Chapter 174

The man sitting inside appeared not to hear them at first. He was slumped against the wall, his head bowed, his clothing soiled and torn. His hair hung in tangled strands across his face, which was slick with sweat. Scrapes marked his forehead and cheek, and dried blood darkened the skin around one temple. His hands rested limply at his sides.

Edmund stared at him, struggling to understand what he was seeing.

Then the man lifted his head and recognition struck. It forced Edmund to take an involuntary step backwards.

"Mr. Linton?"

The man blinked at him. His eyes were swollen with exhaustion, yet they sharpened when he recognized Edmund in return.

"Edmund?" The man croaked, voice hoarse. He looked shocked to see him there.

Edmund’s stomach twisted at the sight of the blood, and he struggled to conceal the horror and revulsion written across his face.

Mr. Linton had visited Ashford House on several occasions. He was an acquaintance of Nathaniel’s, a man whose business dealings had brought him into the company of wealthy nobles and merchants of considerable means.

Edmund had never particularly disliked the man, but neither had he taken much interest in him. He had never felt inclined to learn more about him or seek his company beyond the occasional social call.

He remembered the fine coats the man used to wear, his air of confidence, and the easy familiarity with which he had spoken to Nathaniel.

Yet none of those memories matched the man sitting before him now.

"What has happened to you?" Edmund asked.

Mr. Linton attempted to rise to his feet, but his strength failed him. He barely managed to lift himself off the ground before his strength gave out, forcing him to collapse back down.

Whitmore pushed the door closed behind them.

"Mr. Linton made an unfortunate decision," he drawled. "He believed he could disclose information that was not his to tell and walk away without consequence."

Edmund turned towards him. "He is a friend of my father’s."

This time his confusion was accompanied by a mounting dread.

"An acquaintance of your father’s, perhaps. That is not quite the same thing."

"But why is he here?"

"Because he betrayed me." Whitmore said simply, like he was stating a mundane fact.

Whitmore spoke without a hint of anger. He might have been discussing something as benign as a broken pocket watch or a dinner menu.

The absence of any visible agitation made the sight of Mr. Linton battered and bleeding, more disturbing. Fear and shock had Edmund frozen to the spot and all he could do was watch on in horror.

"I value discretion, and I reward those who remain loyal to me. Mr. Linton has long enjoyed the benefits of my goodwill, but by choosing to betray me, he has forfeited every advantage that came with it. He can no longer expect my protection, my favour, or any of the privileges he once enjoyed through his association with me."

Linton groaned something as he shifted against the wall.

"What was that? It isn’t polite to mumble." Whitmore chided. "You clearly have a lot you want to say. This is your chance."

Linton fixed him with an intense stare, his chest rising and falling with each laboured breath. He stayed stubbornly silent.

Edmund could scarcely bear to look at him. He had so many questions. How long had the man been confined there? Did anyone else know where he was?

Yet every question that formed in his mind seemed too small for the situation in which he found himself.

"What will you do with him?" Edmund stuttered, swallowing nervously. This was hardly how he had imagined spending his day. Nothing could have prepared him for what he witnessed, much less for the horrifying revelation that Whitmore, a man he had long idolized, was capable of such monstrosity.

What sort of secrets did Whitmore possess that he was willing to go to such lengths to protect them? Was this what he did to all those who wronged him?

"I haven’t decided yet." He answered, wearing a faint smile as if he were relishing the sight of the brutalized man. Sadistic. Vile. He was that and so much more. "Perhaps if he begs me hard enough, I might show him mercy this once."

Linton bared his teeth in a show of defiance. He might have been beaten within an inch of his life, but his spirit remained unbroken, and there was still some fight left in him.

"Why did you bring me here?" Edmund finally asked the question that had been troubling him most. He needed to understand why Whitmore had brought him to witness this.

Whitmore turned to face him. "This is what happens to those who betray me, Edmund. I have little patience for fools, and none at all for traitors. A man who enters into an arrangement with me must understand that his obligations do not cease to exist simply because he finds them inconvenient."

Edmund felt an overwhelming urge to retreat, but remembering that Whitmore valued steadfastness, he forced himself to hold the man’s gaze rather than look away.

"I understand," he managed to say, though the words felt unconvincing even to his own ears. Judging by the faint quirk of Whitmore’s lips, the man was no more persuaded than he was.

