The Emperor's Conspiracy

by Michelle Diener

  “What is the bet?”

  “Whether you’ll propose, or simply make her your mistress.”

  Edward stood dead still while shock took a smithy’s hammer to his heart. “Why would anyone think she’d agree to be my mistress?” He spoke quietly, but Dervish wasn’t fooled and checked his progress toward the door.

  The look he sent Edward was sharp. “There is nothing to suggest she would. You’re right, it’s an odd bet to make.”

  “I’d like to know who made it.” His hands were shaking, and he looked around the room, as if he could discern by merely looking just who would write such a foul thing.

  Dervish made a play of clapping him on the shoulder, drawing him toward the door. “Please God, not to call him out?” His voice was as low as he could make it.

  Edward didn’t answer. He would make some retribution, even if it wasn’t an actual calling out. “I’ll tell you when we’re outside.” He negotiated the stairs and the front entrance, tolerating the sideways looks and leers of men who usually minded their own business.

  “Well?”

  They were outside, but there were enough coaches coming and going for Edward to shake his head again and start walking toward St. James’s Park. It was after midnight but there was enough moonlight for the walk to be an easy one, and the breeze was cool and welcome. “Last night we suspected they’d try to blackmail you again, but with Frethers dead, they can’t do it as easily. They’ve found someone else, although I’m not sure where they got their information on her.”

  “Her?” Dervish had been keeping pace with him along the tree-lined street but now he stumbled to a halt.

  “Charlotte Raven.”

  Dervish blew out a breath. “For a moment, I thought it was your sister.”

  “It being Miss Raven is as bad,” Edward said, teeth gritted, and Dervish snapped his mouth closed with a look on his face that said things had just become clear.

  Good. Edward wanted them crystal clear.

  “What have they got on her?”

  “That’s part of the mystery. They’ve got a lot less on her than they could have. Their plan to blackmail her is their biggest mistake so far. She’d told me the secret they threatened her with revealing some time ago.”

  “They threatened to reveal her secrets to you?” Dervish asked, confused.

  “To me, and then for good measure, to the rest of the ton.” He shrugged. “They think she wants to become my wife. Which was their first mistake. And their second was thinking that she would never tell me the truth about herself.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It is I who want her, not the other way around.” Edward found saying it wasn’t so hard as he thought it would be. “And she is not ashamed of her secret. She has kept it because she knows it will hurt Lady Howe if she is shunned by society, but I have known it for nearly a week.”

  “How did they approach her? Does she know who it was?” Dervish did not ask what the secret was, and Edward felt the first stirrings of real camaraderie for him.

  “She knew him, all right. He approached her at the ball, in full view of everyone.” Edward sent Dervish a slow, satisfied smile. “Lord Tavenam.”

  Dervish was speechless for a moment. “They must be desperate to be so brazen.”

  “Or too self-assured. Or both. We certainly never had Tavenam as a possibility, did we?”

  “I certainly didn’t.” Dervish was rubbing his hands. Then he stopped again. “What did they want Miss Raven to do?”

  Edward clamped his lips together and had to breathe through his nose as the rage flared in him again, replacing the smug satisfaction he’d had a moment earlier at knowing Tavenam had handed himself to them like a willing sacrifice. “They wanted her to report my conversations about the smuggling to them, to copy my notes, and generally give them as much information as she could find on the business from me.”

  “Do you talk to her about it?” Dervish asked, surprised.

  “No, I don’t. When she told Tavenam this, he told her if she couldn’t do it another way, then she was to insinuate herself in my bed, and get the information from me that way.”

  “Ah.” Dervish looked back at the club, although it was far behind them now. In fact, they were crossing the street into the park itself. “This is about the bet?”

  “Yes.” Edward wondered at the stupidity of it. Whoever made that bet was trying to profit from forcing a woman to another man’s bed. His bed. Charlotte Raven’s reputation was unimpeachable. It beggared belief that someone could have made that bet without knowing what Tavenam had instructed her to do. The timing was too perfect.

