Page 18 of The Duchess He Couldn’t Resist

He poured himself some whiskey, admitting that he was mentally preparing himself for his turn to report. He truly needed to put his thoughts in order. After all, he had both a major breakthrough and a major announcement to make.

“Middle,” Thumb said, turning toward the giant in the room.

If Brandon made people uneasy because of his sheer size, Victor was made from the very stuff nightmares spawned from. Middle looked around the room, his left eye twitching and making his scar even more prominent.

“It is done,” was all he said.

He could very well have been discussing the making of tea, and people still would have screamed and run from him. Brandon was very happy that the man stood on their side.

“I am glad to hear that,” Thumb nodded. “Did you run into any trouble?”

“Yes,” Middle said.

Nobody expected him to elaborate because he had already reached the maximum number of words most people ever heard him say in one sitting. Brandon looked around at the rest of the members, and they all silently shared the sentiment that whatever the trouble had been, it certainly was no longer breathing.

“No loose ends?” Thumb asked methodically, his paranoia ever present.

Middle merely looked at him without changing his expression, as though the very suggestion that he might leave loose ends was insulting.

“Very well,” Thumb said. “You will soon be given a new assignment. Index.”

It was finally Brandon’s turn.

He downed the rest of his whiskey before taking his place in the comfortable armchair.

“I have had an encounter with Donny, the gang’s second-in-command.”

Thumb looked up at Brandon, silently requesting more details.

“It was by sheer luck,” Brandon clarified. “I was walking around the area where rumors claimed Johnny had established his latest lair when I saw some of his goons harassing a woman. I intervened, and only then did I realize who the man was.”

“Did they recognize you?” Thumb asked, worried that the plan had been compromised.

“I left before anyone realized who I was.”

“Did you manage to extract more information?”

Brandon let the whiskey burn down his throat as he swallowed a few more sips.

“No, but I managed to secure a credible informant.”

“You found someone willing to rat out Johnny?” Little sounded impressed.

“It is a little more complicated than that,” Brandon said, realizing that was quite the understatement.

“Care to elaborate?” Owen challenged.

“The lady I saved had⁠—”

“Excuse me,” Thumb interrupted with a frown. “Did you say lady? You claimed you saved a woman in that area of London in the middle of the night. You do not mean an actual lady of the ton?”

“Trust me, I did not believe it at first either, and I hardly paid her any attention at the time. My main concern was not exposing my identity,” Brandon replied as he drank more whiskey. “But it just so happened that I ran into the lady again the following day.”

“And where did this unbelievably convenient encounter occur?” Thumb asked, deeply frowning.

He had very little faith in coincidences and worried constantly about hidden enemies. He was cautious to the point of seeming mistrustful, but many times his meticulous planning and painstaking precautions had kept them all safe.

“In Mayfair,” Brandon answered. “I assume Lady Marigold Covington was out running errands.”