Chapter Twenty-Three
Ever since Eoin had learned Hannah’s true motivations for assisting him in his search for his mother and his sister, he’d felt numb.
It was as if he’d once again become an automaton—only he wasn’t governed by clockwork but by unrelating logic.
He’d sorted through Francis’s belongings and felt…
nothing. Even when the group had discovered the priest hole, he hadn’t experienced a single spark of adventurous energy.
He’d just wanted the whole affair to be over.
If they unearthed damning evidence indicting his uncles, then the Wicks could have their revenge, and Eoin could have his peace.
But then Lord Percy had burst into the solar and announced that the Black Sheep—Hannah’s home and livelihood—was under threat. And although it was the Purveyor who was planning the attack, the fault was entirely with Eoin. He’d dragged Hannah into this dangerous debacle.
He would not allow any harm to come to her or to the establishment that she and her family had labored to build. Eoin’s need to protect sliced through the hazy cocoon surrounding his emotions. He would bring down the Purveyor—no matter who was behind the appellation.
“What?” Sophia cried. “How would you know? Why?”
“This brave young man, Peter, told me when I was having coffee at the Black Sheep. Fortunately, I knew you would all be here today,” Lord Percy said theatrically as he swept his arm toward the waif from the Horse and Hen.
The boy was clearly frightened. He clawed at his own hands as he stood with his face directed straight at the ground.
Hannah hurried over to the lad, her countenance soft and welcoming. “Are you hurt at all, Peter? Did you escape from the Horse and Hen?”
Peter’s chin jutted out defiantly even as it wobbled. “I can come and go of my own accord. Nobody noticed me.”
Eoin noticed that the youth didn’t answer Hannah’s first question. Given the life he led, Peter was probably always suffering from some bruise or wound.
“You didn’t come to us for aid?” Hannah asked.
Peter shook his head and then jerked his chin in Eoin’s direction.
“I owe that big man a favor, and I’ve come to repay it.
Mr. Jenks was calling for men and lads to burn down the Black Sheep.
We’re supposed to make it seem like a right old riot.
I remembered you telling me to head to that coffeehouse if I ever wanted to work for someone other than a kidsman.
So I knew it had something to do with the two of you. ”
“Thank you,” Eoin said as he walked over to the youth, trying not to step too close and crowd him. “I’ll reward you handsomely, and I can offer you a place to stay too. I won’t make you pick pockets or fight other boys.”
The youth puffed out his chest. “How am I going to learn to defend myself if I stay out of the ring?”
“I’ll teach you,” Eoin’s mother said. “In fact, I’ll make you my student.”
Peter seemed vastly unimpressed. “Who are you?”
“I’m the Duke of Foxglen’s mother and Championess Quick,” she answered.
The boy’s eyes grew huge. “I thought he was a toff! But, cor, he’s your son! Everyone knows about you. You’re famous at the Horse and Hen!”
“Then you know that I can protect you,” Championess Quick said.
“We can,” Lizzie chimed in. “You’ll be safe with us, and we’ll teach you how to fight anyone, even adults.”
Peter glanced at them skeptically. “You want me to tell you about the Purveyor, don’t you?”
“You still have a place with us even if you say nothing more,” Championess Quick promised. “You’ve already put yourself in danger to warn us about the Black Sheep, and we will protect you.”
Eoin’s worry increased. “Your amphitheater! If they are attacking the coffeehouse, your establishment could be next. Even if the Purveyor has no connection to my uncles, he still knows that I was asking about you or at least about the woman who used to work at the Horse and Hen.”
“Although we do not know for certain that the Purveyor knows of our connection, I will increase our guards, and I can send some to the Black Sheep as well.” His mother reached forward—likely to pat his hand—but she stopped midair.
Pain washed through Eoin as he wished the strain between them could disappear.
But his mother’s misplaced guilt would take time to ebb.