  It made him sick, even as he was grateful for the man’s greed. It would mean he was as good as caught, along with Tavenam.

  “That is the coldest thing I’ve ever heard.” Dervish’s voice was weak with shock. “If you do want to call whoever made that bet out, I’ll be your second.”

  Edward smiled bleakly. “I may take you up on that. Perhaps I could ask you to find out who it is? I don’t trust myself not to throw myself at him if I do it.”

  Dervish nodded. “Of course, their thinking she is helping them could work in our favor.”

  “But ruin her reputation. If they believe she has made herself my mistress to get the information, that won’t stay a secret for long. Not with idiots among them betting on that outcome.”

  “Then you have to follow all the proprieties with her. See her enough socially to make it believable that she’s getting information, but nothing that would give even the slightest hint to the scandalmongers.”

  Edward made a noncommittal sound. “And give her false information to pass on, you mean?” They had stopped just short of a small copse of trees and he tipped his head to look up at the stars. “We would have to be very careful. One slip, one uncovered lie, and either they’ll try to silence her, or they’ll follow through on their threat and ruin her.”

  “We can be careful. And vague. They can’t argue if she brings them a map of places where we’ve caught boats in the past, that sort of thing. That will hold them for a while—her giving them information they already know we know.”

  Dervish was right. But it was not something they could risk for long. “We need to end this quickly. Too much is at stake, and Charlotte Raven has too much to lose when her only crime was doing the right thing.”

  “I would love to ask you more about Miss Raven, and how she came to be involved in this.” Dervish lifted his hands as Edward turned to him. “I said I would love to, but I won’t. I hope one day you can share it with me. I won’t ask it of you now.”

  Edward said nothing, and after a while they continued on their walk, taking the circular path that would put them back near St. James’s Square.

  “There is something I meant to tell you, before I spoke to Miss Raven and heard of blackmailing and bets. Geoffrey was involved in smuggling.”

  “What?” Dervish stumbled to a halt.

  Edward gave a short, decisive nod. “My problem with Geoffrey’s involvement was always that it was very uncertain odds I would renege on my duties and lie about my investigation to protect him. No one could say for certain I would help him—it’s no secret how much I disliked him. Geoffrey being brought in just to catch me didn’t make sense—especially as they put my name forward. I wouldn’t be involved in this at all, but for their interfering. But Geoffrey being brought in so they could use his land to pick up and drop off their smuggled goods—now that I can believe. And when they heard from you that someone would be appointed full-time to investigate, well, they must have scrambled around for a list of likely candidates and looked at whose connection would be the strongest. Geoffrey was probably the best they could do on short notice.”

  Dervish started walking again. “Is your sister safe, up there on her own?”

  Edward nodded. “She was never involved in it, and I can’t believe any of the smugglers would approach her.”

  “I wondered where they were s
toring the guineas before they shipped them. On private land with the blessing of the lord of the manor would make sense. There could be some there right now.”

  Edward conceded the point. “You want to go up there?”

  “Yes. I’ll take a small team of men with me to search. It will be a victory to find a stash of guineas before they leave the country.”

  Edward thought Dervish looked better than he had before this affair became a sordid mix of blackmail and murder. Stronger, and far less melancholy. “I’ll write a letter to my sister, and tell her to let you have the run of the place.”

  “Thank you.” Dervish looked, for the first time, discomforted. Almost shy.

  And if Edward wasn’t in the same position of lovesick swain himself, he might have missed the yearning in Dervish’s face.

  27

  Charlotte dressed in Betsy’s clothes, making sure all her hair was under a cap, to fool Tavenam’s watchers.

  She didn’t leave too early. Things started a little later on a Saturday morning in the rookeries. So much robbing and filching to do on a Friday night, a pickpocket had to get his or her sleep.

  Of course, no matter how late they rose in Tothill Road, they were still up hours before the good gentlemen and ladies of the ton.

