"Would you prefer that I explain it here, with your lovely wife present, or shall we wait until the performance is over?"
There was the faintest hint of amusement in Draven’s tone.
Samuel swallowed.
His gaze flickered toward Hyacinth. She remained completely absorbed in the performance, her attention fixed on the stage and entirely unaware of the conversation taking place beside her.
Thank God for small mercies.
Samuel turned his attention back to the stage.
"We should wait until the performance is over," he said weakly, releasing a strained breath.
"I thought you might say that."
Draven settled back into his seat.
They exchanged no other words for the remainder of the performance, but Samuel found that he could no longer lose himself in the opera.
Nervous anticipation had wrapped itself around him like a vice. With every passing minute, the end of the performance drew closer, and he felt increasingly like a criminal awaiting trial.
What did Montague know?
Samuel felt as though he were standing on a steep cliff, and with only a few carefully chosen sentences, Draven had been herding him closer and closer to the edge.
Now there was nowhere left to go.
As the performance finally came to an end, the conversation Samuel had been dreading felt unavoidable.
He remained outwardly composed, applauding along with the rest of the audience while the performers took their bows. Beneath that calm exterior, however, his thoughts raced.
Perhaps Draven knew nothing. Perhaps he was merely fishing for information.
Samuel clung to that possibility because the alternatives were far less comforting.
They left the box with Hyacinth leading the way, Samuel following close behind, and Draven several paces back.
The duke did not walk beside them, yet Samuel remained acutely aware of him throughout their journey toward the exit. Every measured footstep behind him seemed to remind Samuel that the conversation had not been forgotten.
Outside, carriages lined the lamp-lit street, their lanterns casting pools of warm light across the pavement.
Their own carriage waited only a short distance from the entrance.
Hyacinth climbed inside first, gathering her skirts as she settled into her seat. She then looked back through the open door, expecting her husband to follow.
Instead, Samuel closed the carriage door.
𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺
Hyacinth’s brows knitted together.
"Go home, Hyacinth. There is something I must attend to before I return."
Through the glass, she stared at him with obvious displeasure. Her expression made it clear that she found his explanation entirely unsatisfactory.
Samuel offered her a placating smile.
"I promise it will not take long."
Hyacinth looked as though she wanted to argue, but the carriage lurched forward before she could say anything.
Whatever questions she had would have to wait.
Samuel stood where he was, watching until the carriage disappeared into the distance. Anything that could delay what awaited him would have been welcome.
Then he turned and found Draven standing several paces behind him, waiting with the patience of the devil himself, certain that Samuel’s soul would soon be his.
Samuel exhaled slowly.
"So," he said, forcing himself to sound composed, feigning confidence he certainly did not feel at that moment. "What did you have in mind to discuss with me, Your Grace?"
Draven made a low humming sound in his throat before answering. "It is not only I who wishes to speak with you, Mr. Laci. There are others waiting as well." His gaze shifted toward the entrance. "I would rather we did not discuss such a delicate matter here. There are too many ears nearby, and I have no desire to provide entertainment for the departing patrons."
This cold, detached man standing before him seemed nothing like the charming duke from earlier. It was difficult to believe they were the same person.
Draven gestured for him to follow. "Come. We can find somewhere private inside."
Samuel did not argue. He followed behind, seeing no other way forward without implicating himself further.
They passed through a side passage and moved deeper into the building, away from the main entrance and the crowds still making their way out. Eventually, Draven stopped before a quiet room that appeared to serve as an office. It was large enough to accommodate several people comfortably.
He stepped aside, allowing Samuel to enter first.
Neville was standing near the far wall. Two other men were there as well.
One was stern-looking, with the bearing of a man accustomed to giving orders. A younger man stood beside him, carrying a leather case.
Samuel did not recognize either of them.
Unease settled in his stomach. Draven was the only familiar face in the room, and that offered him very little comfort.
It had been a calculated ambush.
None of this had happened by chance. Draven knew exactly which private box belonged to Laci. He had deliberately entered it, struck up a seemingly casual conversation, and then lured Samuel here.
Every step had been planned.
Now Samuel found himself surrounded by men he had never met before, with no idea what they intended to do with him.
Draven indicated the chair opposite him.
"Sit." It was a command.
Samuel lowered himself into the chair. His attention moved from one man to the next before returning to Draven. Of all of them, the duke remained the greatest threat. Forgetting that, even for a moment, would be a mistake.
"May I know what this is about?" Samuel demanded.
"I imagine you are aware that the discovery at your warehouse has generated considerable discussion," Draven said.
Samuel folded his arms defiantly across his chest.
"I am well aware of that. My name is attached to the property, after all."
"Indeed." Draven’s voice remained calm. "Which is why I thought you might help me understand the circumstances surrounding it."
Samuel gave him a guarded look.
"I am sure a man in your position possesses enough resources to uncover whatever information you require without asking me."
"I do," Draven agreed. "It would save me a considerable amount of time and resources. But I prefer to hear things from the source. I am curious to hear what you have to say."
A flicker of irritation crossed Samuel’s face.
"The warehouse is mine," he said carefully, "but it was leased at the time the contraband was discovered. Once a property is leased, I cannot reasonably be held responsible for everything a tenant chooses to do within it."
"Of course." Draven’s gaze remained fixed on him. "Tell me about the tenant."
Samuel shifted in his chair.
"I do not make a habit of investigating every man who rents one of my properties. My concern is the rent. Whether it is paid on time. Whether the terms of the lease are observed. Nothing more."
He paused before continuing.
"And this particular tenant always paid promptly. Often in advance and in full. He presented himself as a merchant whose business appeared to be doing rather well. I had no reason to look deeper into his affairs. And after the trouble he has caused me, I sincerely hope I never see the man again. He dragged my name into this mess and has caused considerable damage to my business. I would prefer he never show his face anywhere near me again."
Draven studied him for a moment longer.
"Tell me more about this man."
Samuel clenched his jaw. "I already told you. I barely knew him."
Draven’s focus did not waver.
"And his name... What was it again?"
"Tim Barrow," Neville supplied helpfully. "We searched all of Caldor and could not find any information about his whereabouts. It is as though the man simply vanished."
"Ah, that’s right. Tim Barrow, the runaway criminal." Draven said before refocusing on Samuel. "You are a liar, Mr. Laci and a very bad one at that."