"Do you?"

The pointed question left Edmund floundering for an answer. He could hardly claim to approve of what he had witnessed without telling a barefaced lie, nor could he pretend to comprehend the reasoning behind such cruelty. Yet questioning Whitmore’s actions was a risk he could scarcely afford to take.

Whatever his reservations, he was not prepared to jeopardize everything he had worked towards by challenging the man who held so much power over him.

That did not make the sight before him any easier to tolerate.

Whitmore watched him for another moment, seemingly taking note of the doubt and conflicting thoughts written across his face. Whatever he found there appeared to satisfy him, for his expression relaxed slightly.

"You will say nothing of this visit," Whitmore instructed him, his tone leaving no room for argument. It was both a warning and a command, and Edmund understood that disobedience would come at a price.

His gaze strayed towards Linton once more, uncertainty gnawing at him. Surely Whitmore did not expect him to walk away and pretend nothing had happened while a man lay trapped in that room, bleeding from his wounds. Linton’s condition was dire enough that he needed immediate medical attention, and leaving him there could have disastrous consequences.

"No one?" Edmund asked, turning back to Whitmore.

"No one." The man’s voice acquired a sharp edge. "What you have witnessed stays between us. Should word reach the wrong ears, I shall know that someone has spoken. I trust you understand the implications."

Edmund understood all too well. The realization sent a chill through him as he considered the position in which he had been placed. If he kept his word, he would become complicit in concealing this crime. If he spoke, he would be breaking his promise to a man who had made it abundantly clear what happened to those who crossed him.

Still, Edmund was a nobleman, the son of a Count. Surely Whitmore would not subject him to the same cruelty he had inflicted upon Linton. He clung to that reassurance, though it did little to quiet his misgivings or strengthen his resolve.

"I won’t tell anyone," Edmund promised.

Whitmore regarded him for a moment before giving a small nod of approval. "Good. I knew I could trust you."

Edmund felt as though he had just passed a test without ever realizing he was being examined. The praise should have pleased him, yet it offered little comfort when he knew what his compliance meant. By agreeing to keep Whitmore’s secret, he had allowed himself to be drawn further into something he neither understood nor wished to be part of, and he could see no easy way out.

"Will you keep him here? Please, I need to know."

Whitmore dismissed the question without hesitation. "That is not for you to concern yourself with."

"But—"

"Come, Edmund."

He had already turned towards the door, beckoning Edmund to follow him as though the matter had been settled and required no further discussion.

Edmund hesitated before obeying, casting one final glance at the prisoner. Linton had lowered his head again, his shoulders sagging beneath the weight of his exhaustion.

It troubled Edmund, and as he stepped out and the door closed behind him, an unsettling thought crept into his mind. What if he had just seen Linton alive for the last time?

He followed Whitmore down the corridor, but his thoughts remained fixed on the room they had left behind.

He had questions he desperately wanted answered, yet he could not bring himself to voice them. He doubted he would like what he heard, and whatever explanation Whitmore offered would do nothing to erase the memory of Linton’s battered body.

They turned into a narrower passage, where the air grew noticeably colder as they descended a short flight of steps. Edmund glanced around, growing increasingly uneasy as the unfamiliar surroundings gave him little indication of where they were headed.

"Where are we headed now?"

"There is one more thing I wish to show you."

The answer did little to ease his apprehension. If anything, it made him wonder what else Whitmore had in store for him.

At the end of the passage stood a heavy iron door, its dark surface marked by scratches. A small metal hatch had been fitted at eye level, its presence adding to the forbidding appearance of the door. Edmund’s pace slowed as they approached, his unease deepening with every step.

Another prisoner, he assumed. Perhaps someone else who had crossed Whitmore, though the thought of witnessing another scene like the one they had just left made his stomach churn violently.

Whitmore stopped before the door.

"Wait here."

He reached for the small hatch and slid its cover aside.

The corridor was dim, but a thin band of light entered the cell beyond.

At first, Edmund could make out nothing. The darkness inside the cell seemed impenetrable, swallowing the light before it could reveal the room’s interior.

Then there was the sound of hasty shuffling

A figure scrambled upright in the darkness.

"Hello?" A female voice called out. She sounded young, uncertain and scared "Hello? Who is there?"

Edmund once more stood frozen. Several thoughts fleeted through his mind and looked horrified by every one of them.