Chapter 26

C hapter 26

Night had descended in full when I hurried across to The Brown Bear once again, the streetlamps glowing against the encroaching dark. I had only a minute to return to Higgs’s cell to gather my things—Nathaniel would be waiting to walk me to Harwood House.

We’d spent the better part of the evening going over the plan again and again. Everyone knew their part. And for the first time in months, I felt confident in mine. I could do this. I could play my role and help Elizabeth and put a dangerous man behind bars. My determination was a heady stream through my veins, and it kept my body moving even though it was after ten o’clock at night.

I slipped inside The Brown Bear, loud and lively, and descended the back stairs. I had thought Higgs might’ve fallen asleep waiting for me to return, but he still sat up on his pallet, eyes peering at me through the dark.

“Decided to come back, eh?” he grumbled.

“Not for long.” I began gathering the sketch and my pencils.

“Why the hurry?” Higgs looped his arms over his knees. “Don’t you want to know what I remembered while you were off flirtin’ with your Runner?”

I paused, my hands in midmotion. “What are you talking about?”

“I remembered somethin’,” he said, lip curling up in a distasteful smirk. “About the man who hired me.”

I scowled. “What did you remember?”

He raised his chin, enjoying lording this over me. “You’re clearly in a rush. Pay me no mind.”

I blew a curl from my face. “For heaven’s sake, just tell me.”

He relented, though he kept that superior smile. “The man. He had a beard.”

“A beard?” I repeated suspiciously. “I questioned you for two hours, and only now you happen to recall such a prominent feature?”

He shrugged. “The mind works in funny ways, Miss Travers. Because I do remember it now. Trimmed short, but yes, a beard.”

I gave a vague shake of my head. It did not matter. We were leaving even now to intercept the blackmailer. “Thank you kindly,” I said, stuffing my things into my reticule. “I’ll take that into account.”

“Into account?” Higgs huffed behind me as I started for the door. “I’ve given you valuable information, and you’re just goin’ to—”

“Leave?” I called over my shoulder. “Yes, yes, I am.”

He shouted after me as I clattered up the stairs, but I wasn’t listening. Higgs had no place in my thoughts anymore. My mind was already focused ahead, concentrating on everything we had to accomplish tonight.

Nathaniel waited for me outside the tavern, arms crossed. “Ready?” he asked.

At my nod, he shoved his hands into his pockets and started up the street.

I frowned and hurried to catch him. Nathaniel had been rather clipped during our hours of planning, but I’d assigned that to him focusing on the case. Now it seemed like more.

“Are you angry with me, Nathaniel?” I asked.

He blew out a long breath. “I wish I were.”

“What is it, then?”

He shook his head. “It won’t do any good to discuss it now.”

“But—”

“Please, Verity.” The shortness in his words left no room for argument. And yet I wanted to argue. Why was he acting so?

We walked to Harwood House in silence, nearly twenty minutes of unbroken quiet that seemed to fill my chest the longer it endured. When we reached the entrance of the mew that ran directly behind Harwood House, Nathaniel held up a hand to stop me, glancing up and down the dark street before hurrying me forward and into the shadows.

“I don’t think we were seen,” he said, his hand warm on the small of my back as we approached the servants’ entrance.

I said nothing, my heart fighting with every ounce of logic inside me. We needed to focus on the task at hand. And yet ...

I took Nathaniel’s arm and pulled him to a stop in the deepest shadows across from the door. “I believe you’re not angry,” I said. “But why, then, will you not look at me?”

He closed his eyes. “This is not the place.”

“Seeing as I won’t be going inside until you tell me, I rather think it is,” I retorted.

“Heavens, Verity,” he said under his breath as he finally met my gaze, his eyes aglow in the moonlight. “You want to know why I cannot look at you?”

“Yes,” I said stubbornly.

He swallowed hard, his eyes tracing over my face. “Because I cannot bear to,” he said, his voice low and rough. “We don’t know what we will face tonight. Anything could go wrong. Anything. You are running blindly into a fire, and I cannot even run beside you. How am I to look you in the eye? It is my job to protect you, not to put you into more danger.” He was breathing hard, and his obvious pain tore through my heart.

I touched his waistcoat with my fingertips, the slightest brush. “Do you think I do not fear for you as well?” I whispered.

His head lifted slightly.

“I am terrified to think of you in harm’s way,” I said, my voice barely audible. I closed the distance between us and pressed my face into his jacket, my arms wrapped around his waist. I tried to memorize his scent, the feel of his breath warm on my cheek. “And yet we have both made our choices. We are choosing to help. To make the world a better, safer place. Of course it will be dangerous.”

