Chapter 26
Having returned to Bow Street, Peter prepared to inform a few select Runners of what was required of them this evening. He liked the plan he and the other men had come up with together with Croft after he had come to his senses. What a nightmare that had been, forcing him to see reason.
Peter felt bad for Marsdale. The earl was a good friend though it might take a while for Croft to remember this.
With his wife in danger, he seemed to have forgotten how much Marsdale had already risked on his behalf when he’d helped facilitate Croft’s escape from prison. Had it not been for him, Croft would have ended up on the scaffold.
Peter swept the Bow Street front office with his gaze to remind himself of who was on duty and was relieved when he spotted Jackson. His help would be appreciated. There was also Lewis and Gordon. Three Runners and himself should be enough to cut off the alleyways they’d be in charge of.
His gaze shifted to Gabriella, who looked up from her desk as though she’d sensed his regard.
Thanks to her diligent work last night, they’d figured out who the next victim might be.
Proctor Kipling or Howard Finch. Both men had been reported as constant companions of Stewart Warren and Keith Orwell during their time of deployment.
Peter had sent Runners to both men’s last recorded addresses in order to underscore the threat they might be facing, only to learn that Howard Finch was no longer alive, having taken his own life a few years prior.
This left Proctor Kipling, who’d moved out of his lodgings on Bedfordbury last month and would now have to be found.
Fortunately, his former landlord recalled him mentioning the Fleet Street area, so while the search might take a while, it didn’t feel hopeless. Peter had ordered a couple of Runners to go door to door and let him know when they found Mr. Kipling’s new location.
A soft smile curved Gabriella’s lips and Peter’s chest tightened with affection. Intent on remaining professional, however, he gave her a quick nod in greeting, then cleared his throat.
“Attention everyone,” he began, pausing for a second while all sound ceased.
“Mrs. Croft’s location has been discovered, and a plan devised to get her back and ensure the capture of the man responsible.
If all goes well, Finn O’Leary will have taken up residence in one of our cells two hours from now.
Jackson, Lewis, and Gordon, you’re with me.
“Anderson and Adams, you’ll be required to work overtime since your presence is needed here. I’m leaving you in charge until I return. For the rest of you, it’s business as usual.”
He gestured for Jackson, Lewis and Gordon to follow him to his office.
When he arrived there, he went straight to his bookcase and pulled out a map detailing the area where Seven Dials was located.
The rookery was generally best avoided, even during the light of day.
Under the cover of night, it became a deathtrap.
“The plan is as follows,” he said as he cleared a spot on his desk and placed the map upon it. When he glanced at his Runners who’d gathered around, he saw that they weren’t alone. He sighed. “May I help you with something, Miss Hastings?”
She shook her head. “No.”
When she peered down at the map without saying anything more, Peter straightened and crossed his arms. “You’re not coming with us.”
He needed to make that point absolutely clear.
“I didn’t intend to.” She nudged her spectacles back into place with her index finger. “Please. Go on.”
“I will once you leave.” The withering glare she sent him could not have been more disapproving. Nevertheless, he told her plainly, “This is a strategy meeting. Your presence is not required.”
Lips pressed together in a thin line, she leaned back, chin slightly raised. “Very well. I’ll wait for you outside.”
He nodded, waited until the door swung shut behind her, then told his Runners how to proceed. They’d cut off every escape route in order to trap O’Leary and his men so Croft could gain the upper hand.
“O’Leary’s men should be considered armed and dangerous. They probably won’t care who you are. They’ll only be looking out for themselves, so stay vigilant and be careful.”
“When should we be ready to leave?”
Peter checked his pocket watch. It was already seven-thirty. “Five minutes from now. You ought to go and prepare.”
They hurried from his office, leaving him to adjust his thoughts to what lay ahead. The plan was simple. He liked that. But he’d had this job long enough to know that any number of things could go wrong.
He prayed it wouldn’t and opened his desk drawer, was in the process of collecting a reserve pistol, when he heard the familiar tread of her feet.
Her voice came next. “I don’t like the idea of you venturing into that part of town. It’s too dangerous.”
He met Gabriella’s gaze and saw the concern that brightened her eyes. “I don’t relish it either, but that’s my job. Besides, I’m not going alone.”
