The Emperor's Conspiracy (10 page)

Peter hunched his shoulder. “May have heard ’im braggin’.”

“Did you hear names?” She wondered if this line of questioning was even useful. No one would admit to any abuse of this sort, for any reason. Frethers knew it. He must have no self-control if he was not only fishing in the pond of the socially connected, but bragging about it, as well.

But Peter shook his head. “No names. He’s not a complete bufflehead.”

She felt around for her money bag and held it out to him, and he took it with a practiced hand. He dipped his fingers in and brought out a coin, tilted it to the window, to see it in the weak light. Gave a nod. “Nice doing business with ya.” His eyes flicked around the interior of the coach. “I know how you must ’ave got this, and ’tis people like you give the rest of us hope.” His words did not relay disrespect or even insinuation. He thought he was speaking one professional to another.

“It could have happened that way,” she said. “But I did not come by my current situation by anything I had to do on my back.” She did not look at Gary but could sense his disapproval at her openness. “I was saved from the street by kindness and have had to do nothing to keep it but be myself.”

He looked at her, as if trying to detect some joke or a lie. And when he looked away, she had the feeling he was angry with her. “Then I take it back. You’re a hope-killer. ’Cause at least if you’d done it on your back, that’s something we c’n understand. Something we c’n do ourselves. But kindness? Luck like that—it’s a million-to-one chance, and you already took the one chance going.”

She did not dispute it. She agreed.

Gary opened the door and hopped out, and Charlotte saw him look to the right and gawp, his eyes wide.

She held out a hand to stop Peter clambering after him and he froze as she touched his shoulder.

A figure stepped into the doorway, crowding Gary, who had not moved away, but hadn’t said a word, either.

It was Luke.

“Peter, me lad.” He looked between them, and Charlotte felt Peter tense.

“What are you doing here?” She hadn’t realized how angry she was until she spoke. Her hand trembled as she pulled it back. This was too many betrayals. Kit must have told him where they’d be, Smithy had let him come up on them without warning, and Gary … So far, Gary had been nothing but loyal, but the way Luke approached, it was clear he had no fear Gary would stop him.

Luke must have heard the deep hurt, because he stepped back. As he did, Peter leaped out, eel-quick, but just as fast Luke clamped a hand on his arm, jerked him close, so his mouth was right beside Peter’s ear.

“Mum’s the word, eh?” Luke’s voice was pleasant enough, but Peter did not turn his head, or even nod in agreement. “The lady isn’t looking for Cherub no more. You can take the money, but nothing’ll come of it. And if I hear even a peep …” He didn’t continue, let the silence stretch out, and finally released his hold. Peter jerked away and began to walk into the darkness, eyes down, hand clasping the money bag in his hand. He did not say goodbye.

“What was that?” Charlotte leaned out of the door, into Luke’s face. “What are you doing, interfering in my business? And why do you keep asking my friends to betray me?”

“They ain’t your friends no more, Charlie.” Luke flicked a
look up at Smithy, across to Gary, and finally back to her. “They’re your employees, and as such, subject to bribes and offers, just like any others.”

“Fine.” She felt frozen, the cold reaching its hoary hand deep into her core. “How would you like it if I approached
your
employees, got them to act against you or spy on you for money or for favors owed?”

He cocked his head, considering. Said nothing.

“You wouldn’t stand for it. And even though I could do it, I have never stooped that low.”

“Well, there you have the difference between us.” Luke smiled. “When it comes to you, there are no depths to which I wouldn’t stoop.”

There was nothing to say to that. Nowhere to go from this conversation. She felt the rift between them rip a little more. Soon only a thread or two would remain.

She sank back into her seat, drained and tired. “And warning Peter off? Saying I’ll do nothing against Frethers? What’s that about?”

“I’m afraid I didn’t realize it were Frethers you were talking about, t’other night. You can’t go after him. ’Twould mess up my plans.”

She frowned, and he swung into the carriage with her, and after a moment’s hesitation, Gary closed the doors on them.

“What plans?” She curled tighter into her corner, away from him. Felt him reach out and take hold of her cloak. Tug it a little as he fingered the corner.

“I have a little deal going with Frethers and his lot. Anything you’ve got in mind, love, will have to be put aside.”

Charlotte jerked her cloak from his grasp and glared at him in the darkness of the carriage as it began to rattle its way back home.

“I’m not one of your
employees
.” She spoke quietly. “This has weighed on my conscience too long, and I’m not putting it aside for some chisel you have going.” She watched him, but he said nothing, showed nothing on his face. She sighed. “I’m going ahead, Luke. And nothing is going to stop me.”

13

“T
wo of your men are dead?” Dervish dropped the papers in his hands, letting them flutter across his immaculate desk, and leaned back in his chair, his full attention on Edward’s face.

“So I’m told. And they cannot be found, so I assume I’ve been told the truth.”

Dervish tapped a finger to his mouth, absolutely silent, and eventually Edward decided to sit in the chair he had originally declined.

“Do you know who killed them?”

Edward hesitated. Thought of Charlotte, standing by the window, defiant in her refusal to point a finger. “I have an idea.”

Dervish raised a brow, waiting.

Edward returned his stare. Dervish was someone he trusted, but he wasn’t ready to trust him with anything that could harm Charlotte.

He realized, suddenly, that he was going to lie. Keep all mention of Charlotte’s name out of this and let Dervish think his men were killed while conducting genuine government business.

