Johanna dug her fingers into her leather valise. Where was the scoundrel who’d demanded she leave London and travel to this heaven-forsaken place? The ruthless cur who’d abducted her young niece had been precise and brutally direct in his instructions. He’d already demonstrated the depths to which he’d sink to obtain what he wanted. She held little doubt the man had killed her brother-in-law. She could only pray he’d honor his word and release the child once he had his damnable prize.
Johanna’s attention flickered to the man in black who’d now staggered to the bar. He’d propped himself against the edge, leaning lazily on an elbow. One hand held a tumbler of amber liquid. Curiously, he seemed in no hurry to down the bitter swill.
She felt his gaze on her again. Nonsense. The sot had no cause to observe her, and she certainly would not draw a man’s eye while several lip-rouged doxies sashayed about, looking to ply their wares. Still, she sensed his interest in her. Discreet glances cast beneath hooded lids. Was that recognition flaring in his eyes?
Blast her overly vivid writer’s imagination. Johanna jerked her attention away and set her sights on the well-dressed man who strode past. Classically handsome, save for the slight crook in an otherwise perfectly carved nose, he wore a meticulously tailored suit that stood out of place in this workmen’s establishment. His indigo waistcoat gave his eyes a stormy cast, while immaculately trimmed dark hair added to his air of sophistication. With his refined clothing and demeanor, he might well have been a barrister or member of Parliament.
He met her gaze and cocked his chin, as if acknowledging her. His expression bland as a gentleman choosing the color of a cravat, he offered a subtle flick of his wrist. Between his fingers, a linen pocket square bearing her brother-in-law’s family crest confirmed his identity.
Her heart seemed to skip a beat, even as her stomach twisted into a knot. So, this was the bastard who’d come to arrange a trade—the contents of her satchel for a child’s life.
With a slight movement of his hand, he beckoned her again. Invisible talons clawed her insides. She’d spent so many hours writing of heartless cads, but now she faced one in the flesh. Shocking how very much this one looked the part of a gentleman. If she’d been writing a novel, he might well have been the hero. Only the hardened glint in his eyes gave any clue to his true nature.
She came to her feet. If only her limbs would cooperate. They’d picked a fine time to grow heavy, as if lead weights had been tethered to her ankles. One step at a time, she forced her legs to move.
The gentleman kept his attention fixed on her. The satchel weighed heavy in her hand. Cotton seemed to fill her throat. As she grew close enough to discern the man’s features, she made out the impatient stretch of his full mouth and the creases edging his eyes.
“Mr. Ross, I presume.” She infused as much steel into her voice as she could muster. An instinctive alarm sounded deep within, but she could not afford to display the merest trace of fear. The ice in this man’s expression revealed no shred of compassion. To the contrary, a stiletto-sharp brutality hardened his features into an impenetrable mask.
He gave a curt nod as confirmation and led her to a small table in a shadowed corner of the pub.
“Please join me, Miss Templeton.” His voice bore no trace of a brogue. Rather, it carried the inflections Johanna had come to know during her time in London.
Without venturing a reply, she settled herself into a chair. Whoever this man truly was, he eyed her with a predator’s gleam, as if eager for any sign of weakness. Her hand tensed around the handle of her valise.
“You’ve come alone.” His words were a statement, not a question.
“Yes.”
“Good.” Steepling his fingers, he watched her over clean, even nails that confirmed Johanna’s suspicion—this was not a man who labored with his hands. “If we are to achieve our mutual goals, it is imperative that you avoid any attempt to deceive me.”
“I would not be so foolish.”
He inclined his head, a subtle gesture. “You’ve brought the item?”
Johanna met his piercing gaze. Was it possible he could actually hear her heart thudding against her breastbone? She held the eye contact. Anything less would betray vulnerability she could ill afford.
“Of course.”
“Very good.” He studied her again, seeming to search for some hint of trickery. He drummed the fingers of his right hand against the tabletop in a maddeningly even rhythm. Tap. Tap. Tap.
She pulled in a breath, slow and easy, and released it. “You offered my niece’s safe return. I am prepared to make the exchange. But first, I must see that she is unharmed.”
Something that resembled a smile quirked one corner of his mouth. “You are in no position to be setting terms. Your willingness to comply with my instructions will determine my actions from this point forward. Rest assured, I am willing to do whatever it takes to procure the object the girl’s father stole from my employer. No harm will come to the child…for now.”
“And her father?”
His head moved slowly from side to side. “He is no longer a concern.”
Her stomach lurched. Bile rose to her throat. She choked it back. “You did this?”