The remainder of lunch was punctuated with sighs and awkward spurts of bland conversation while Gina felt as if she might jump out of her skin. The future her mother had mapped out for her was never one she would have chosen. One, in fact, she found abhorrent and, in its own way, terrifying. But given her circumstances, and if she could not find the answers she sought, it would be the only course open to her.
She wouldn’t give up yet, though. She still had ten days and she would make the most of them. Regardless of Mr. Renquist and the Home Office, she would just have to take matters into her own hands.
Her mother excused herself, declaring that she was quite fatigued and needed a nap. The table fell silent until they heard a door close somewhere above them.
“Gina, did you know what she planned?” Lilly asked.
She shook her head, still a bit stunned.
“We must find some way to divert her,” Bella mumbled.
“It is hopeless, and you know it. When Mama has made up her mind, nothing can change it. Nothing will do but that she have her way.”
“But you have not…”
“Escaped?” Gina smiled and looked down at her plate, largely untouched. “Perhaps I could learn to bear that, but I cannot resign myself to the thought that Mr. Henley will not pay for what he has done. That is the one task I cannot leave undone.”
Bella’s eyes darkened as she sat forward. “I’ve seen that look before. What are you planning, Gina?”
“I hardly know. I have made some headway amongst the ton, but progress is slow. I am to meet with Mr. Renquist tomorrow for his report. And…” she hesitated, reluctant to tell them about the little key “…and there has to be more I can do. Other ways to learn what I need.”
Lilly dropped her napkin on her plate and glanced over her shoulder before lowering her voice to a whisper. “If you are game, Gina, I may have an idea. There were some street urchins—lads, Devlin called them—who helped find the evidence against the Brotherhood. They are quite engaging little pickpockets and, for a few coins, they could discover anything.”
“I vow I am not going to turn any source away.”
Lilly nodded and stood, determination in her voice. “I know just where to find them on a Sunday afternoon. Bella, you stay here and if the men return, tell them Gina and I have gone for a stroll through the park and shall be back presently. Gina, fetch your bonnet and shawl.”
Gina glanced around the square at Covent Garden, almost as busy as Hyde Park on a summer afternoon, unable to shake the feeling that she was being watched. “How will we ever find them?” she asked Lilly.
“Just dangle your reticule from your wrist and they will come along. Walk slowly and smile as if you have nothing more on your mind than meeting friends. Ned will find us.”
“What will your husband say?”
Lilly laughed. “He would likely ask how much we paid them, and then tell me it was too much.”
“He will not be angry?”
“Not in the least. But I do not intend to tell him.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not know if I can trust him not to tell Andrew or Jamie. Am I correct in thinking you would not want them to know?”
Gina grinned. “Oh, yes. Andrew would take his duty as my closest male relative to heart and forbid me to do more than drink tea and embroider. I thought Devlin might be the same.”
Lilly’s eyes twinkled. “Devlin is far too protective, but he admires women who can think for themselves. Still, he would not want you to endanger yourself. Ah, but how can hiring a few lads endanger you? No, I think we are safe in this.”
Gina was not nearly as worried about what Andrew or Devlin would do as she was about another man. “M-most importantly, I do not want James Hunter to know. He told me last night that, if he had his way, I would return to Belfast at once.”
Lilly’s eyebrows shot up. “No! He would not be so un gentlemanly.”
“He was not in a gentlemanly mood. I am afraid he knows I am looking for Mr. Henley. And I might have suggested that I could hardly do worse than the Home Office.”
“Oh, my!” Lilly did her best to contain her laughter. “I can imagine how he took that. Whatever possessed you to make that charge?”
“I cannot recall. Our conversations tend to deteriorate after a moment or two. It would be best if we simply avoided one another as much as possible, but he has decided to take my safety upon himself. Quite aggravating.”
“I wish you luck, Gina. Knowing the Hunter men, you will need it.”
Gina felt a tug on her arm and turned in time to see a ragged child trying to cut her purse strings. “Here now!”
Lilly peered around her. “Let loose, Ned.”
“Mrs. Lilly! This a friend of yers?”
