Chapter 28
As promised, the second note arrived just before dawn.
Though as Wrexford suspected, the messenger was merely a terrified urchin with not a clue as to who had sent him.
The poor lad had been plucked from sorting through garbage in an alleyway and ordered to deliver the missive immediately—and told that if he failed, the devil would find him and eat his heart for breakfast.
“The mastermind is a monster,” huffed Alison, who was the last to arrive at the hastily arranged council of war.
Henning, who had shuffled in shortly before her, mumbled his agreement through a mouthful of sultana muffin.
“That goes without saying,” said Wrexford as he gazed around at the worried faces ringing the breakfast table. “But we’ve met monsters before and have flung their sorry carcasses back into the deepest pit of Hell.”
He rarely resorted to hyperbole, but fear felt like a palpable presence in the room, and he wished to spark a flare of hope. “We will do the same with this miscreant.”
“That goes without saying,” responded Raven. He had taken a seat next to Cordelia and inched his chair closer so he could reach out and take hold of her hand.
She managed a brave nod, though the telltale quiver of her lips betrayed the terror roiling inside her.
The earl felt his own innards clench. He couldn’t imagine his world without Sheffield’s sunny smile and self-deprecating humor.
In the times of his greatest vulnerability, when his penchant for brooding threatened to overwhelm him, his friend’s unwavering support and needling laughter had been the beacon of light that kept him from sinking into utter blackness.
“So what is the miscreant demanding you do in order for Sheffield to be released?” asked Henning.
“To turn over Archie Campbell’s son, along with all the plans and formulas for making siderographic plates, as well as the special press to print them,” answered Wrexford.
“Does the monster know that Mr. Perkins is in London?” asked the dowager.
“I don’t believe so, otherwise he would simply have demanded him and his machinery,” said the earl.
“MacArthur is quite sure that he was followed from Bristol, where his ship from America docked. But he managed to lose the stalker in Bath. And as Perkins had been warned that someone in England had spies watching his movements, he took pains to slip away from Boston unnoticed,” explained the earl.
After a glance at Cordelia, he hurriedly finished his summary.
“I think the mastermind is getting panicked. His plan was to nab MacArthur and force him to reveal the secrets of siderography that Perkins discovered. No doubt he thought that doing so would allow him and his minions to easily win the Inimitable Banknote Competition, garnering not only the large monetary prize but also an extremely lucrative contract from the Bank of England for printing the banknotes.”
“And no doubt to print up batches of free money for himself and his conspirators on the sly as well,” muttered Henning.
“The deadline for entries is looming,” intoned Charlotte. “The mastermind is not only panicked but desperate. He’s clearly been choreographing all this very carefully, and such planning likely required a good deal of money—paying his conspirators and spies, bribing informants.”
“In other words, he can’t afford to fail,” whispered Cordelia. She looked away, trying to hide the tears pearled on her lashes. “I …”
A muffled sob. “The thought that Kit might not live to see …” Squeezing her eyes shut, she tugged her hand free from Raven’s hold and covered her face with both palms.
“Take heart, my dear, dear friend—he will see you again,” assured Charlotte after darting a helpless look at Wrexford.
“It’s not just me I’m thinking about,” stammered Cordelia.
Wrexford shoved his hands into his coat pockets to keep from turning and smashing a fist against the wall in frustrated rage and fear. “Are you saying that …”
A nod. “I-I’m with child.”
Though his mind was still reeling from the emotional revelation, the earl felt himself impelled forward by a quicksilver force that he couldn’t begin to identify. Taking hold of Cordelia’s chair, he shifted it and knelt down in front of her.
The room had gone silent as a crypt.
“We are going to find Kit and bring him safely home,” he announced. “That is an unequivocal statement, not merely a promise.”
“Oiy!” affirmed Raven without hesitation. “Of course we are! And then we’re going to kick the devil’s arse straight back to Hell.”
The other three Weasels echoed his cry, and suddenly the room was reverberating with the thrum of voices raised in loyalty and love.
Cordelia managed a smile through her tears. “Well then, it appears the devil doesn’t stand a chance.”
“Not by a long shot,” vowed the dowager, rapping her cane on the floor to punctuate her words.
Despite the early hour, Henning took a flask from his pocket. “So, Wrex, now that we’ve cocked a snoot at the villains …”
He raised a salute to the room before taking a draught of Scottish malt. “I take it you have a plan.”