  She took Gary with her, unwilling to expose Kit to more antagonism after his run-in with Sammy, but halfway there Kit swung into step with them anyway, whistling as if he’d been walking with them all along.

  She touched his arm, and when he looked across at her, lifted her brows, but he just grinned at her. Gary was more relaxed with him since he’d helped her get Edward out. More friendly.

  Kit was hers.

  They were on either side of her, sentinels guarding a commander going into hostile territory.

  The comparison stabbed at her. When had she started thinking of her old home as hostile? A place where she had to take two men to protect her, and where every face peering from a doorway, every sudden movement, had the potential for danger?

  She walked up the stairs to the gin house and opened the door without knocking. They could complain to Luke if they didn’t like it.

  Down below, in the weak light that struggled into the pit through the filthy windows on the ground floor, a woman swept the debris of the night away, and another mopped behind her, the smell of carbolic and stale gin mixing together in a toxic perfume.

  She didn’t call to them, or even greet them, taking the stairs quickly as they stopped their work and stared at her and then at Gary and Kit coming behind her.

  “Didn’t recognize you in that maid’s getup. He’s no’ here.” Charlotte saw it was Jess Blackwell, Bill’s wife, who spoke now that she was closer and her eyes were accustomed to the gloom.

  “Hello, Jess.” She’d always liked Jess, and the woman nodded her head at the greeting, her face showing nothing but calm interest.

  “Will Luke be gone long?”

  Jess shrugged, but there was no insolence or attitude in it.

  “Bill and Sammy upstairs, then?”

  “Now what’d you be wanting wit’ them?” The woman with the mop thrust out a hip and frowned, and Charlotte recognized her as Flo Jump, Sammy’s woman.

  “That’d be my business.” It came out sharper than she intended, but Flo was everything Charlotte disliked about this place. Excess, and lack of self-control, and a crudeness that grated on her nerves.

  And even as she thought that, she cringed inwardly, because she knew the kind of life Flo had had. And no Luke to help her. Not until life had thrown its worst at her.

  She started forward to the office and Jess stepped out of her way. Flo made a sound of fury behind her, and she heard the women arguing with each other as Gary and Kit followed her in and closed the door.

  “You’re no friend to that one,” Kit murmured, and didn’t need to say which of the two women he meant.

  “She’s no friend to anyone,” Gary said. “Especially if they wear a skirt.”

  They took the spiral staircase up to the living quarters and Bill met them at the top, relaxing when he saw who it was. He eyed her maid’s clothes, confused but too polite to say anything. “Luke’s not here. Jess should ’ave told yer.”

  “She did.” Charlotte looked at Sammy, standing near the window, then at Kit. But they were ignoring each other, both trying desperately not to catch the other’s eye. “I was hoping you could help me, as he’s not here.”

  “What do you need?” Bill asked, but Sammy put his hands on his hips, in an unconscious mimicry of Flo’s actions below.

  “She don’t get help from us just by askin’.” The gaze he turned her way was narrow-eyed, no doubt remembering the night she’d slipped past him and locked him out of the office. “You an’ th’ boss are having stormy times, way I see it. Not sure we should ’elp you at all, ’less it’s at his say-so.”

  Gary made a movement, shifting his weight, and Sammy swung in his direction, fists half raised. They stared at each other.

  She stepped between them, facing Sammy. “His deal with Frethers. To smuggle gold guineas out the country. I want to know the details.”

  For the first time, Sammy looked uncertain, lowering his fists. “He told you about the guineas?”

  “How else would I know?” She did not feel the slightest remorse at her misdirection.

  Bill spoke softly. “Thought it was to be absolutely secret.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not surprised by that. This has to be the biggest pie Luke ever stuck his finger into.”

  Sammy and Bill shared an uneasy glance.

  “If he told you about the guineas, why’d you need more information from us?” Sammy asked.

  “We had an argument before he finished telling me.” She sat on the arm of a chair. “What is Luke about?”

