Page 88 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

"That's a lie."

"He was frightened." Tam's voice was quiet.

Florence's hands curled into fists. "Carrick got to him."

"That would be my guess. Probably took the daughter again. Or threatened to."

The last hope crumbled.

For a moment, Florence stood motionless. The weight of it pressed down on her: the miles they'd traveled, the blood they'd spilled, the marriage she'd entered into for nothing.

No. Not nothing.

She felt the shift inside her. Grief and fear and heartbreak compressing, hardening, until what remained was colder. Sharper. Useful.

She was done crying. Done waiting. She was Madam Tansley. She'd stared down monsters before.

Carrick was just one more monster.

"I need access to a telegraph office." she said. Her voice was calm. Flat. Unrecognisable even to herself.

Brennan exchanged a glance with Tam. "There's one in the village. Half a mile east."

"Good." Florence moved to the table, pulling a worn notebook from her satchel. "I'm activating the network. Everyone we have in Scotland and northern England. Every safe house. Every woman who owes us a debt."

"What are you planning?"

"Carrick thinks he's cornered me. Thinks the magistrate was my only play." She looked up, and whatever Brennan saw in her eyes made him swallow. "He's wrong. First, we gather intel about Carrick. Second, I call in favours from other powerful men."

She began to write. Names, locations, orders in codes.

To Edinburgh. Margaret Shaw. Red door protocol. Gather information on Carrick's current location and movements. Report within twelve hours.

To Glasgow. Widow MacPherson. Activate watchers. I need eyes on every road between here and the border.

To Newcastle. Mrs Agnes Preston. Alert all northern contacts. Stand ready for further instructions.

Once finished, Florence rose to her feet, gathering the dozens of telegrams. "What is this place you mentioned? The secret venue?"

"It's where the real fights happen, the ones too bloody for public matches. Only fighters and loyal clients know the location." He paused. "Matthew will meet us there."

Her stomach clenched at the mention of Matthew, but she ignored it. She couldn’t afford to be emotional. "How far?"

"Four hours if we ride hard."

Florence gathered the telegraph messages, folded them carefully. "We send these first. Then we go."

"Tam will send them. He’ll catch up."

Brennan extended his hand to take the heavy satchel from her, but Florence waved him away. She shouldered the satchels, checked her knife, pulled her cloak tight.

Brennan unbarred the door, and Madam Tansley stepped outside, ready to do what she did best.

Chapter twenty-three

The Hollow

Florence