“Can it not be avoided?”
“The Crofts will likely be killed without my help. Their servant too. So no, it cannot be avoided. At least not in a way where I’d be able to live with myself after.”
Hugging herself, she took a small step toward him while he finished collecting his weapons. “Promise me you’ll be careful. That you won’t take any unnecessary risks.”
His lips quirked. “I must confess, I like knowing you’re concerned about my well-being.”
Her hands moved to her hips as a stormy look filled her eyes, erasing all semblance of her being even remotely worried. “You are by far the most vexing man I’ve ever encountered.”
“Because you can’t stop thinking about me?” He waggled his eyebrows.
“No, because you… Oh, never mind.”
She spun away and was almost through the door when he said, “I promise that I will return to you unscathed.”
A fragile promise he knew he risked breaking, but leaving her like this — anxious and scared on his behalf — was the last thing he wanted.
“Thank you.” Her whispered words drifted toward him, like a snare intended to pull him to her. Unsure of what he intended to do, he started in her direction, only to pause at the sound of Lewis’s voice coming from the hallway.
“Is Kendrick still in there?” the Runner asked Gabriella.
“He is.” She stepped aside so Lewis could enter.
“Forgive the interruption, but my colleagues have returned with information for you.” Lewis extended his hand, offering Peter a piece of paper. “Looks like Kipling has been found.”
Peter stilled, his heartbeats slowing. It was vital they get to Kipling before he met the same fate as his friends. If they were lucky, he might even be able to tell them who could have done this.
Taking the paper, he scanned the address. “Number 17 Shoe Lane.”
Unfortunately Kipling’s new residence lay in the opposite direction of where Peter was headed. To go there now would waste precious time but to wait…
He dared not do so and yet, he couldn’t abandon the Crofts either.
Torn, he tried to reason his way through this challenge. As it was, he was meant to be on his way. The five minutes he’d given his Runners were already up.
“Let me help.” Gabriella’s voice was firm.
“What?” Peter was already shaking his head.
“There are two essential matters that need your attention. However, you cannot be in two places at once, so let me help. I can go and fetch Kipling, together with Lewis if you can spare him. That ought not be a dangerous task.”
“I don’t know about that,” he hedged.
“Thanks to the pubs and dance halls in the nearby Fleet Street area, plenty of people should be about. No need to worry.”
“There were plenty of people about at the Moorland Ball,” Peter reminded her.
“Not in the conservatory.” She gave him a flat look. “The killer might strike again if we don’t warn Kipling. They’re unlikely to make their move while we’re there.”
“Fine, but you’re taking Anderson too.” As long as she was accompanied by two men, Peter was confident all would be well, though he did think to add, “And you’re taking a carriage.”
“I never would have considered not doing so.”
Confident she would use the necessary precautions, Peter exchanged a few words with Anderson and Lewis, informing them to protect Gabriella as well as they could. Satisfied that both men would also have weapons, Peter took his leave and went to meet with Croft at their predetermined location.
Rain was falling harder than earlier in the day, impeding visibility. The carriage meandered through the winding city streets toward the bleak outskirts of the slum.
Neither Peter nor his men spoke as the carriage clattered over the uneven ground before coming to rest at a dark corner.
“We’ll walk from here,” he said, after which he told the driver, “Wait for us here. If there’s a disturbance, just continue along the street.
” The coachman agreed and Peter gestured for his men to follow his lead.
They fell into step beside him, their only sound the soft tread of their feet against the dirt-packed ground.
Moisture filled the air, wetting the brims of their hats, the napes of their necks, and the coats they wore over their clothing.
A crow squawked nearby before flapping its wings and swooping across the alleyway to another rooftop. Shoulders hunched, Peter tried to ignore the ominous feeling the bird had evoked, and continued forward.
An old woman dressed in rags huddled against the side of a building, trying to escape the elements.
Next to her sat a man. One of his legs was cut off at the knee, the other stretched out before him.
A little farther along, a couple of children watched Peter’s progress.
Both were dressed in shabby rags so dirty they blended with the encroaching darkness.
“We'll split up here,” Peter told Jackson once they reached a divergence in the alleyways. “Gordon stays with me. Keep your weapons ready and prepare to incapacitate anyone who approaches.”