Husband Wanted (HC #1)

21: The Mother of the Man

Bart was frozen, his gaze fixed on the prisoner with the most shocked expression of his life; his eyes were fractionally wider than normal. The man before him swallowed anxiously, appearing just as uncomfortable as Bart felt, as they both waited for Thomas to speak.

The young man in question shifted slightly, swinging one foot to the side to cross at the ankles. It was difficult to see what emotions were playing over his face.

"Your silence is to your credit. I'm sure we can organise further," one hand raised to hover in mid-air as he studied his nails, "incentive for you to remain quiet."

Some of the fear faded from the prisoner's face. "Thank you m'lord!"

Bart abruptly realised that he was holding his breath. As he dragged in air, he drew the attention of the room. His gaze met Thomas', shadowed as it was, and the man seemed to... bat his eyelids at Bart?

"My colleague here," he indicated Bart with a tilt of his chin, "had less faith in your loyalty than I."

It suddenly occurred to Bart that it had only been one eyelid: a wink! Whatever Thomas was playing at, he was taking Bart along for the ride. Either he was involved in this attack or... he was pretending to be someone. Perhaps someone he could pass for when he stood back in the shadows and let his voice drop slightly lower. Someone who had already shown their dislike of David...

Unaware of his companion's realisation, Thomas continued the charade he was weaving. "But now let's test your memory; what precisely were your orders?"

The man hesitated, though it was difficult to read any thoughts or feelings on his bruised and battered face. He shifted his weight to the other foot and the chains clanked, a noise which echoed throughout the cell. Eventually he seemed to decide to talk.

"You told me, m'lord, to find the fella goin' by 'John' that'd be at that fancy wedding and get rid of 'im." The prisoner couldn't get the words out fast enough.

"'Get rid of him' how?" There was a hardness to Thomas' voice that had the hairs on the back of Bart's neck standing on edge. Whatever role he was playing – Bart had to assume it was his father or his brother – he was good at it. The cloak of disguise settled perhaps a little too easily on his shoulders.

His tone seemed to have a similar effect on the man they were interrogating. "You didn't care, m'lord! You just said you wanted 'im dead, is all!"

The words were exclaimed into a dead silence. Between the revolver and the attack... it was one thing to assume that murder had been the goal, but another entirely to hear it said aloud.

"And is he dead now?"

The prisoner flinched away. "No, m'lord." The confession was nearly inaudible.

Thomas let out a long sigh, examining his nails again. "Did I ever tell you why I wanted him dead?"

Perhaps he'd been expecting more anger, because the man seemed to relax slightly at the question. Unfortunately for Bart and Thomas, he was already shaking his head. "No, m'lord."

They both hid their disappointment well.

"You only said that you didn't want your father finding out about your mistake. So I was careful, m'lord! Didn't tell none of the lads that works for 'im."

That confirmed, at least, that he'd mistaken Thomas for his brother Henry.

Thomas smiled, though it was more of a sneer. "Well, I suppose there's no reason to tell you now then." With an imperious sniff, he swivelled on one heel and disappeared into the corridor, the shadows swallowing him whole. Bart made to follow but paused.