Chapter 25

C hapter 25

I checked my tiny pocket watch as I approached No. 4 Bow Street. I’d told Nathaniel I would meet him at four o’clock—I was a few minutes late. He would be worried.

My steps quickened. I was eager to hear what news Nathaniel might have, but more than that, I was anxious to see him. As I stepped inside the magistrate’s court, my eyes immediately went in search of him.

I found him easily, speaking urgently to Drake in the corner of the main office. Nathaniel’s hair was in disarray, and his eyes were intent as he spoke. And yet, something settled inside me. As if a cloud had moved from the sun, and I could feel its warmth yet again. How quickly I’d come to know him, to depend upon him, to care for him. But that was the way of life. Sometimes a relationship of a fortnight could be infinitely deeper and dearer than one developed over many years. Nathaniel and I had faced so much during our time together, learned so much about each other, that it felt as though I’d known him a lifetime or longer.

As if he could sense me, his gaze flicked up, and he stopped midsentence. He looked me over in a second, as if to reassure himself that I hadn’t come to any harm in the few hours since we’d parted, then he said something to Drake and started directly for me. Drake crossed his arms, eyes amused as he nodded a greeting at me from across the room.

“Everything went well?” Nathaniel asked when he reached me, one hand coming to touch my elbow.

I nodded. “The Harwoods have their instructions. I assume we have Mr. Etchells’s approval for our plan?”

“Yes,” he said. “Rawlings and Drake and an entire patrol stand ready when we need them.”

I exhaled. “Now we wait.”

“Not quite yet,” he said, a new gleam in his eyes. “Come, I’ve something to show you.”

He started back toward the entrance I’d just come through.

“Nathaniel, where are you going?”

“You’ll see.”

We were out the front door and across the street before I realized our destination. The Brown Bear, a tavern Bow Street officers often frequented. My brow furrowed even deeper as Nathaniel held the door for me and ushered me inside. He raised a hand at the barkeeper, then led me through the taproom and down a narrow back stairway.

“What are we doing?” I asked impatiently. We should be preparing for tonight.

“This morning,” he said, his words trailing after him in the confines of the steep passageway, “Bow Street received a message.”

“A message?” I repeated.

“Yes,” he said. “An unsigned note that revealed the location of a man wanted in connection with a robbery on Drury Lane.”

My heart skipped a beat. “You don’t mean ...”

We reached the basement, which revealed a long corridor filled with barred cells. I remembered then that aside from being the preferred watering hole of Bow Street men, The Brown Bear also contained several holding cells since No. 4 had grown too small for the expanding operations of Bow Street.

“I tracked him down while you were with the Harwoods,” Nathaniel went on. “I’ve only just brought him in, and I thought you’d like to be present for my questioning.”

But my eyes were already focused on the man in the first cell, seated upon the pallet bed on the floor. He glared back at us, hooded eyes just as I remembered, revealed by the dim afternoon light creeping through the barred window high above him.

“Tobias Higgs,” I said, my voice hard.

He gave a short laugh. “Everyone round here seems to know my name.”

“You don’t recognize me?” I shouldn’t have been surprised. He likely hit a dozen marks a week. But the fact that his face was emblazoned upon my mind while he could not recall holding a gun to me—

Higgs watched me with a bit more curiosity now. “Should I?”

My eyes narrowed to slits. “I am one of the ladies you robbed the same night you attacked Sir Reginald Harwood.”

“I’m afraid I don’t recall doin’ any such thing,” he said, his voice unconcerned. “And this don’t look like a court. What evidence could you have?”

“Plenty,” Nathaniel said with a threatening rumble. “With several witnesses, including Miss Travers here and the honorable Sir Reginald, I’ve little doubt you’ll be found guilty and sentenced as you deserve. Transportation at best. The gallows at worst.”

Higgs’s expression lost some of its smug confidence, and he paled slightly.

“That is,” Nathaniel said, “unless you choose to help us find the man who hired you. Then perhaps the magistrate would be willing to lessen your sentence.”

My eyes widened right alongside Higgs’s. I turned to face Nathaniel. “Is that something we should promise?” I whispered. “This man is guilty.”

“Yes, he is.” Nathaniel matched my quiet tone. “And he’ll get what’s coming to him. But if we play our cards right, we might fill two of these cells tonight instead of one.”

I did not like it. I understood precisely what Nathaniel’s aim was—Higgs could give us information about whoever was blackmailing Elizabeth. But letting the thief off easy made my veins flush with anger. He did not deserve leniency.

“What are you sayin’ over there?” Higgs asked suspiciously. I turned to face him again, steeling my expression.

“Tell us what you know about the man who hired you to attack the Harwoods,” Nathaniel said, moving directly in front of the cell.

“Wait now,” Higgs protested. “I never agreed. How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain?”

“You don’t.” Nathaniel’s voice was flat, harsh. I nearly shivered at the sound of it. “But you don’t have many options at the moment, so I would suggest helping the one person who can help you .”