“The Purveyor does realize that you’re Eoin’s mother,” Hannah said definitively. “In fact, the Purveyor knows the secrets of a lot of people, especially high-ranked ones. I suspect that he may even know secrets of the Crown itself.”
“What do you mean?” Lizzie demanded, her hands on her hips as she towered over Hannah. It was clear that she hadn’t forgiven Hannah for misleading Eoin. “Did you really discover something about those notebooks or is this another one of your games?”
Eoin rubbed his thumb against his other fingers and wished that his sister weren’t so dedicated to her role of an avenging Fury. “Hannah would not lie about this. It will do us no good if we attack each other.”
“The Purveyor collects and sells secrets,” Hannah explained. “Those books are his records. It makes sense why they would be in code and why each entry is relatively long.”
“However did you arrive at that conclusion?” Sophia asked.
“When Eoin and I first went to the Horse and Hen, an elderly man stopped us in the street and told us not to chase ‘spirits and secrets.’ I never paid him much heed, especially when we found Championess Quick and Lizzie. But then it struck me. What if the man wasn’t talking about ghosts but about gin?
And if that part was true, maybe the first was accurate too. ”
Despite everything, a swell of pride burst through Eoin at Hannah’s brilliant deductions. She was a clever one, indeed. And unlike him, she didn’t rely on her logic alone, but her feelings as well.
“But secrets could mean so much,” Sophia pressed, obviously not as completely won over by her cousin’s theory as Eoin was.
“True, but spirits turned out to be what the Horse and Hen initially sold, so what if they were selling secrets too? The right type of information could be used to extort great funds.”
“If the rumors about the Aucourtes engaging in illicit activity are true,” Eoin added slowly as his own mind began to process the implications of Hannah’s conjectures, “then perhaps some of that knowledge is treasonous. If the Purveyor knows secrets about the people in power, it makes sense how he could suppress almost all gossip about him.”
“But how could the Purveyor acquire such critical intelligence?” Calliope asked. “It is not precisely an establishment that caters to nobles.”
Mr. Powys snorted. “You do realize that you nobs employ plenty of us commonfolk who are more than willing to sell your precious confidences.”
Hannah nodded. “Not to mention that the Horse and Hen may own the brothels lining the street. Plenty of nobs visit those, and they might stop by and gamble on a bloody fight too.”
“It makes sense that the Purveyor could parlay his original business into the new one. If you can’t pay for gin or if you suffer significant losses during a bet, just pay in secrets,” Eoin added as everything became clearer.
“And ones that could be sold for political reasons would be the most valuable. Imagine what France would pay for intelligence about the Crown.”
“You’re right—even about the treason. There’s always French blokes pretending to be English at the Horse and Hen.
” Peter’s voice was quiet and extremely hesitant, but he spoke audibly enough.
His eyes remained trained downward as he scuffed at the floors with his bare toes, which stuck out from his tattered, too-small shoes.
“Well, the solution is simple,” Lord Percy said. “We alert—well, I suppose I don’t know who we alert—the Royal Guards, perhaps, or maybe the dragoons—and then we have them storm the Horse and Hen tonight.”
“With what proof?” Eoin asked. “All we have are piles of journals that no one can read and vague rumors.”
“Peter can collaborate!” Lord Percy went to touch the boy’s shoulder but immediately stopped when the youth flinched, his blue eyes wide in his pale, pinched face.
“I don’t believe that Peter would feel comfortable talking to soldiers,” Hannah gently pointed out. “And they wouldn’t listen to him either.”
“But we know the Purveyor must be one of Eoin’s uncles.” Lord Percy frowned.
“Unless they just help maintain the books.” Eoin still couldn’t believe that either Hugh or Francis could be the mastermind.
“Peter, would you feel comfortable describing the Purveyor to us?” Hannah asked. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t wish to. We won’t get mad or punish you in any way.”
Peter glanced up at her, then away, and then up again.
Gone was the defiant boy who’d tried to pick Eoin’s pocket.
