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"Now what?" Derek was totally out of his element and counting on Col to understand the blackmailer"s twisted mind.

Col gave him an odd, pitying look. "Now, we find a hack carriage over on Brooks Street, so no one suspects the mighty Lord Framlingwood has decided to lower himself to rented conveyances."

"And then what?"

"We find out what the devil the blackmailer wants to keep silent until we can sort out this whole mess."

"He could ask for anything; he could ask for the moon." Derek"s stomach did an odd flip. He might actually have to race to one of his own water closets.

"How much are the lives of your precious mistresses worth? Even more so, how much is your reputation worth?"

Derek rallied and nodded in assent before leading Col toward the hallway door leading out to the square.

Brighton, his butler, met them halfway with their jackets and hats. "Shall I have Mrs. Smith hold supper for you this evening?"

When Derek stammered whilst trying to form an answer, Col interrupted. "Brighton, we have urgent business that may keep the earl out until very late."

With that they walked sedately through the door and out into the square before breaking into a trot to find a hack.

Meanwhile, over at Number One Grosvenor Square

Toplofty carefully moved aside the small metal disc covering a hole in the wood he"d installed at the back of the butler"s pantry. He leaned forward toward the back of shelves full of silver soup and gravy tureens. He continued steadily polishing a pile of silver forks and spoons he"d lined up along the marble counter below the shelves.

He had a routine where, if interrupted by a maid, or God forbid Mrs. Collins, he"d turn and cover the peephole with his body whilst continuing to polish. He had just the snooty look and accent perfected to enquire as to what the intruder might need that was so important, they had to interrupt his concentration. That ploy would not work with Mrs. Collins, obviously. He"d have to think on his feet in the unlikely eventuality that she"d be nosing about at that time of the day.

He could only hope his cock wouldn"t give away what he"d been doing, which was why a butler"s full trousers suited him just fine.

At that moment, he leaned out into the general kitchen area to see if anyone was still lingering about. This was the perfect hour of the day for all of the servants to steal small breaks. In fact, the maid and footman now rendezvousing in the buttery behind the butler"s silver storage pantry were taking advantage of that very break. He shuffled noiselessly back to his post and leaned in toward his peephole. Let the games begin.

He particularly enjoyed watching this couple, since they were apparently old hands at fast and furious, surreptitious fucks. The footman, still in full uniform regalia, unbuttoned the falls on his breeches, pulled out his cock and sat unceremoniously on the stone shelf where the household butter stores were kept. He even had to nudge aside a large stone crock of cheese. The man must walk around with a perpetual hardened cock, because the minute he rolled down the top half of his breeches, his manhood immediately sprang free and ready for an afternoon ride.

The maid loosed her mammoth breasts from her bodice for suckling pleasure whilst she climbed aboard the footman"s hard-working cock. Toplofty estimated the entire duet took less than ten minutes whereupon the maid would stand between the footman"s legs, he"d withdraw his cock for a swipe with a linen out of his pocket, she"d lower her skirts, he"d roll his falls back up, button them, and off they"d go, back to their posts without so much as a by-your-leave. The entire erotic dance was so short, it was over nearly before Toplofty had a chance to complete his own pleasure with a bit of butter on his own fingers. And then he"d return to his polishing.

He smiled at the thought of what the priggish Mrs. Collins would do if she caught him in the act of pleasuring himself in the butler"s pantry. Come to think of it, he wouldn"t mind cornering the earl"s sensual housekeeper in the pantry whilst in the throes of his tackle being hard as stone. He wasn"t afraid of being dismissed, though, because the pirate duchess needed his gang safe and in her employ.

He and his boys all just had to lay low for a while after that thing Young Rutherford got into with the warehouse factor"s wife. He could never understand how his youngest son could look so youthful and innocent whilst being the randiest cock of the docks. Someday that young wretch would swive a lethally wrong woman and they"d all be on the run for their lives.

9 September, 1826

London Docks

Col and Derek dismissed the hack cabbie a few streets over from the address posted by the blackmailer and walked the last distance to their destination along narrow, alley-like streets. Many of the streets were so tight in width, Col couldn"t imagine how in Hades they managed to haul goods out of the many warehouses lining them. The smell of the Thames had reached its summer pinnacle of stink. How men managed to work as lighterman and warehouse workers every day whilst breathing in that stench was beyond him.

Derek pounded at the entrance to Hoxley Warehouse on St. Katharine"s Way, but there was no answer, since the building appeared to be abandoned. He pounded again, louder, until Col placed a finger to his lips, signaling for quiet. He squatted down on the front step and looked all around the area. "Aha--." He stood up with a small, rusted tin box in his hand. He pried off the lid with a pencil pulled from his pocket. A small bit of foolscap inside had barely legible directions scrawled:

Pepper Alley Stairs and don"t be a saunterer,

drop down and count to twenty

Derek shoved his fingers through his hair and acted as if he wanted to howl into the fog moving in on a breeze from the river.

Col took a deep breath and grasped the man by his shoulder, squeezing hard. "Stand fast, man. This is the only way we"re going to find out what the damned blackmailer wants and buy you and those poor women some more time."

The earl leaned over, his hands on his knees for a few minutes and then straightened. "Let"s do this." He trotted off in the direction of a wider street. Col fell in behind him, racing to keep up with the tall earl"s strides. With any luck, they might find another hack. The fog was moving in, but it was still early enough that cabbies wouldn"t abandon the cutpurse streets north of the bridge.

The old bridge was still standing while construction banged on for the new one. If memory served Col correctly, Pepper Alley Stairs were just to the south side and west of the bridge.

Once they hailed a hack on St. Katharine"s Way, Col settled back into the stiff squabs and went over some things buzzing at the back of his head. Why had the blackmailer gone to such lengths to hide his identity and intent? He must have an urgent reason for them not to know who he was. In his experience, many blackmailers were brazen and didn"t care whether their victims knew them or not. They had something their gulls didn"t want the rest of the world to know and they wanted to be compensated for their silence. He"d actually acted as mediary in a number of cases where people begged him to deal with unsavory characters.

This case was different in an ugly way, though. This bastard wanted money to ensure the safety of the innocent women the earl had taken on as his mistresses. This was more of a protection scheme that he"d usually seen practiced by the gangs in Whitechapel or over in Southwark. Those ruffians never cared who saw them. They"d never go to such extremes to hide their identities.

Derek stirred next to him in the narrow, open hack. "I hope to God this is the last mad dash this miserable thief sends us along. I feel like an idiot letting him lead us around by the nose."

Col gave him a wry look. "Says the man who"s crazy enough to keep five mistresses."