18. Alex Takes Charge
Alex Takes Charge
The library door was flung open with such violence that the heavy oak nearly rebounded upon its hinges. Within, Alex and Johan were cozily conversing when Miles stormed in, his countenance flushed, his breathing ragged as though he had sprinted from Covent Garden.
“This time, she has overstepped all bounds of propriety!” he exclaimed.
“I ought never to have permitted her to go in my stead! If they uncover her deception—good God, what then?” He cast up his hands in a gesture of despair.
One hand was clenched around the neck of a wine bottle.
“This lunatic scheme has landed her in real trouble this time—and heaven knows she deserves it! Alex, for heaven’s sake, you must assist me! ”
“That refrain grows tedious,” Alex remarked. “Pray enlighten us as to the latest catastrophe. Perhaps start by explaining your costume, brother mine.”
Mr. Sinclair stalked about the room in high dudgeon, plucking irritably at the apron still fastened about his person.
“It’s merely a disguise to gain access to Sixes he mastered himself with an effort.
Alex cupped the nape of his neck, frustration clear. “We need to gain entry to that gaming hell, and swiftly. But we can’t charge in blindly. The Bittermanns are no fools.”
The Dutchman’s eyes gleamed. “Ah, but the outwitting of rogues is a particular talent of mine. Suppose I were to engineer a distraction of such brilliance that even the redoubtable Bittermanns would find their attention diverted?”
Miles’s hope rekindled. “What sort of distraction?”
“A win at the tables, my dear fellow,’ he replied, his grin assuming a positively wolfish aspect.
“A run of luck so extraordinary that the Bittermanns themselves may be moved to suspect celestial intervention. I shall scandalize the Hazard table, while Alexander heroically retrieves our wayward heroine.”
Alex was skeptical. “And what happens when your winning streak ends? As I recall, the dice are weighted in their favor.”
A dismissive hand waved away this objection. “Speaking of which,” he said, turning to Miles, “do they still use ivory dice? The ones with the faint marbling?”
“Let me think. Last time I was there, it was Frank, I believe—bragging about how smooth they felt in the hand. Yes! Yes, I’m certain they do. Ivory, through and through.”
“Excellent,” Johan declared. “One does so appreciate a foe with dependable habits.”
Miles tilted his head. “Will they remember you from Brussels?”
“I never got to testify against them,” he admitted. “But I was a disgruntled patron of theirs. Some words were exchanged, and I may have left with a bottle of their finest champagne.”
Alex groaned. “And you think they won’t remember you?”
Johan shrugged, his grin unfaltering. “I was but one-and-twenty at the time, and sported a mustache—a ghastly thing but fashionable enough. Now I’m quite clean-shaven. Surely, I’m a different man altogether.”
“I wouldn’t count on it,” Alex muttered.
“It matters little,” Johan said airily. “By the time they’ve pieced it together, we’ll be long gone, our heroine in tow, with your dog and their Hazard table thoroughly confounded.”
“It is a scheme of unparalleled audacity,” Alex murmured, though his expression hinted at admiration for its inventiveness. “But it might work. Miles, you’ll need to dispense with disguises and don something respectable to accompany Johan. He’ll need a sponsor to get in the door.”
“You can’t count me out!” Miles’s hands clenched into fists. “I’m going wherever you’re going, Alex. You grab Lu, and I’ll get Peri.”
“Noble, but impractical,” Alex countered. “Johan’s entry depends on your presence. You’ll have to introduce him as a cousin from the continent—any name will do, just not his own.”
“Then it is decided. I shall enact the role of irresistible decoy, Alexander will assume the part of dashing rescuer, and Miles—my dear Miles—you must strive not to succumb to an excess of agitation.”
A spark of reckless amusement lit Mr. Sinclair’s eye as he turned to quit the room when Johan forestalled him.
“Uh, Miles?” The Dutchman pointed to the forgotten bottle left on a side table. “What is that?”
“Oh, I found that when I was stalling for time in the Bittermann’s cellar. I’m not game to try it, but if they’re up to their old tricks, it might prove to be laced with laudanum.”
After three long strides, Johan held it up, tilting it to catch the light. The dark green glass glinted ominously in the dim light. Its label had been scrawled over in red pencil. It had been opened and re-corked.
“Miles, my dear fretful friend—this is nothing short of genius.”
Miles paused in the doorway, uncertain if he was jesting. “I—I didn’t even know if it was worth grabbing. I thought…well, I thought it might help.”
“Help? Never undervalue such instincts—they are the mark of a true strategist. This could be the key to unraveling the Bittermanns’ entire operation.”
Miles flushed. “Do you truly believe it holds such significance?”
“Alexander, do you know of an apothecary we can trust? Preferably one who won’t ask too many inconvenient questions.”
Alex folded his arms, thinking. “I might. When I was last in London, there was a man with a little shop near the docks. Mostly herbal remedies and tonics, but he’s been known to dabble in chemistry. Discreet enough, too.”
“Erik is still there,” Miles confirmed.
“Then the matter is decided,” pronounced Johan, turning the bottle in his hands with evident satisfaction. “We’ll have this bottle’s contents examined as a priority.”
Alex nudged Miles. “And while our mad friend plays investigator, you must direct your energies toward the retrieval of Periwinkle. Hurry now and change.”
“Capital, Miles! Ere long, we shall uncover the precise nature of their villainous brew.”
Miles looked between them, his face taut with anguish. “And what if those fiends have harmed Lucinda? What if she is even now—”
“She isn’t,” Alex interrupted firmly. “Lucinda is nothing if not resourceful. She’ll hold her own until we get there.”
Miles nodded. Tightening his resolve, he left the room.
Johan cast a sidelong glance at Alex. “You’re worried about her too, yah ?”
“Of course I am,” Alex confessed. “She’s headstrong, reckless—and she never thinks things through.”
“Don’t fret, Alexander. We’ll restore her to you unharmed.” Johan smirked. “And I’ll even let you take all the credit.”
Alex’s tension eased. “Just don’t lose your head at the Hazard table.”
“Lose my head?” Johan’s grin was positively wolfish. “Never! Now, let us rescue your fair damsel before she stages her escape and steals your thunder.”