  “Revenge.” Sammy sighed. “Just revenge. But I won’t lie to yer. Bill and me, we’re nervous o’ this one. He’s too focused on it. Won’t see any o’ the dangers, any o’ the drawbacks. He’s too determined this is what’ll sink the nobs.”

  “We’re makin’ money like we’re printing it in the back room,” Bill said. “It’s too easy. We’re being led somewhere, and when we get there, I don’t think we’ll find it’s a party.”

  “You can’t put the brakes on him?” Gary asked.

  Sammy threw himself onto a delicate scarlet and gold chaise longue. “What would really put the brakes on is you coming back, where you belong.” He pointed to Charlotte, bitterness lacing his words. “He’s gotten like a rabid dog some days, since you threw his heart in the gutter and stamped on it.”

  She shook her head. “That’s the pain of his injury, not me.” And also, but she dare not mention it, the way his injury had stripped him of part of what it meant to be a man. She’d spoken to him about it only twice, but the acid of rage and bitterness leaped behind his eyes each time. She shook her head again, pushing the horror of what had been done to him away, and looked Sammy in the eye. “He’s had years to get used to the idea—”

  “Years to brood, you mean.” Sammy’s lips twisted. “And ’e never made a clean break. Neither of you did. He doesn’t go a week without seeing you, with your knowledge or not. Followin’ you about.”

  “Though why he should brood over a stuck-up bitch like you, when there’s plenty o’ lively lasses right here in the stews, I don’t know.” Flo had come up the stairs, silent even though she limped. She crossed to Sammy’s side and slid a proprietary hand on his shoulder.

  He shrugged her off. “Watch your mouth, Flo. You know what Luke has to say about bad-mouthing Charlie.”

  Flo’s lips thinned, almost disappeared, and she turned away, walked to a dresser and fussed with it, dusting and moving bowls around.

  “Sammy’s right; his temper is partly to do with you.” Bill spoke quietly, but with absolute certainty. “If you were ’ere, he’d be better.”

  “I wish I could believe that—”

  “You don’t want to bel
ieve it, because you don’t want to be here, back wi’ the likes o’ us.” Flo shot a defiant look at Sammy while she spoke.

  Kit caught Charlotte’s eye and jerked his head to the stairs. He was right. It was time to go. They would get nothing out of Sammy and Bill with Luke gone. And nothing but the unpalatable truth from Flo.

  Charlotte turned slowly, the weight of her guilt dragging her down. Was she so selfish?

  “Wait.” Bill hunched his massive shoulders, as if to defend against a blow. “We don’t know much about it, neither. Just enough to be worried Luke’s got in way too deep. Deeper than it’s worth.”

  “Bill.” Sammy’s word was a warning and a threat in one.

  But Bill rounded on him, suddenly dangerous—Luke’s weapon rather than the gentle giant he was most of the time. “You don’t command me, Sammy Bayton. Give Charlie anything she wants, Luke’s told me often enough. And I’m going to do just that.”

  Charlotte looked between them, saw Gary and Kit held themselves a little more ready than usual.

  “Go down to Billingsgate, to an inn called the Barking Ram. Ask for a sailor called John Norris. May be you can get ’im to talk. He’s part of it all, did business with Luke sometimes. Organized things for Luke.”

  “Why would he help me, then?”

  “He’s out of it, as o’ last month. Luke was upset when Norris said he wouldn’t do it no more. They exchanged words. My guess, Norris wouldn’t mind an injection o’ cash now he’s off the money boat. It may be he’ll sing for ’is supper.” Bill shuffled a little in place. “Take the boys with you; it’s rough down there.”

  “Thank you, Bill.” She went on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. She nodded to Sammy and Flo and let Gary lead the way down the stairs.

  Jess gave them a nod as they passed through the pit and up, still sweeping away the rubbish from the night before.

  Charlotte stepped into the street, her eyes taking in all of it. The mud and filth, the dilapidated houses, the woman curled around a gin bottle in the gutter. And over it all hung the stench of hopelessness.

  “You’re not to feel guilty.” Gary spoke so angrily, she jerked.