“My sister.”
The lad released his hold on Gina’s reticule, removed his cap and swept an exaggerated bow. “At yer service, Miss Sister.”
“Miss Eugenia,” Lilly corrected. “And we were looking for you, Ned, and some of your mates.”
“Got a job fer us, Mrs. Lilly?”
“Indeed we have. But I shall let my sister tell you what she needs. Whatever she pays you, Ned, I shall double it if you deliver.”
The boy grinned ear to ear. “You know I will, missus.” He turned to Gina. “What do y’ need, Miss Eugenia?”
“The location of a man named Cyril Henley.”
“Gor! ’E’s the one we looked fer before, missus.”
“He escaped the net we cast, Ned. But his mates were brought in. He’s the last of them.”
Ned nodded. “I already knowed he got away, missus. I spotted ’im a couple days ago and told Mr. Farrell. ’E’s lookin’ for the gent, but I didn’t know anyone else was lookin’ fer him, too.”
Gina held her breath. “Do you know where he is?”
“’E lost me, Miss Eugenia. Never knowed a gent so slippery. I recognized ’im from last time, but ’e got away before I could follow ’im back to ’is ’ole. Can I work fer both of ye?”
“I do not object to Mr. Farrell having the information, Ned, but he must not know I have hired you, too.”
Ned seemed to consider this for a moment. “Well, since ye ain’t askin’ me to keep information from ’im, I s’pose there’s no ’arm. Mum’s the word, miss.”
Ignorant of what a pickpocket would charge for such a service, she withdrew a crown from her reticule and pressed it into the grubby hand. “And another when you bring me the information.”
The lad looked down at his palm and grinned. “Aye, miss. An’ where’ll I find ye?”
“You mustn’t come to my home. I shall meet you daily at St. Mary’s.”
Ned glanced at the church on one side of the square and nodded. “Noon too early fer ye?”
“Not in the least.”
He tipped his worn cap and gave an awkward bow. “Don’t ye worry, miss. We know the warrens like nobody else. We’ll ’ave yer gent soon enough. Oh, an’ did ye know ye was bein’ followed?”
A deep cold invaded her vitals. She scanned the crowd, looking for some sign of someone watching, but nothing appeared amiss. No one betrayed the least interest in her or her sister. Could Ned be wrong?
Chapter Seven
Jamie sipped his wine and allowed the conversation to drift over him as he watched the ladies across the drawing room. Earlier at the dinner table, sitting opposite Miss Eugenia had been a sweet agony of yearning. Each time she brought a spoon to those luscious lips, he remembered how they’d tasted, how they’d felted crushed beneath his own. Though it pained him to admit his own lack of self-control, he knew he’d do it again, given half a chance. And knew, too, that kiss had been the biggest mistake he’d ever made. He’d have been better to imagine it than experience it and yearn for it the rest of his life.
The ladies laughed at something Bella said, and then Miss Eugenia glanced in his direction. Their eyes met for a moment and he held back a groan. He wanted her in a way he’d never wanted any
other woman, and with an intensity that left him breathless.
Upon reflection, he realized it was true—what Charlie had said. He had spent his adult life avoiding serious entanglements. He had gone so far as to shun the company of women who would expect more of him. But Miss Eugenia…no, she would be no different. Even as he watched her now, her hand went to her throat, and he knew she was remembering that night. He was a reminder of all she had suffered, of her pain and humiliation. There could never be a future with her.
Ah, but there was the next week or so, until she was whisked back to Ireland. And, torture though it would be, he would avail himself of every opportunity to be near her until then.
“…Cox.”
Jamie returned his attention to his own conversation at the mention of that name. “Cox?”
Charlie grinned, as if he knew where Jamie’s mind had been. “Were you not paying attention, Jamie? Devlin just told us that his stableman, old Cox, is dead.”
“Dead?” Jamie frowned. “Accident?”
“Murder. We found him in a stall. He’d been covered over with hay, but the smell gave him away.”
Jamie studied Devlin’s face. Had Devlin avenged the attempt on Jamie’s life? As usual, Devlin was inscrutable. “Coincidence? Or do you think it had something to do with the other night?”