Higgs twisted his face into a scowl, but clearly, he was considering it. “Fine,” he muttered. “I’ll do it.”

I wasted no time. “Do you know the man’s name?”

Higgs chuckled, a rough, gravelly sound. “Yes, he handed me his callin’ card,” he said sarcastically.

“Then do you know where we can find him?” Nathaniel pressed, crossing his arms. “Any clues as to his identity?”

Higgs shrugged. “He dressed well, though he tried to hide it under a ratty cloak. Spoke like a gentleman.”

A gentleman? I exchanged a glance with Nathaniel, whose eyes echoed my surprise. I’d been imagining someone like Higgs, a desperate, conniving thief.

“Did he tell you why he wanted you to steal from the Harwoods?” Nathaniel asked. “What did he want with them?”

“I haven’t a clue,” Higgs drawled. “Didn’t care either.”

“How many times did you meet him?” I asked.

“Twice,” he said. “Once when he hired me, and once when I delivered the goods. We met on a street corner.”

I eyed him curiously. An idea began to brew in my mind.

“Did you not hesitate to take such a risky job?” Nathaniel braced one arm on the cell door. “Robbing a family of rank so near the theatre and Bow Street?”

“For what the fellow was offerin’ me?” Higgs smirked. “Even you would have taken it.”

“Doubtful.”

My idea came full circle, and I stepped forward.

“You’ve seen him,” I said to Higgs. “The man who hired you. Could you describe him to me?”

Higgs furrowed his brow. “I suppose. Not sure what good it would do. You aim to knock on every door in London?”

But I turned to Nathaniel, and he was already nodding. “I’ll send someone for pencils and paper,” he said, moving toward the stairs.

“You’re goin’ to draw the man who hired me?” Higgs said with no small amount of amusement as Nathaniel left.

“Yes.” I did not have to explain myself to him. It was a long shot, but perhaps it would give us a chance at discovering Elizabeth’s blackmailer.

“I recognize you now,” Higgs said, putting his elbows on his knees as he sat forward. “That little spark in your eyes. Dangerous, that is. You’d best keep to needlepoint, Miss Travers. This ain’t a lady’s world.”

“A little spark, you say?” I leaned toward him, my voice thin. “You underestimate what a little spark can do, Higgs. It burns. It grows. And I would not want to be you when it does.”

He sat back, eyes wary, mouth pressed into a line. I’d unnerved him. Good. It was easier to weasel information from someone who was off-balance.

And I needed to get every ounce of information from this man that I could.

“Come now,” I said in frustration two hours later. “You must remember if the man had dark eyes or light.”

Higgs threw his hands in the air. He’d been pacing the small cell for the last half hour, no doubt regretting his decision to help us. “I told you,” he growled. “It was night, and I couldn’t have cared less what his eyes looked like.”

I blew out a breath. “Fine. We’ll come back to it.”

“We’ve come back to it twice already,” he muttered, lacing his hands behind his neck as he stared up at the ceiling.

I peered down at the sketch in front of me, tapping the pencil against my forehead. We’d made some progress, but the face in front of me was still irritatingly vague. The only truly helpful detail Higgs had given me was the man’s nose, sharp and short. But there were a thousand men in London with sharp noses. It didn’t help us in the least.

I was about to rip my drawing to shreds, thinking this was useless, when Nathaniel came down the stairs. He beckoned to me, and my heartbeat sped up. I set down the sketch on my chair and went to meet him.

“Elizabeth’s maid just arrived,” he said. “They received a letter.”

I followed him back upstairs and across the street. We’d been waiting for this, hoping for this, but now my chest did not seem to know what to do with the emotions racing through me.

We entered Bow Street, and Marianne looked relieved to see me, surrounded as she was by Drake and Rawlings. I gave her a reassuring smile as I joined the group.

“Tell us exactly what happened,” Nathaniel said, leaning back on a desk and crossing his arms. I was distracted for a short second—how easily this man commanded a room.

“It must’ve been about six o’clock,” she said, clutching her reticule nervously. “A knock on the door and note left on the step. I have it here.”

She held out a folded note, with Miss Harwood written across the front. I recognized the hand immediately from the note Elizabeth had shown us in Bibury.

Nathaniel took it and read aloud.

My dear Miss Harwood,

I cannot imagine what you were thinking, leaving Town as you did. Did you think I would not follow through on my threats? Fortunately for you, I have decided to give you one last chance. Deliver the painting to the park, as I specified in my first letter, by midnight tonight, or everyone will know about your little problem.

Tell no one. Come alone. This is your last chance.

I’ll be watching.

I looked up at Nathaniel when he finished reading. “Tonight,” I breathed.

“Tonight,” he said, eyes fixed on mine.

It took a moment to remember that we were not alone, and I tried not to flush as we turned back to the group. Drake eyed us with a knowing twist of his lips.

