“Go on,” Falcon said, understanding Seamus’s need for intellectual stimulation.
“Several weeks ago, I was a patron at Dante’s alongside Lord Harrington.” Seamus snorted. “If Mister Youngblood was an equal match for me, then Lord Harrington would have been a sitting duck.”
“Meaning?” The duke wanted clarification.
“Meaning . . .” Falcon took over his enlightenment. “Mister Youngblood fleeced the fool and made off with Harrington’s estate.”
“No doubt solicitors were involved in the transfer of property, which would explain why both Harrington and his solicitor have been made conveniently dead.”
“Yes, I sent round a representative of the Foreign Office to interview Lord Harrington’s solicitor just yesterday.”
“Imagine the amount of information flowing through Dante’s.” Seamus glanced from one man to the other. “From blackmail, to drunkenness, to the secrets whispered to attentive whores.”
The duke stared at Falcon, uncomfortable with the infinite and disastrous possibilities.
“I’ll send my men to seize Dante’s Inferno straight away.” Falcon said.
Seamus nodded. “I’ll be in my office looking over my files to see if I can prove my supposition.”
The duke rose, ending the conversation. “And I will speak with the prime minister.”
Chapter Thirty-four
~
It was two o’clock in the afternoon and Dante’s Inferno was empty.
Enigma finished writing a missive to the emperor and then sealed the letter with her symbol of black wax arrows. She tucked the priceless piece of information in her reticule and moved on to other matters.
“Have you transferred the money as I’ve specified, Mister Matthews?”
“Yes, Madame Richard.” Her accountant bobbed his head like a frightened turtle. “Everything was transferred precisely as you instructed.”
“Excellent, Mister Matthews, because it is a great deal of money and if I for one moment believed that you were embezzling—”
“Oh, no, Madame Richard! I would never do such a thing,” her accountant protested, and as she looked into his dull little eyes, she believed him.
“You shall accompany us to Hyde Park, where you will move your luggage to a coach that is traveling to Scotland as previously arranged.” And then she turned to Mister Matthews as if she had just remembered. “You’ve taken care of the other matter, I am sure?”
“Yes.” The man bobbed again, “The profitability of Dante’s Inferno made the business of insuring the establishment rather straightforward. We had several gentlemen, regular patrons of Dante’s, who were more than pleased to provide the protection requested.”
“Excellent work, Mister Matthews.” Enigma smiled brilliantly and the accountant blushed at her attention. “Oh, and tell Mister Collin that I wish to speak with him before we depart.”
Her accountant left and within minutes the satisfying Mister Collin was opening her office door. Smiling, she walked toward him, her hand sliding over his taut buttocks the moment she touched him.
“Are you ready to set up shop elsewhere, darling, or are you still angry with me about Youngblood?” Mister Collin smiled and she allowed him to kiss her, caress her, before she dislodged herself from his arms, saying, “I shall be waiting for you in the carriage when you have finished in here.”
Enigma walked out the front door of Dante’s Inferno for the last time with absolutely no regrets. She had made an enormous amount of money, and with this last exchange of British secrets with the French, she would be able to retire a very rich woman.
But Enigma knew that she would not.
She was addicted to the game of making money off men who underestimated her and of making love to men who did not. It was a perfect life for a woman such as she, but inevitably every game came to an end so that another might begin.
Enigma settled onto the squabs in her landau next to her accountant and opposite her front man, Mister Youngblood.
The three of them waited in silence, staring at Dante’s façade as they waited for Mister Collin. Yet, while the men stared at the front door, Enigma stared at her office window.
The vermillion curtains fluttered, licked by orange flames that Mister Collin had unleashed. She smiled and the front door of the most successful hell in London opened and her obedient bodyguard walked out to join her.
Jack Collin settled into the crowded carriage next to the pretty Mister Youngblood and then banged on the roof, shouting, “Hyde Park.”
They ambled forward, and as Enigma smiled across at Mister Youngblood, they could hear distant shouts of “Fire!” but it would not matter.
The fire would consume Dante’s along with half the buildings on their street, and there was not a damn thing anyone could do to stop it.
“Well, now that we are all together, I suppose it would be best to review our plan.” They made their way to Hyde Park and she continued to talk to her faithful servants. “Mister Matthews has made the financial arrangements for our relocation and will be traveling to Scotland, where he will wait three days before boarding our ship.”
“Yes, Madame Richard,” the accountant said, to indicate that he understood her instructions clearly.
The carriage turned into the park then stopped in a wooded area as they waited for Mister Matthews’s conveyance to arrive.
“The only difficulty I see in the entire plan, Mister Matthews . . .” She turned to look at her gifted accountant. “Is the large amount of money that has been stolen from me.” The little accountant went white when Mister Collin pulled out his knife and stared down at him.
“No!”
“I really don’t like being robbed, Mister Matthews.” Enigma nodded to Mister Collin. “And I won’t tolerate embezzlement,” she said as her bodyguard reached out and stabbed Mister Youngblood on the left side, smiling all the while.
Her accountant started to swoon as he stared at the dead man seated across from her.