Devlin’s lips twitched, as if he might smile. “It wasn’t me, if that’s what you’re thinking, Hunter. Were I a betting man, I’d wager he was silenced for whatever role he played in that debacle. If he had been paid to help an assassin, it wasn’t by me. He’d been carved up like a Christmas goose. It wasn’t pretty.”
Knife, not a pistol? A pistol was more likely to be a hired killer, but a knife was more…personal. More familiar. Henley was quite proficient with a dagger. But then so were the Gibbons brothers.
He glanced back at Miss Eugenia and a vision of her suffering Cox’s fate chilled him to the bone. She could identify Henley. She could testify against him. Would she be next? Or would he?
Damnation! She had refused to stay safe at home, and he could not let her wander through society indifferent to the danger to her. No simple mooning after her would do. He would have to dog her every footstep. He would have to play the role of her most ardent suitor to keep her close. He would not let her die as Cox had.
It was time to pay the Gibbons brothers a visit. Gina would be safe enough tonight, since Mrs. O’Rourke forbade her girls from entertainments on Sunday nights.
The Gibbons brothers did not have a known address. When Devlin wanted to see them, he merely put the word out and, sooner or later, the brothers turned up at the Crown and Bear. Considering what Jamie suspected, they were not likely to respond this time.
Luckily, he had learned they were known to frequent a flea-infested gin house off Petticoat Lane by the name of the Cat’s Paw. He elbowed the door open and eased in, giving his eyes a moment to adjust to the gloom. The odor of unwashed bodies and years of spilled ale and gin was noxious. Behind him, Charlie coughed to cover his disgust and they moved to a section of the bar nearest the door.
“What the bloody hell are we going to order?” Charlie muttered under his breath.
Jamie shook his head. The gin would strike them blind and the ale was likely the poorest to be had and diluted with filthy rain water. The tavern keeper, a man with one good eye and another that wandered, asked, “What’ll it be, gents?”
“Bottle of whiskey,” Jamie said. “Bring it unopened.”
He noted they were drawing attention and was undecided if that was good or bad. The Cat’s Paw did not attract men of Hunter’s ilk, but most of the bully boys in the place would think twice before assaulting a gent in public. Once he and Charlie departed and entered a darkened street, however…
When the tavern keeper brought the whiskey, Jamie held it to the light. It was sealed and looked clear, not cloudy with the foul water hereabouts. He nodded at the tavern keeper, who opened the bottle and handed it to him. Jamie raised an eyebrow, took a swig and winced as the cheap rotgut burned a path down his throat. He passed the bottle to Charlie, who did the same.
Jamie tossed the tavern keeper a few coins and waved the unwashed tin cups away.
Charlie grinned as the tavern keeper turned to attend other customers. “I wondered what we could possibly order in here that wouldn’t poison us.”
“We’ll see how big our heads are in the morning.”
A tall figure emerged from the shadows at the back of the room. A shorter figure followed on his heels. They approached Jamie cautiously.
“I knows you,” the taller man said. “One o’ Farrell’s friends, ain’t ye?”
“Hunter’s the name.” Jamie inclined his head toward Charlie. “And this is my brother, Charlie.”
“You th’ gents askin’ fer us?”
“Aye.” He grabbed the whiskey bottle around the neck. “We want a private talk.”
Richard “Dick” Gibbons, the taller and older of the brothers, led the way to a table in a far corner. He and his silent brother, Artie, sat against the wall, leaving Jamie and Charlie to sit with their backs to the room—a dangerous position in this sort of place. Jamie tilted his chair to one side, facing the room, and Charlie did the same, forming a rough semicircle. Artie grinned at their ploy.
Dick Gibbons held out his tin cup and Jamie obliged by pouring a measure of whiskey into it, then did the same with Artie’s cup.
“You remember what we wanted last time?” Jamie asked.
Dick nodded.
“I want it again.”
The eldest Gibbons’s grin made Jamie wary, and he suspected that Henley might have escaped the authorities a few weeks ago because the Gibbons brothers had warned him off. Selling that information to two parties, both Devlin Farrell and Henley, made for double profit. The Gibbonses were treacherous enough for such a move and greedy enough to risk Devlin’s anger.