But Hannah and Eoin had been in Peter’s sphere then, and he’d been following the code that he’d been raised under.
Now he was standing in a literal castle surrounded by ancient wealth and being asked to reveal the identity of a most likely violent man with untold criminal connections.
“Nobody sees him—at least not more than a glimpse or two.” Peter spoke haltingly, yet clearly. “Mr. Jenks is who speaks for him. I saw the Purveyor once or twice, though. He has curly blond hair and blue eyes, and he’s always surrounded by doxies.”
Shock flowed through Eoin. “That description does match either of my uncles.”
“Is that enough proof?” Lord Percy asked as he lifted his heels and then plunked them back down in an eager bounce.
“What would we even report?” Eoin asked. “It sounds too fanciful. My uncles might not be well liked in Society, but I, myself, can hardly believe what we’ve uncovered. I highly doubt I could convince others to take such drastic actions as summoning a small army.”
“Well, then, we just create our own.” Lizzie slammed her fist into her palm. “We have plenty of fighters. If they want to start a riot at the Black Sheep, then we do it at the Horse and Hen first.”
“No,” Hannah and Sophia said immediately.
“Too many people could get hurt,” Sophia said.
“We need a better plan.” Hannah began to pace rapidly around the room. “What we require is proof, and we’ll likely find it in the Horse and Hen.”
“How?” Powys asked. “It is not as if you can simply stroll inside the tavern. It is clear you’ll be recognized.
In fact, any of us will likely be noticed.
This Purveyor must have been gathering a great deal of information about the Black Sheep.
I agree with Miss Quick’s plan. Some of my workers at the Grand would be willing to help storm the building. ”
“I do not want anyone unnecessarily injured either, but a preemptive attack may be the only option. Trying to locate the Purveyor’s den would be nearly impossible in that rabbit warren of connected buildings,” Championess Quick pointed out.
“I couldn’t be your guide. I barely recall the old twisting passages, and I am sure they have been modified during the past twenty years.
Not to mention that any room of interest would likely be locked.
The Purveyor could not have survived this long if he was not a cautious man. ”
“But we have the set of keys that Charlotte found in the trunk. Perhaps they are for the Horse and Hen!” Hannah tore over to the table, where a big cast iron ring lay.
When she lifted it triumphantly into the air, a pleasant jangle filled the room.
Although everyone else seemed skeptical, Eoin couldn’t help but feel a swell of charged energy about Hannah’s plan.
He’d watched as this woman barreled her way through every social strata in order for him to discover his mother and his sister.
She didn’t care about the odds; she just turned them in her favor.
“That only solves one of the issues that my mother listed,” Lizzie said, her feet spread apart as if she were participating in physical rather than verbal sparring. “Almost everyone agrees with my plan.”
“Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks!” Pan cried out after being unusually quiet during the entire conversation. Perhaps castles intimidated the feathered fiend.
“Well, almost everyone but the parrot,” Lizzie corrected, “which shows how bird-witted your scheme is.”
“Pan is extremely intelligent, not to mention very discerning,” Hannah replied haughtily, seeming more perturbed by the criticisms against her pet than herself.
“Although I might not agree with Hannah’s assessment of Pan,” Eoin said slowly, “I don’t believe we’ve heard all the details of what Hannah is plotting.”
At his words, Hannah glanced in his direction, and her green eyes searched his countenance.
She’d been so bold in these last few minutes and exactly like the woman he’d originally met.
But now he saw her hesitancy and her remorse.
His support had surprised her, perhaps even touched her.
But what shocked him was how much she had apparently wanted it and maybe even needed it.
He wasn’t sure where they stood, but he knew one thing. In this, he believed in her.
So he nodded—one short dip of his chin. That was all it took. A confident grin spread over her face, and the doubt in her eyes vanished.
“Is there another part of your plan, Miss Wick?” Eoin’s mother asked.
Hannah’s smile grew even wider. “Most certainly. It all begins with a distraction, and that’s where I will need your help.”