward, then back, watching Dervish carefully.
    “I did?” Dervish tried to smile.
    “Yes, your mention of attending balls the other night, because the men involved in this are right at the top of the social ladder. Of course, you were right. Now we have to decide whether my men were killed because they were asking questions someone didn’t like, or because they were infringing on the territory of a rabid dog.”
    “They take respect very seriously in the rookeries. If your men showed disrespect or were too dismissive—that may have been enough.”
    Edward shrugged. “Perhaps. But as you say, some of the men