“Listen to me, Mister Matthews,” she cooed, keeping him conscious. “You are an important facet of my trade and I very much value your contribution.” Enigma smiled. “So, from this moment forth, I would like for you to increase your wages by one pound per week.”
Her accountant stared at Mister Youngblood’s corpse and then at the man who had killed him. “That is very . . . generous of you, Madame Richard.”
“Oh, you have earned every penny of the increase, Mister Matthews.” She looked at her bodyguard for confirmation. “Hasn’t he, Mister Collin.”
“Yes,” Jack Collin begrudgingly agreed as he stared out the window.
The second carriage arrived and Mister Matthews bolted for the door, but Enigma stopped him.
“Now don’t forget to wait three days before meeting us on board our ship.” Her accountant nodded, stepping to the ground. “And Mister Matthews, if you disappoint me . . .” Her indigo eyes were cold and then warmth returned to them. “Oh, but you won’t, will you, Edgar.”
“I would never think of disappointing you, Madame Richard.” Her accountant bowed, terrified. “Three days?”
Enigma smiled. “Three days.” Mister Collin closed the landau door.
“He’ll be there,” Mister Collin concluded, wiping the blood from his large knife.
“I know,” she said and then moved on to her next task. “What time is it?”
“Half past three.”
Enigma sighed, “What are we going to do for half a bloody hour?”
Her bodyguard smiled and she laughed. “You are not sincerely proposing that we rut in the same conveyance as Mister Youngblood’s corpse?”
His eyes were hot, making her burn. “I couldn’t think of a better use of a half hour.”
Enigma looked him up and down and began to unbutton her pelisse, saying, “You’re a vindictive bastard aren’t you, Jack?”
“Yes, but nowhere near as vindictive as you,” he said with admiration clinging to every word and ever
y touch.
≈
Seamus hurried back to the Foreign Office in the hopes of catching his secretary James Habernathy before the man left for the evening.
“James?” Seamus called, opening the door, but the office was empty.
Seamus gave a groan of disappointment as he moved quickly toward his desk. He pulled out all of the E code files and was beginning to sort them out, to see if he could prove the arrogant Mister Youngblood’s involvement, when he found himself in need of a pencil.
He searched his desk drawer and, finding nothing, glanced at Juliet’s smaller desk. The desk would be moved out tomorrow and he would not have to endure the pain of losing her every time he walked into the room.
But for now it was there and Seamus was sure she had a multitude of pencils tucked away in one of her tiny drawers. He rose then forced himself to walk to her side of the office, the signs of Juliet’s unforgettable presence still lingering in the room, lingering in his heart.
He pushed away his pain as he continued to search and then something caught his eye. He lifted the newspaper and saw Juliet’s hasty handwriting, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
She had found something, had scribbled away at the letters of the description of the spring gown until Seamus had no notion what was left. He reread the description, trying to think as Juliet did, trying to match that brilliant mind of hers.
But as he worked and failed to crack the code, he thought of the E cryptographer . . . order and control. He tried again and failed. Seamus was beginning to panic when he thought of the reason why Juliet would come to the Foreign Office. She was trying to catch the cryptographer on her own because he had given her no one to work with.
He tried again, putting himself in Juliet’s mathematical mind. Numbers. He began to count. One, three . . . Order and control. Five—
Seamus rose alongside his fear as he counted to ten and found the words.
Meets . . . by . . . Serpentine . . . heads . . . for . . . first . . .
Today was February first. He had to assume that the meeting was taking place today and that Juliet was going to attend. That she was going to place herself in harm’s way. Panicked, he yanked his watch from his waistcoat, breaking the golden fob. Five minutes to four o’clock.
“God, no.” Seamus dropped the advertisement and ran to the stables.
His horse was just being unsaddled when Seamus stopped the man and took the reins. He jumped atop his mount and sent him flying toward the park, toward Juliet.
Seamus tried to concentrate on the roads, the fastest method of getting to the Serpentine, but all he could think about was Juliet. If something were to happen to her . . . He could not envision life without her, could not bear the thought of returning to the loneliness and isolation of not being understood.
But it was not just her mind or her humor. It was her face, her delightful freckled nose, those beautiful blue eyes, her mouth. His chest tightened as he remembered kissing that mouth, remembered the experience of making love to Juliet, the experience of being in love with Juliet Pervill.
He was in love with her, and if anything were to happen to his Juliet—
A bell tower chimed, announcing the four o’clock hour. Seamus’s chest was pounding as hard as his horse’s hooves, but he knew it was not from his ride. He was becoming enveloped by dark thoughts of losing her.
For if Juliet died, Seamus knew that he would never again live.
Chapter Thirty-five
~
As Juliet stood in Hyde Park with Mister Habernathy by her side, she tried to ignore her growing sense of anticipation. She had come to the park to catch her cryptographer, to prove to Seamus and his lordship that she very much deserved her place within the Foreign Office.
“Let us sit on this bench,” Juliet whispered to her loyal friend. “It will give us a perfect view of the Serpentine.”
“Yes,” Mister Habernathy agreed and they sat down. “I’ve instructed your driver to be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice.”