It jolted him.

“A local crime boss. He didn’t like my men on his patch.”

Dervish frowned. “The rookery lords don’t usually get mixed up with our lot. I always like to think they’re loyal Englishmen, in their way.”

Edward lifted his hands. “The smugglers on the coast should be loyal Englishmen, too, but clearly they are not.”

“This is serious, Durnham.” Dervish stood abruptly. “Very serious.”

“Two men have died. I’m taking it very seriously, I assure you.” Edward stood as well, and gripped the back of his chair.

“What area is this crime lord’s patch?”

Edward considered lying again, but he saw no reason to shield Charlotte’s Luke. “Tothill Road. Right next to the finest homes in all of London.”

“Say again?” The way Dervish went still, the sudden fear in his voice, set a bell ringing in Edward’s skull.

“The top dog in the Tothill Road rookery sees Mayfair as his personal patch. He took exception to my men’s questions.”

“I see.” Dervish sat down abruptly, and his hands shook as he gathered his papers together.

Edward forced himself not to frown. “What is it?”

“Nothing. It’s just terrible news to hear that two men are
dead.” Dervish was sweating. Edward could see the glisten of moisture on his upper lip and on his forehead.

What would make him so afraid? The thought of men from his department asking questions around and about Mayfair and the West End? Usually, Dervish wouldn’t care whose nose was out of joint in an investigation. Unless …

Bribery? Blackmail? Edward couldn’t think of another reason for this reaction. If Dervish knew who was involved in the mess he’d dragged Edward into to sort out, wanted Edward to keep away from them … Edward tightened his hold on the chair, and saw his knuckles were white.

Dervish lifted his eyes from his desk. “You never told me you were taking the hunt to the homes of the ton.” His voice was back under control, but the damage had been done.

“You were the one who inspired the idea.” Edward tipped the chair forward, then back, watching Dervish carefully.

“I did?” Dervish tried to smile.

“Yes, your mention of attending balls the other night, because the men involved in this are right at the top of the social ladder. Of course, you were right. Now we have to decide whether my men were killed because they were asking questions someone didn’t like, or because they were infringing on the territory of a rabid dog.”

“They take respect very seriously in the rookeries. If your men showed disrespect or were too dismissive—that may have been enough.”

Edward shrugged. “Perhaps. But as you say, some of the men involved in this plot must be noblemen. If they caught wind of
my men’s questions, they could well have paid this thug to get rid of them. That would have been a neat solution.”

The lies tripped off his tongue, and he felt no regret now in speaking them. Luke had killed his men because of their interest in Charlotte, but Dervish would never discover that. Just how nervous would Dervish get if he thought Edward was getting too close?

Dervish closed his eyes for a moment, his face suddenly haggard.

Blackmail, Edward decided. If it were bribery, he’d look guilty, perhaps. As it was, he looked genuinely stricken.

“Customs caught another boat full of gold a few days ago. I just heard the news this morning. Twenty thousand guineas found on it. Twenty thousand! Hidden in the cabin ceiling, in hollowed-out pigs of iron ballast. The smack was too low on the water; that’s how they caught them.” Without opening his eyes, Dervish rubbed at his temples. “They think for every boat they find, at least ten are slipping past them. Ten.” He lifted his head and snapped open his eyes, and they looked wild.

“So we really are hemorrhaging gold?”

Dervish nodded. “And I don’t know why, dammit. Yes, they can get more for the gold in Europe than they can here, but it’s a punishable crime taking guineas out the country as it is, so they risk jail, not to mention taking it through France while we’re at war with that country, and the bribes they’d have to pay, the risk of having it confiscated or stolen …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“It’s worse than that.” Edward thought of the facts and figures
lying on his desk, of all the information he’d gathered already. “But I haven’t worked it all out just yet.” And he wouldn’t be telling Dervish when he did.

Dervish pinched the bridge of his nose. “Edward, I …” He gave himself a shake. “Nothing. Just, be careful. Keep your focus on finding who in England’s behind this gold smuggling. Don’t take on this man from the rookeries.”

Edward gave Dervish a nod of farewell. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. The Tothill Road man has already decided to take on me.”

The look of horror on Dervish’s face as he walked out gave him no satisfaction at all.

S
omeone was watching them. Charlotte sensed it. She’d spent too long in the rookeries not to trust the prick between her shoulder blades.

She turned, casually, as if to keep track of the Holliday boys running with their hoops and sticks across the lush grass of the park, lifting her hand to shield her eyes.

She saw nothing but the fine houses of their little square, and the trees and bushes that surrounded the small park in the center of it.

“What is it?” Emma asked, and as Charlotte swung back to her, she saw her face was tight with worry, her eyes never leaving the boys.

“I think we’re being watched.” She would not lie to her friend.

Emma jerked her gaze to Charlotte’s face. “You saw someone?”

Charlotte shook her head. “Just a feeling. But my feelings are usually right.”

“A touch of the gypsy?” Emma frowned.

“A touch of the rookeries. Brings out your senses.” She spun again, slowly and carefully. “You don’t learn to trust what your body tells you, you’re dead.”

“Yet you never gave it up.” Emma lifted a hand to her own eyes.

“It wasn’t so much I didn’t give it up as I couldn’t.” Charlotte went still, her eye catching something, but she smoothly turned her head to Emma. “It clung to me.” She gave a laugh. “Like the dust from the chimneys used to do.”