She supposed he was right about that. He was the product of their father’s rages, his beatings. She had escaped at a young age, while Drummond had become their father.
“Where are you taking me?” she asked again.
“I am taking you to where I have been staying during my time here in London,” he said, his tone turning conversational. “Just over an apothecary’s shop. I am afraid it will not be comparable to a duke’s home, but you will manage well enough.”
There again was the dig at Felix. She wondered how Drummond had found out about her relationship with him. Just how long had he been in London? And had he been watching her? Suddenly, everything made sense.
Her imagination had not been at work on the instances when she had been so convinced she had seen him.
“Itwasyou,” she said as realization hit her. “I saw you watching me. You have been here in London all along, haven’t you?”
“I have,” he confirmed, sounding pleased with himself. “I knew you were not to be trusted, but the dynamite was best smuggled by a woman. They are suspicious of almost all my men. The risk of having the powder confiscated, a man arrested, and the entire plot unraveled, was too great. As it turned out, you were not my only worry. Rourke, that sniveling little coward, turned Queen’s Evidence the moment Scotland Yard arrested him.”
She supposed Rourke was the man she had met at the Royal Aquarium. The one who had offered evidence against her.
“But I did not give the dynamite to anyone,” she said, struggling to make sense of what had happened. “How were the bombs assembled?”
Drummond laughed. “How foolish you are, Jojo. You can memorize all the lines of a play, and yet you failed to realize someone had come to your hotel and replaced the dynamite in your trunk with biscuit boxes containing actual biscuits instead of powder.”
The revelation chilled her.
“You sent someone into my room to obtain the dynamite?” she asked. “When?”
“During your rehearsals.” He whistled lowly. “Oh, Jojo. You truly had no idea, did you? It was the dynamite you smuggled here that blew a hole in the outer wall of your duke’s townhome. It was also the same dynamite that exploded outside the Scotland Yard offices the day you were being questioned. So you see, you had a part in your own downfall. Not so high and mighty now, are you?”
She felt as if she had turned to ice. She had been so certain the dynamite she had smuggled had still been in her possession, unable to harm anyone. And Drummond had outfoxed her. Not only that, but he had used that same dynamite as a weapon to harm herself and those she loved.
“You are a devil,” she accused. “How could you have laid a bomb outside a home? A child could have died because of you.”
“She would have died because of you as well,” Drummond said. “That is what troubles you most, isn’t it, Jojo? You think yourself such an angel, but you are just as soiled and fallen as all the rest of us.”
“Tell me what you intend to do with me, Drummond,” she said then. “I will have you remember that I am your sister. I share your blood.”
His eyes narrowed upon her with lethal intent. “Fine time for you to recall that, Jojo.”
And she knew her fate was sealed.
Felix was readingVerity a story when word reached him, via an urgent missive sent from Theo’s Crown and Thorn. And then via an urgent communication from the Duke of Arden.
The unthinkable had happened. Johanna had left the theater, escaping the watch of the stagehand who was being paid additional wages to guard her. By the time the man had noticed her exit of the building, he had discovered her with a stranger who described himself as an old friend. Johanna had reassured the man all was well, but the stagehand thought her manner had been troubled.
Arden’s men had been watching the theater as well, and one of them had followed the stranger and Johanna to an apothecary’s shop in the East End. It appeared to the agent as if Johanna was being controlled by the man in question. A man who was almost certainly Drummond McKenna.
Denial, rage, and despair twisted in Felix’s gut. He had done everything in his power to keep Johanna safe.
And yet, it had not been enough.
Because her bastard of a brother had come for her anyway. And he had not been there to protect her. Not that she would have wanted him to. Because of the secrets he had kept from her, she still did not trust him. Perhaps she never would again. And he could not blame her for his own failures.
He could only blame himself.
But that did not mean he was about to rest on his laurels while Johanna was in danger. He had to get to her.
“What is the matter, Papa?” Verity asked, concern in her voice.
Still the picture of her mother. He hugged her to him and kissed her crown. “Nothing is wrong, poppet. It is time, however, for young ladies to go to bed. You need your rest, and I shall see you in the morning.”
Though he did his best to keep his tone controlled and even, dread held him in its claws.