“Thank you, Mister Habernathy,” Juliet said, turning to meet the man’s kind eyes. “Thank you for coming with me rather than going to his lordship.”
“Lady Juliet.” Mister Habernathy grinned. “I would not miss your besting Mister McCurren for all the world, and besides, his lordship ordered me to keep an eye on you.”
“Did he really?” she asked, stunned.
“Weeks ago. But with Mister McCurren’s footmen at your side there has been no need.”
Juliet chuckled and then glanced at her pocket watch. “Four o’clock.” She stared at the head of the Serpentine and then heard an insistent quack.
Juliet looked down at a pretty little duck that was looking back at her. The duck had quacked, thinking she was a source of food, and then other ducks began to gather at her skirts. The first duck quacked again, becoming less adorable by the minute, and Juliet thrust her hand out, saying, “Shoo,” then gazed back at the bridge over the Serpentine, which remained blessedly deserted.
Then there arose a chorus of quacks and Juliet looked down at the seven ducks that had abandoned the water in favor of her provision. Several heads turned in her direction and Juliet cringed.
“I’ll attend to them.” Mister Habernathy stood, shooing the ducks away, but they parted for him like the Red Sea then ran back to their provider.
Juliet sighed. “There is nothing for it, Mister Habernathy. Animals have always thought me one of their kind.”
She reached down to dig up a handful of dirt and then walked to the long water, a half-dozen ducks in tow. Juliet cast the cold clumps of earth out over the pond and the greedy little ducks went swimming after them.
Dusting off her soiled gloves, she glanced at the Serpentine when a pleasant voice asked from behind, “Feeding the water fowl, Lady Juliet, wasn’t it?”
Juliet turned to look at a beautiful blond woman, and it took several moments for her to realize with whom she was speaking. “I met you at Madame Maria’s?”
“That’s it exactly.” The woman smiled. “Did you find the gown you were hoping to purchase?”
“Uh.” Juliet glanced over her shoulder at the Serpentine, distracted, and then turned back to the woman. What was her name? “No, I’m afraid not.”
“Well,” the stunning woman said, about to impart her wisdom when Juliet saw a large man walking toward them over the woman’s right shoulder. “Perhaps you can describe the gown to Madame Maria and she can create something even more becoming.”
“Yes,” Juliet murmured, but her eyes grew wide when the large man passed them, a nasty scar marring the left side of his face. A face she had seen in the office of the London Herald just three days prior to the E code appearing in that very publication. “That is an excellent suggestion. Now, if you will excuse me, I’m afraid we are expected elsewhere.”
Mister Habernathy bowed and the lady inclined her head, “I look forward to seeing you very soon, Lady Juliet.”
“Me also,” Juliet said, taking James’s arm and slowly following their man.
Got you!
The man with the scar stopped by the Serpentine bridge and then greeted an older and much smaller man. The pair appeared, to anyone but herself, to be old friends having unexpectedly crossed paths in the park.
But she knew better.
“That’s him, the one with the scar. I’ve seen him before at the Herald,” she whispered to Mister Habernathy, who watched as the smaller man gave the taller a parcel before receiving a missive in return. “Follow the cryptographer. We must stop the supply of information. The Frenchman is of less importance.”
“Right.” Mister Habernathy deferred to her logic and they turned to the left, increasing their pace.
The man with the scar walked deeper into the park and Juliet began to fear that they would not be able to follow him without detection. She was just formulating a secondary plan when they rounded a bend in the trail and caught sight of the cryptographer’s conveyance
.
“Run back to the carriage and have my driver cut through the park just there,” she ordered James while keeping a watchful eye on the cryptographer. “I’ll observe which direction his landau is heading, and with any luck, we can catch sight of him before he exits the park.”
“I don’t think—”
“I can’t run in this gown, James.” Juliet met her secretary’s eye. “Either you do it or we lose the cryptographer altogether.”
James nodded and began running back toward Juliet’s carriage. He was no more than fifty yards away when Juliet heard a pistol cock behind her back.
“Would you be so kind as to join me, Lady Juliet?”
Her brows furrowed as she turned toward the beautiful woman from Madame Maria’s. Realization struck. Only a woman would have thought to use a lady’s advertisement to send her code.
“You.”
The woman smiled, watching as she put two and two together. “Yes.”
Juliet’s mouth opened to call for James, but he was already on his way back, fear in his eyes.
“Move,” the lady said and Juliet had no choice but to walk toward the woman’s conveyance.
However, as they neared the door of the landau, Juliet looked over her shoulder in confusion as the lady seemed totally unconcerned by James Habernathy’s dogged pursuit. He was no more than twenty feet from her when the man with the scar stepped out from behind a tree.
Time stopped and Juliet ran toward James, but it was too late. The man stabbed James in the stomach, and all she could do was stand there and watch. James fell to his knees, his rapid puffs of breath visible in the cold winter air. Juliet continued to run toward him, but the man with the scar scooped her up on his way to the lady’s conveyance.
He threw Juliet inside the landau. The woman from Madame Maria’s was already seated as he closed the door. Juliet glanced out the window, tears streaming down her face as she watched James collapse, the puffs of breath that affirmed his life now gone.
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