“I know that,” he said, and the gravel in his voice made my heart skip a beat. “But it is one thing to plan an operation. It is entirely different to see it play out before me. How can I watch the woman I love—” He stopped.

I stood frozen a second, then tipped my head up to look at him. He stared back at me, eyes suddenly uncertain.

“Love?” I repeated softly. Love .

“I’m sorry,” he said, pulling back. “I shouldn’t have said that. I know you’re not ready to—”

I kissed him. I did not stop to think. One second we were speaking, the next my lips were on his, my hands encircling his jaw. I only knew that I did not want him to go another moment without knowing what I felt for him, and I’d never been terribly good with words. Kissing seemed the best way to go.

Nathaniel apparently agreed. His arms wrapped around my waist, pulling me up to him until my toes barely touched the ground. Our mouths melded together, a fierce connection that marked me at my very core. My heart pounded wildly inside my chest.

He loved me. Me .

I did not know what had changed since we’d spoken that warm evening on the bridge near Rosemont Cottage, when I’d been so afraid of the strength of my feelings for him. It was as though every moment I’d spent with him reminded me of whom he was. Of whom I could be. Of what we could become together . And it was enough to break the ice of aching distrust that had stolen over my heart in the last few years. It was enough for me to reach for what I wanted, even as fear tugged at me and doubt clamored at the back of my mind.

Nathaniel kissed me passionately, fully. He gave all of himself to me, and I felt in his kisses a new hope, a hope that grew within my own heart with every brush of our lips and caress of his fingers. Our kiss at the inn had caught me off guard, had made me reevaluate everything I had thought I believed. This kiss felt like an answer. A declaration of all I’d been too afraid to say before.

When we parted, Nathaniel smoothed a curl behind my ear, his eyes tender. I looked up at him in dazed disbelief. I had told myself for years that this could not be my future. That I would not be subjected to the whims of love. But this was different from anything I had ever imagined. What I felt with Nathaniel was real and true and so boldly ours that I pressed a hand to my stomach, overwhelmed by the flood of emotions that swept me up in its wake.

“I—” My voice caught. I tried again. “Nathaniel, I—”

He pressed a kiss to my knuckles, stopping me. “You needn’t say anything. We haven’t the time. You’re already late.”

Just how long had we stood there kissing in the stillness of the shadows?

“Go now,” he said. “I’ll be waiting in the park when you arrive, near the entrance. I’ll be watching you the whole time.”

He started to move away, but I grasped his hand. “Be careful,” I said desperately. “Please.”

“I am always careful.” The corner of his mouth tipped up. “But perhaps I will be even more careful if you promise to kiss me like that again.”

He spoke teasingly, but I was all soberness in my response. “I promise a hundred such kisses,” I whispered. “A thousand.”

I meant it. I wanted each and every one.

His gaze took on a new fervency. “And I shall be there to claim them.”

I took one last look at him, the shadows and planes of his face that had become so dear to me in so short a time. Then I pulled away and hurried across the alley to the servants’ door. When I glanced over my shoulder, he was already gone.

At my knock, the door opened, and Marianne ushered me inside. “It’s nearly a quarter after,” she said as she closed the door behind me. “Where have you been? We were growing so worried.”

“I am sorry,” I said. “I was ... delayed.”

That was certainly not how I’d ever thought to describe a clandestine kiss in the moonlight, but I could hardly go into more detail now.

“Come,” she said. “Everyone is in the drawing room.”

I heard lowered voices as we approached. When we entered, Sir Reginald, Lady Harwood, and Elizabeth all looked up, expressions serious. Had they been discussing Elizabeth’s future again? Or simply the task we faced tonight?

Elizabeth stepped toward me. “Verity, are you sure about this? Marianne told us what part you are to play, and I cannot in good faith allow you to—”

“I am sure,” I said firmly. “The blackmailer wants the painting. He doesn’t want to harm me—or you, rather. I shall be perfectly safe.”

“Until he realizes the painting isn’t real,” Sir Reginald said.

“I shall certainly be well on my way before then.” I moved toward the wrapped frame on the table before them. “Is this the decoy?”

I lifted the wrapping slightly, peering inside at an angle, then froze. I looked up at the three of them.

“What is this?” I managed.

“ The Woman in Red ,” Sir Reginald said, eyes daring me to argue with him.

“But it is meant to be a decoy,” I protested.

