Chapter 25
Normally, the streets of London were my favorite place in the world. They invigorated me with their energy and vitality, and I never grew tired of watching people cross to and fro.
Today, however, not even the fascinating melee of London’s busy Mayfair could distract me from the nerves that buzzed inside me, like a swarm of bees in a summer meadow.
“Are you ready?” Alexander spoke in my ear, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.
He stood right beside me, and though we did not touch, I could feel the warmth of his body, the air around us cold and blustery.
“I’m ready.” My voice creaked, giving me away.
“I’ll be there,” he promised gruffly. “Just out of sight but close enough to hear everything. You needn’t be afraid.”
I looked up at him. “I’m not afraid for my safety,” I said. “I’m only afraid I won’t be able to do what I need to, that this will continue to hang over my life like an axe. I want to—” I had to stop, swallow hard. “I want to be free from this. From her.”
He gazed down at me, his eyes holding a familiar understanding. “You can do this, Beatrice,” he said quietly. “Only you can end this the way you deserve.”
His voice was a balm to my nerves, his words a reminder of all I had overcome. He was right. This was my battle, and I intended to win it decisively.
He glanced up. “Here is Drake.”
Mr. Drake was crossing the street, his sandy hair tucked under a hat and his hands in his pockets. He spotted us on the corner and made his way over. He smiled at me. “Miss Lacey.”
“Mr. Drake,” I greeted him. I’d seen him this morning when we had all met together at Bow Street—Mr. Drake, Jack, Verity, Mr. Denning, Alexander, and I—to go over the specifics of our plan.
I had thought that perhaps there would be some awkwardness between us, perhaps a flash of embarrassment on either of our sides.
But he had been all that was professional and good-natured, and I’d been immediately at ease.
“Drake will wait here with you until it is time,” Alexander said, though we’d gone over the plan a dozen times at least. “He will observe from here once you’ve gone in.”
I nodded.
Alexander shot a glance at Mr. Drake, who apparently received some sort of signal from his friend because he coughed and turned away.
Alexander stepped closer to me. “Be careful,” he said in a low, rough voice that sent a shiver across my skin. This man really should not be allowed to whisper anything in a lady’s ear. It made me feel rather scandalous, though we stood on a public street.
“I doubt Clarissa will pull a weapon on me,” I managed lightly.
“One never knows what a cornered rat will do.” His expression hardened. “Stay alert. If anything feels wrong, just leave.”
“You know I won’t do that.”
He exhaled. “I know.” His fingertips trailed from the inside of my wrist up my forearm, leaving a streak of fire behind.
“I have to finish this,” I whispered. I knew what I had to say and what I had to make Clarissa say.
“I know,” he said again. His hand settled behind my elbow.
One small tug would bring me close enough to kiss him.
But he only swallowed hard, the muscles in his throat tight, and gave the smallest press of his fingers against my arm.
Then he turned and strode away, setting his hat on his head with both hands as he made his way through the crowd.
My pulse escalated as soon as he left my side. It only reaffirmed to me how settled he made me feel, how safe. It was a feeling I would never take for granted.
Alexander crossed the street and opened the door to Hatchards bookshop.
That was where we’d planned to make our stand against Clarissa, if she deigned to show.
I could just make out the red flash of Verity’s pelisse through the bow window.
She and Jack were already inside, pretending to shop, while Mr. Denning kept watch up the street.
“Everything will be fine, Miss Lacey,” Mr. Drake said from behind me, his confidence a palpable thing.
I glanced at him. He really was a handsome gentleman, with a contagious smile and shoulders any girl would swoon over. But there was no flutter in my stomach when he spoke nor any heat in my cheeks when he looked my way.
My heart was spoken for.
“I hope so,” I replied.
We stood in silence, both of us watching around the corner for Clarissa. It was nearly three o’clock. Would she come?
Then I caught sight of a dark-blue cloak weaving through the crowd toward the bookshop.
It was a woman, from the build of the figure and the make of the cloak.
She wore her hood, though it wasn’t raining, and when she glanced to the side, I caught her face in profile: slightly squashed nose, freckles, and clever eyes.
“That’s her,” I said, my mouth dry.
Mr. Drake moved up beside me, and we watched as she reached the doors of the bookshop, looked up and down the street, then entered.
“That is your cue, Miss Lacey,” Mr. Drake said quietly. “Good luck.”
