Garvey’s eyes went up and met Morgan’s, which prompted the blonde to turn around with a ready smile.
Morgan took in her stunning looks just as recognition hit him. He knew this woman, though he had seen her only once in person, and again when Simon had commissioned a painting to be done of her when the O.S.S. discovered she was connected with Creed.
Lady Philomena Housley.
He narrowed his eyes, which had the effect of killing her smile. “Can I help you?”
Mr. Garvey moved around Philomena and positioned himself beside her, or rather in front of her, as though he planned to protect her from Morgan. Sadly, the man didn’t know Morgan’s true identity, or he would know that Morgan could kill him in more than one hundred ways with nothing more than the knife in his boot. “Mr. Platt… I mean, Lord Durham, surely you know what reason this woman would have for seeking you out.”
Morgan lifted a brow and thought of at least one reason. Creed had finally sent in a spy and though he knew Mr. Garvey didn’t know much, he didn’t like her snooping around. “Why is she here?”
Garvey blinked. “Why, she’s your—”
“Mr. Garvey.” The temptress touched the secretary’s arm and grinned up at him. “If I could, I would like to speak to Lord Durham alone.”
Once Garvey’s eyes met hers, he was smiling once more and covered her hand with his before lifting it to give a kiss. “Of course, my lady.”
Morgan tightened his fist, the kiss on her hand annoying him more than he thought it should. He thought it was perhaps the fact that Lady Philomena had managed to turn Mr. Garvey into clay beneath her vile fingers. “Shall we continue this meeting in my office?” He started for the door in the back of the room without waiting for her to agree. Still, he listened for the telling sound of her feet moving against the wooden floor before starting toward his desk.
Lady Philomena stepped into the room.
Morgan avoided looking at her as he spoke, instead pretending to rummage around his desk as though he had other pressing matters. He didn’t. His business partner Warren had done well in his absence. “Close the door.”
“No, that would be improper.”
He lifted his head to find her hands resting at her side and a blank expression on her face. He didn’t know what to make of her or what to say. She was a fool for coming. He had nothing to say to her. She was the enemy as far as he was concerned.
What could she possibly wish to speak to him about? Was there a message from Creed? If there was, he would gladly accept it, hoping it would reveal clues as to the madman’s next move. Creed ruled the underworld of London, but his goal was to rule the Crown. How he planned to do so was what everyone was trying to figure out and how Lady Philomena fit in was yet another mystery.
Her debut, which was where Morgan had finally got a good look at her, had been a set up for the ton. Creed had been gathering large amounts of rats in the basement of the hotel and had planned to have them moved out and set upon the homes of some of the most powerful and wealthy lords of the ton. His plan had been for those lords to take up residence in the hotel and listen in on their private conversations while the lords worked to clear their homes of the rodents. It had been a good plan. Lady Philomena’s party had pulled everyone to the hotel, which had gone above and beyond to give them all a time they’d not forget, so when they heard about their homes being full of rats, they’d not think to go anywhere else. They would have stayed at the Housley.
But lucky for the ton, the O.S.S. had gotten to the rats first and set them on the building, ruining Housley’s reputation and her party.
And if he had the chance, he would do it all over again because what stood before him was nothing more than a walking version of her establishment. A pretty facade full of pests.
Something in his eyes must have given away his thoughts, because she took a step back and looked at the door.
“If you wish to go, then do so and don’t return,” he told her.
She looked at him again and the pain that filled her blue eyes struck him right in the gut. She had to be playing some sort of game. She had no heart.
He looked down at his papers once more, the gesture dismissive.
The room fell into silence, and he thought she’d left until he looked up and to find her standing there, a puzzled expression on her face.
“What?” he asked.
“I… don’t understand,” she whispered, her arms crossed over her chest as though to protect herself. “Is this what I am to expect from you? Such blatant cruelty?”
“Expect from me?” He glared. “You can expect nothing from me if you leave me alone.”
She closed her eyes but not before the open grief hit him again.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been cruel to a woman. Surely, it had been some time. Perhaps the assassin he’d met in Spain or the smuggler in Africa. He wasn’t sure, but never had it left him feeling like he did now, like he’d done something wrong.
She murmured something that strangely seemed to end with the word ‘cursed’.
“Lady Philomena,” he began to apologize, but before he could stop her, she fled the room.
Morgan slowly took his chair and let out the breath he’d seemed to have been holding since the moment he’d left his mother’s presence.
He was not having a good day.
“You may be my employer, but if I ever heard you speak to my wife that way, let alone your own, I’d have called you out, sir.”
Morgan opened his eyes to find his secretary glaring at him. He adjusted himself in the chair, feeling properly chastised. He already didn’t’ feel good about what he’d done but having his secretary go in on him made it all the worse. “Your wife? What are you talking about?”
Garvey shook his head. “I don’t understand you. You ask the woman to be your wife and then you treat her like this? I don’t know if I can continue to work for a man like you, Lord Durham, even if you pay well. My wife would never approve of a man who mistreats his fiancée and neither do I. I know that plenty of men don’t enjoy having their wives interfere with their business, but she meant no harm. She only asked questions about you, nothing more.”
Morgan had stopped listening to Garvey the moment he’d identified Lady Philomena as his fiancée. Then he cursed and cursed some more before standing, but by then Garvey was gone, probably never to return again. Morgan ran his hand through his hair and started to pace the floor.
His mother had arranged for him to marry the ward of his enemy. How had such a thing happened? He shouldn’t have let his mother get to him during their short ride from the docks. When she’d offered to tell him his bride’s name, he should have listened. Now, he’d just angered the last person he needed to make more an enemy than she already was.