Sir Reginald shook his head. “I hardly care about the painting anymore. I’ll not send you off on this madcap scheme without doing everything I can to keep you safe. If it helps you in any way, it will have been worth it.”

My eyes stung with unexpected tears. This was what a father was supposed to be like. Sacrificing without expectation of reward simply because he wanted to keep me safe. Because he cared. I replaced the brown paper around the painting, my throat dry. “Thank you,” I said, my voice frail. “But as an artist myself, it pains me to put this painting in any sort of danger.” I would never have dared call myself an artist a few months ago, but Mr. Allett’s words from our first meeting echoed through my mind. If you create, you are an artist , he’d said.

“I am confident,” I went on, “in Bow Street’s ability to capture the blackmailer no matter what I deliver. Please, we needn’t risk such a masterpiece. I will take the decoy.”

Sir Reginald’s frown suggested he meant to argue, but Lady Harwood put a hand on his arm. “As you wish, Verity,” she said. “We prepared another just in case.”

Elizabeth brought forward a different wrapped frame and placed it beside The Woman in Red . They looked identical in size and shape, small enough to carry without it being unwieldy. My confidence in my decision was renewed. This would work.

Lady Harwood glanced at the clock anxiously. “You had best be off, my dear.”

Marianne brought me a rich woolen cloak that I knew to be Elizabeth’s. She draped it around my shoulders and pulled the hood forward over my face.

“There,” she said. “No one will know you are not Miss Harwood.”

Elizabeth crossed her arms, looking away.

“Please do not worry for me,” I said, touching her shoulder. “Do not feel guilty. I do this because I believe in law and order. We will catch this criminal, and he shall have no more hold over you or Rose.”

She swallowed hard, meeting my eyes again. “I very much hope so.”

I picked up the decoy painting and fitted it neatly under my arm. I glanced toward her parents speaking quietly and lowered my voice. “Has your father relented at all toward Rose?”

“He has ... tried to see my way of thinking,” she said. “I think it is simply the shock of it all. I’ve disappointed him.” She bit her lip. “But I hope he will soften in the coming days.”

“He will,” I assured her. “He is a good father. He wants only what is best for you.”

“I know.” She released a trembling breath. “Godspeed, Verity. We shall be praying for you until you return.”

Sir Reginald nodded, and Lady Harwood offered a watery smile. I took a deep breath and made my way to the front door, then out into the cool night air. I ducked my head, keeping the hood of the cloak low over my eyes as I came down the steps. Was the blackmailer watching even now?

I could have walked to St. James’s Park, but Nathaniel had insisted that the blackmailer would expect Elizabeth to hire a hack, so that was what I did. The jarvey seemed curious about me, eyeing me as I waved him down, but he only nodded when I gave my destination. I climbed inside the coach and sat in the darkest corner, keeping my hood in place.

We started off, and I set the painting gently on my lap, holding tight to the wrapped frame. I wasn’t sure what painting was inside, but knowing the Harwoods, it was likely valuable still. I would take care.

The coach moved through the night, and my mind flew ahead of it to where I knew Nathaniel was waiting in the park. I’d been to St. James’s Park many times, but I could not picture which tree precisely the blackmailer had detailed. I would have to search for it.

We passed a man on the street, and he glanced toward the hack. I did not recognize him, but it sparked an idea in my mind. I opened my reticule and pulled out my sketch of the blackmailer. I held it up to the passing lamp light, wanting to memorize the face as best I could in case I spotted him and could somehow alert Nathaniel.

He had a beard . Higgs’s voice came back into my head, insistent. I frowned. Had he truly remembered? Or was he simply desperate for leniency? Still, I set the painting on the bench beside me and fished a pencil from my reticule. Though the road was bumpy, I set about filling in the man’s jaw with a short, trimmed beard, as Higgs had described.

It was the work of a minute, and when I finished, I held the drawing away from me. My eyes traced over every feature, willing myself to recognize the face.

I didn’t, of course. For all I knew, Higgs was lying about everything. There was no reason this face should be familiar to me.

And yet . . .

I stared closer. The eyes. I rubbed with my fingers, lightening them as I smudged the graphite. If his eyes had been lighter than the black I’d drawn them, then—

I gasped. My pencil flew over the page again, adjusting the line of the jaw, the curve of the brow, the turn of the mouth. When I finished, I clutched the sketch, my fingers wrinkling the page. They had been such small changes, the beard and the eyes. But once I’d started, I could not stop. I could not unsee it.

The man that stared back at me was Lucas Allett.