“How is Elizabeth?” I asked Marianne to deflect the attention.

“Shaken,” she said. “But determined. She wanted to come herself but worried that she would be followed. But she trusts you all to find this man.”

Elizabeth’s confidence settled like a pit in my stomach.

“The plan seems obvious,” Drake said. “We plant a fake painting at the park, then wait for the blackmailer to collect it. We surround him, and that’s that.”

“It is not so simple,” I said. “He said he will be watching. If he sees anyone besides Elizabeth deliver the painting, he will know something is wrong.”

Marianne shook her head. “I do not think Elizabeth will do it.”

“Of course not,” I reassured her. “I never intended for it to be her.”

A moment of silence, then Nathaniel stood, dropping his hands to his sides. “No,” he growled. “You’re not coming, Verity. This is a Bow Street operation.”

“I’m the only one who can impersonate Elizabeth,” I deflected. “We’re nearly the same height. If I wear a hooded cloak, I’ll look enough like her.”

“You’re not coming,” he said flatly. “I can deliver the painting.”

“You?” I made a sound of amusement. “That would fool no one.”

Indeed, the idea of Nathaniel’s shoulders and tall figure crouched under a lady’s cloak was so ridiculous, I nearly laughed. But the look in his eyes made the smile fall right from my lips. He stepped closer, his gaze fierce and stubborn.

“Then we will find another way,” he said flatly.

I could almost see the workings of his thoughts. He wanted to protect me, and I loved him for it. But he also had to trust me.

“I hate to be the voice of reason,” Drake said, looking positively delighted to do so, “but we may have no other choice, Denning. We haven’t any other leads, and Verity is right. If the blackmailer sees one of us leave the painting, he’ll know it’s a trap, and we’ll never catch him.”

Nathaniel put his hands on his waist, his jaw tight.

“I’ll deliver the painting and leave,” I insisted. “I’ll be in no danger.”

“That does nothing to reassure me,” he muttered. “You attract danger like flies to honey.”

“I can do this,” I said firmly.

His eyes burned into mine, and I knew he was thinking of what I’d told him that night at the inn. How close I’d come to death just a few short months ago. I could not help but think of it too. But it was Nathaniel himself who had told me I must be brave enough to choose my own path. I straightened my shoulders and held his gaze.

“This is our only chance.” My voice was soft but steady. “Please let me help.”

I thought he would argue more, insist on me staying behind. But something in his expression shifted, and his eyes closed. “Fine,” he said roughly. “You’ll deliver the painting. But then you’ll return directly to Harwood House.”

Perhaps I should have been irritated by his authoritative tone, but I was so relieved he had agreed that I nodded. “Of course.”

Nathaniel checked his pocket watch. “It is nearly seven o’clock. We haven’t much time for details.” He blew out a breath as he returned his watch to his pocket. “First, we need a false painting.”

Marianne cleared her throat. “Harwood House has dozens of paintings. I’m certain we can find one of a similar size to The Woman in Red .”

“Won’t it be terribly obvious it’s a decoy?” I asked.

“We can wrap it in paper?” Drake suggested.

Nathaniel crossed his arms. “I’m not sure that will be enough.”

Rawlings spoke for the first time, his Scottish brogue slightly softening the bluntness of his words. “There’s nothing we can do about it. Either he will take the bait, or he won’t, though having Miss Travers deliver the painting will help with the deception.”

Nathaniel considered that, then nodded. “We don’t know how the blackmailer will be watching, so we must assume he has eyes on the house. Verity should leave from there as if she were Miss Harwood.” He turned to Marianne. “We will need the Harwoods’ cooperation. You should return home now and inform them of our plan.”

“I’ll follow from a distance,” Drake said. “To be sure you’re safe, miss.”

Marianne’s cheeks turned pink. “Thank you.”

“I’ll bring Verity along around eleven o’clock,” Nathaniel said, drawing our attention back to him. “She will enter through the servants’ door. The blackmailer can’t watch every entrance.”

Marianne nodded in agreement.

“Once I leave Verity,” Nathaniel said, “I’ll join Drake, Rawlings, and the patrol in St. James’s Park. We’ll form a perimeter around the tree, though we’ll have to be careful. No horses or carriages—they’ll draw attention—and we’ll have to be far enough not to be seen. Verity will deliver the painting and return immediately to Harwood House. Then it will be up to us to corner the blackmailer when he comes.”

A sudden quiet fell over the group as we all considered the plan, trying to imagine any pitfalls or failings.

“It has every chance of working,” Drake said optimistically.

“You say that about every plan,” Rawlings muttered.

“It will work,” Nathaniel said, though he looked at me as he said it. “It will.”

I had to believe him. I had to have faith in my friends. If I didn’t, then the fear that rapped at my door would take full control of me. I exhaled and set my jaw.

We had our plan. And by the end of the night, we would have our blackmailer.