Ghost of Christmas Past Read Online Free Page A

wrapped tightly around his
neck so that the air didn’t fog out before him and let out a heavy
sigh. Beside them, the old thatched pub was starting to wind down
for the night. The loud laughter had long since dimmed to a dull
roar and several patrons called a cheery goodbye as they had
stumbled out of the door and dispersed into the
darkness.
    “ It’s a wild goose chase,” Rupert sighed. If anyone other than
Hugo had interviewed Rousseau, he would have sent a request to the
jail for a professional to re-question the convict. However, Sir
Hugo was the best in the business and had forwarded the information
to his men personally, so it wasn’t down to Rupert, or anyone else
for that matter, to question the man’s abilities.
    Still,
he was cold, wet, and thoroughly miserable and, not for the first
time, wondering what the hell he was doing. He could be beside the
fire in Bainbridge, with a full stomach, the dog at his feet and
nothing better to do than read or stare into the flames. He quickly
closed that thought out as his treacherous mind immediately put
before him the image of the empty hearth chair opposite. It seemed
to taunt him that Thea should be seated across from him and that
someone very important was missing from his life.
    He had
long since decided that without Thea, he had no intention of ever
retiring to enjoy Bainbridge, the country estate that had been in
his family for generations. Much to the consternation of his
father, Rupert had sent word before he had left Portsmouth that he
was in the army and about to leave the country. He never had
received a response and wasn’t even sure if he was still welcome at
the Samuels’ ancestral home.
    It was
of little consequence really because Rupert didn’t want a home to
himself. If he remained with the Star Elite, he could fight to take
the edge off his anger, and lodge in whatever place had a warm, dry
bed. He would never have to think about staff, duties or
responsibilities to anyone other than himself. If he died doing his
job then word would be sent home to his family. They would ensure
that he was at least buried in the family crypt at Bainbridge. What
they did with his body seemed to be of little consequence though.
The most important part of him, the part that really and truly
mattered; his heart; had been buried four years ago. He was a mere
shell of a man now and happy to remain that way until the good Lord
parted him from the earth.
    Until
then, he had a job to do.
    He
shifted and nudged Marcus as a large, black carriage rumbled to a
stop outside a row of cottages to the left of them. The coachman
made no attempt to get down and drop the step to allow the
occupants out and instead remained still and motionless on the top
seat.
    Rupert
studied the coachman and horses. From several feet away it was
impossible to get a good look at the driver’s face. The top hat he
wore cast the upper part of the face into shadow. The lower part of
the face from the nose downward was covered by the heavy swathes of
material wrapped around the face and neck. A long cloak covered
what was rest of him so it was impossible to tell if the man was
thin or fat, tall or short. The large whip in his hand was held
aloft but not used on the horse that was as black as the
nondescript carriage it pulled.
    Eventually, the carriage door opened and a dark figure
emerged. He had only ever seen a roughly sketched drawing of
Guerin, but knew from the description that had been attached that
the man who had just descended from the carriage was him. Rupert
watched him jump out of the coach and disappear into the cottage
without a backward look but had gotten a reasonably good look at
his face to be able to recognise him. He remained perfectly still
and waited for the coach to pull away, confident in the knowledge
that Luke and Brendan, who were on horseback and watching the
village’s roads, would follow the coach. Between them, the rest of
the Star Elite would keep watch on the front and