CHAPTER12
Hart’s decision was plain. In the end, it was not even a choice. He did not know if there could be a future for himself and Lady Emma Morgan. Likely, she would not forgive him when she learned the truth. But he knew that he could not betray her. Somehow, along the way to finding Loge, he had gone hopelessly, disastrously off course and fallen in love with the very woman he intended to use as leverage in getting answers about what had befallen his brother.
He left a sweetly sleeping Emma in his bed and, with great effort, made his way through The Sinner’s Palace’s belly to Jasper’s office where his brothers had gathered. By the time he reached his destination, he was winded and so weak, he all but collapsed into a bleeding chair.
“You look like death, brother,” Wolf observed pointedly.
Jasper sniffed the air. “Smell a bit like it, too.”
Hart had no doubt he did after two days sweating through the misery of a fever and an infection. Emma, angel that she was, had been too relieved by his recovery and too distracted by playing nursemaid to tell him he was in need of a bath.
“Eh, I’ve seen you look worse,” Rafe offered with a grin and a shrug.
This, too, was also likely true. On more than one occasion, Hart had been disastrously cropsick after celebrating with too many drops of jackey and had spent the next morning emptying his accounts into the old jockum gage. Rafe has always taken great enjoyment in waking Hart early in such circumstances.
Brothers.
He thought of Loge, who had often delighted in playing tricks on them all, and his gut clenched.
“Why are the three of you together?” he asked, for although it was fortuitous to discover them assembled, managing to find all his brothers in the same room was rare these days.
“We had a visitor with an interesting story to share,” Jasper said. “A woman by the name of Mrs. Ralph Staines. Says her husband is the one who killed Abe Bradley and then brought his body to The Sinner’s Palace so his crime wouldn’t be discovered.”
“It seems Abe was bedding Mrs. Staines,” Rafe added, “and Mr. Staines wasn’t particularly appreciative.”
Understandable. Hart wasn’t the sort who shared his woman. Emma was his, damn it.
But Christ. Murder?
“He came upon them in the act, according to Mrs. Staines,” Wolf added. “Went touched in the head. Began braining poor Abe Bradley with a poker from the fire. Then stabbed him with a blade marked with an S. When he realized what he’d done, he brought him to The Sinner’s Palace and laid him out, hoping to lay the blame at our door.”
“And she willingly came to you and told you all this?”
“Mrs. Staines was in love with Abe Bradley,” Rafe explained. “She’s afraid to go to Old Man Bradley with the truth, thinking he’ll blame her for what happened, and now her husband has run off.”
That made sense. The Bradleys were a rough, cruel lot. “What will be done for Mrs. Staines?”
“I’ve offered her a position here,” Jasper said. “Ralph Staines worked for Bradley, but now that he’s gone, she has no notion of how she’ll keep food in the mouths of her babes.”
Being a married man had certainly made Jasper kinder and softer. Hart could not deny the change was for the better.
“Wise decision,” he agreed, thinking it unfortunate that so much anguish had been caused by the rash actions of one man. “I suppose I can thank Abe Bradley’s wandering eye for the blade I took in the side.”
“At least you’re not dead like Abe,” Wolf pointed out.
He winced, for the last few days had left him perilously close to that same state. He was newly grateful for his recovery. “True.”
“And what the hell are you doing out of bed?” Jasper demanded next, his voice stern. “You ought to be resting after what you’ve been through these last two damned days.”
“I need to speak with you.”
“It can wait until you are healed,” Rafe said, his grin fading. “We nearly lost you.”
And they could not afford to lose another brother.
The words hung in the air, unspoken and yet present in all their hearts. Hart could tell by the expressions on his brothers’ countenances.
“It’s about Loge,” he said.
Predictably, Jasper’s shoulders stiffened. “What about him?”
Of them all, Jasper was the most determined to accept that Loge was forever lost to them.
“I went to Asher Tierney to find information about what happened to him,” Hart said haltingly, his weariness and the knowledge that Jasper would not be pleased at the revelations to come rendering his confession all the more difficult.
“Tierney,” Jasper spat the name like an oath. “Why would you seek out that cunny-thumbed arsehole? You’re damned lucky he didn’t stick a blade in your back for the trouble.”
It was no secret that Jasper and Tierney did not get along. Jasper did not trust Tierney as far as he could throw him, and Hart did not blame him one whit for his distrust. Tierney was a cunning bastard, and everyone knew he was dangerous.
“I heard rumors at The Beggar’s Purse that Tierney was with Loge on the day he disappeared,” he said. “I wanted answers.”