“Thought ye got ’em all.”
“You know we didn’t,” Jamie countered, running his own bluff. “And you know who I want.”
Dick seemed to contemplate denial and decide against it. “Henley, is it?”
Charlie took a swig from the bottle and eyed the Gibbons brothers warily. His glance at Jamie warned of caution, but Jamie was beyond that. There was only one way to deal with men like these—plainly. “Henley,” he confirmed.
“’E’s a dangerous one,” Dick said. “’E offered a bounty fer ye, didn’t ’e?”
“You know he did,” Jamie confirmed. “Was it you who took a shot at me two nights ago?”
Artie’s shoulders shook, but his laugh sounded more like a wheeze. His grin split to reveal two rows of rotten teeth. Dick shrugged, but did not answer Jamie’s question.
“I thought a knife was more to your liking,” Charlie said. “Was it you who carved up old Cox?”
“A smart man’d use whatever’d get the job done. We hears th’ Hunters is dangerous, too. Wouldn’t pay ta get too close.”
“I didn’t know that mattered to you and your brother.”
“Don’t.” Dick sat back in his chair and took Jamie’s measure. “If there’s enough money in it.”
Here was the confirmation that the Gibbons brothers would play a double game without the least compunction. “Name your price.”
The Gibbons brothers put their heads together and communicated in whatever way they were able given Artie’s reluctance or inability to speak. When Dick faced him again, he laughed, expelling a cloud of foul breath that nearly sickened Jamie.
“Considerin’ the risk, hundred pounds,” he said.
Jamie kept his expression neutral. The sum was enough to keep a small family for a year. The Home Office would never pay so much, but Jamie could muster that much from his personal accounts. And capturing Henley had become a very personal matter. “Done,” he said. “On delivery.”
“Ain’t our usual way o’ doin’ business,” Dick said, his dull eyes narrowing.
“If you know the Hunte
rs’ reputations, you know we honor our debts. And you know it would not be wise to cross us. You’re already living on borrowed time as far as Devlin Farrell is concerned.”
Both the Gibbons brothers looked nervous for the first time. Whether due to Devlin’s wrath or the Hunters’, it did not matter. All that mattered was that the Gibbons brothers would be unlikely to double-cross them again.
“How’ll we find ye when we gots the information?”
“The Crown and Bear after midnight. If I am not there, leave a message with Mick Haddon and I’ll find you.”
“How lovely Vauxhall is this time of year,” Lady Annica sighed, gesturing at the roses as the ladies strolled along one of the paths. She glanced over her shoulder and the vapid smile faded from her lips. “At last we are alone. Now, tell us what Mr. Renquist reported to you this afternoon, Eugenia.”
The day had been warm and the sun was just dipping below the horizon as their group halted and gathered in a circle to hear the news. Gina took a deep breath before she began.
“He is not particularly hopeful. He says he has made inquiries in all the most likely places, all to no avail. He has not given up, however, and informs me there are still a number of sources he has not yet tapped.”
Grace Hawthorne squeezed her hand. “You look discouraged, dear. But Mr. Renquist has proven his worth ten times over. We have a great deal of faith in him.”
“Yes, but my mother has said she is looking into ways whereupon we can leave for Ireland sooner. I do not know how much more time I may have.”
“Never fear.” Lady Sarah’s violet eyes narrowed, reminding Gina of her brother’s eyes and causing a little tingle to race up her spine. “Should it be necessary for you to leave before we have found the scoundrel, we shall continue. Nary a man has eluded us for long.”
The assurance was comforting, but Gina wanted to be present herself for Henley’s capture. She wanted to witness his humiliation. “Thank you, Lady Sarah. I appreciate all the Wednesday League has done for me.”
She hesitated and glanced at her sister, Lilly. Would the ladies be angry? Chastise her? Even so, they had been forthright with her, and she could be no less with them. “I have also employed some street urchins to keep watch for any sign of Mr. Henley. And to gather whatever information they can.”
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