I nodded disjointedly. My lungs were too tight, and I felt like I might be ill. I inhaled deeply, set my shoulders, and strode across the street.
Entering the bookshop, I glanced around as nonchalantly as I could manage.
To my right were Verity and Jack, inspecting a shelf of books behind the counter.
Neither looked at me—professionals, the both of them.
I did not see Alexander. He must have made himself scarce in one of the other rooms nearby.
He would come closer once I engaged Clarissa and distracted her.
I swept my gaze to the left, and there she was, just entering another room full of bookshelves.
She moved slowly, cautiously. She wouldn’t know who to expect.
I’d had an anonymous note delivered to her home early that morning, a note that demanded a meeting at this time at Hatchards.
Alexander hadn’t been at all certain she would come, but I’d had a sense that she would not be able to resist. I’d been right.
Her back was to me, so I had the advantage as I approached. I stopped in the doorway, noting the other door beyond Clarissa, the room being almost more of a passageway, albeit lined with books.
“Miss Haythorne.” My voice was low but steady.
She turned sharply, and I was rather gratified to see the shock cross her face, her mouth parting. She stared at me a moment, then straightened, seeming to connect her thoughts. “You sent me that note?”
I stepped farther into the room so it was just the two of us having a private conversation. Or so she would think. But I knew Alexander, Verity, and Jack would all be shifting closer now outside the doors on either side of us.
“I did,” I said evenly.
Her eyes razed over me, intelligent and hard. She did not like this. She was a woman who always knew everything.
“I’m leaving,” she said shortly and started forward.
My stomach turned. I had not anticipated this. I’d thought her curiosity would keep her here, but she was too careful.
I stepped to block her. “I think you might reconsider once you hear what I have to say.”
“I doubt it.” She then turned on her heel and went toward the other door.
“I know what you and that man were doing the night of the Granville ball.”
My words had their intended effect. Clarissa stopped abruptly, paused, then whirled on me. I was in the thick of it now.
“What did you say?” she asked dangerously.
I narrowed my eyes. She’d intimidated me long enough. She had no power anymore. “That night when I interrupted your assignation,” I said, stepping closer. “But it was much more than that, wasn’t it?”
“You don’t know the first thing about what you saw.” Her lip curled.
“Oh?” I tilted my head. “So you and Jasper Rowde weren’t working together to steal from Lord Granville?”
Her sneer fled in an instant, replaced by a stunned incredulity.
“Oh yes,” I said. “I know his name. And I know that you two have been partners for years. You infiltrated parties and balls, then found a way to sneak him inside to rob people blind. Am I right?”
She said nothing, her expression twisting into something cold and angry.
“I know that I am,” I said, “though I cannot figure why you would do it. You have everything, Clarissa: wealth, status, influence. Why would you risk it all for a common thief? For money you don’t need?”
“He isn’t common,” she bit back, then looked like she regretted it immediately.
Her answer told me a great deal, and I was taken aback.
Whatever her relationship was with Rowde, she cared for the man.
Or at least, however much a creature like her could care for another person.
I felt a small pang of sadness for her—warring with my anger—at the loss she did not even know was coming.
“Is he the reason you never married?” I gripped my skirts with both hands. “I did wonder. You must have had prospects.”
“Of course I had prospects,” she snapped, then quickly glanced behind her as if realizing how her words might carry. “Stifling, boring, enormously irritating prospects.”
“So Mr. Rowde is . . . exciting?”
She sniffed, nose in the air. “You wouldn’t understand, dull girl that you are.”
“Yes, so dull I cannot keep two thoughts in my head at the same time,” I said dryly.
She eyed me, then moved closer. “You know as well as I how empty our lives are.” Her voice was low and sharp.
“Preening and primping for Society, a society that only cares if we are married or not. I needed more, you see. And Jasper showed me that. He was a footman in my own house, and I caught him stealing from us. But instead of turning him in, we fell in together.”
I stared at her, trying to hide my surprise at every word that fell from her lips. “The risk though,” I managed. “How could it be worth it to you?”
“What is life without risk?” she said. “Besides, it isn’t as if the people we steal from do not deserve it. They are hypocritical monsters, the lot of them. Jasper helped me see that.”
“Did he?” I asked. “Or does he simply see you as a means to a greater quarry?”