23
One Week Later…
Brodie walked up the steps to the Hunt townhouse in Bath, his pulse quickening as he pushed away hazy memories of dragging Lydia down these very steps at knifepoint. He was certain he would not be received here, but he had to try, and keep on trying until he succeeded.
He rapped the knocker, and the butler answered. Brodie remembered him from the night of the abduction as well. But rather than a look of recognition or surprise, there was only cold indifference.
“May I help you?”
“I need to speak with Mr. Hunt, please.”
“Do you have an appointment?”
“Well, no. Can I make one?” Was this the point where English toffs left their calling card? He wasn’t that familiar with these formalities. “I don’t have a card, I’m afraid.”
The butler sighed, his tolerance strained.
