Page 119 of Notorious

Gabriel grudgingly loosened his grip.

“I don’t kn-know,” the man wheezed.

“That was not what I wanted to hear,” Gabriel said, flexing his fingers.

“Wait—wait! Give me a moment. I’ll tell you what I know.” He repeatedly cleared his throat. “May I have a drink, please?”

Gabriel’s hands began to tighten, but Byer said, “Come on, Gabe. Let’s all have a drink.”

Gabriel dragged the servant to the only armchair in the room and shoved the man into it, glaring down at him while Byer went to fetch the drinks.

Gabriel had met Byer’s Runner—Tompkins—outside Visel’s apartments. He could see by the man’s surprised expression that Byer had not sent word to him yet about Samir’s abduction. When Gabriel told him, the short, slight man let out an unspeakably vulgar curse.

“Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but I’m a right fool for not suggesting we watch the boy’s house.”

“Well, so was I,” Gabriel had admitted. “Is there anyone inside?” He gestured to the lodgings with his chin.

“Nobody came or went from Visel’s apartments last night except his valet, who left at around seven, came back at ten, and then left again early this morning.”

“Is there a way to get inside?”

The Runner had grinned.

Byer had joined them not much later and waited with Gabriel while Tompkins went off to see what he could find from his sources.

They’d grabbed the valet the second he’d entered Visel’s lodgings. And then Gabriel had begun to question him.

Gabriel turned to where Byer was pouring out what appeared to be brandy.

“Care for a glass?” the viscount asked, cocking a brow.

“No.” Gabriel didn’t care for hard spirits even at the best of times. Right now was not the best of times.

Byer brought the valet a glass and then propped his hip on the desk and took a sip.

The man gulped half the glass, dragged the back of his hand across his lips, and then threw back the other half.

“That’s enough,” Gabriel growled, taking the glass from his hand before the valet could convince Byer to give him more. That’s all he needed, for the man to become even more insensible.

Byer grinned down at their captive. “I won’t be able to hold Mr. Marlington back much longer, old chap. Why don’t you tell us everything before my savage friend here tears it out of you piece by piece? Let’s start with your name,” the viscount suggested.

“Symond, sir.”

“Talk,” Gabriel ordered.

“I haven’t seen Lord Visel since last night—before he went to the masquerade party and he—”

Gabriel lunged at Symond, who pressed himself back into his chair.

“What? Good God—what did I say?” he squeaked as Gabriel grabbed the lapels of his coat and loomed over him.

“Visel was at the Duchess of Richland’s masquerade party?”

Symond nodded vigorously. “He was going to the party but he said he would come back afterward—only briefly—and that I should have everything packed.” He cut Gabriel a sly look. “He said he would have a ladybird waiting in his carriage and that he wanted to set out immediately after he loaded his bags.”

Gabriel had noticed the luggage and trunks in the small entry hall.

“I packed first thing—I didn’t want to anger him. His lordship is a man with a short fuse.” He tapped his temple. “It’s my opinion he’s not quite right in the head.” He gave Gabriel a suggestive look.