“He’s done worse in our company,” Aden agreed, and took her hand. Hurrying her into a brisk walk, they headed directly for the small employee’s door at the northeast corner of the building. Ducking them into the shadows, he made a fist and knocked.
“That’s rather anticlimactic,” she muttered.
He chuckled. “If nobody answers I’ll have to start breaking things.”
The door opened with an abruptness that startled her, dim lantern light flooding into the street. “This way,”a thin, older man with a cloud of brown and white hair whispered. “No lingering.”
She stepped past him, Aden on her heels. As she watched, the man shut and locked the door again, then picked up the lamp to lead the way down a long hallway lined with doors.
“Stay close. It gets very dark in here at night.” He half faced her. “Peter Crowley,” he said in a low voice. “You would be Miss Harris, I presume?”
“Yes, I would be. So you and Aden have played at cards?”
“I’d say he’s bought me a few beers over the course of the Season,” Mr. Crowley returned. “And lost many a penny.”
“Crowley nae wagers more than a shilling,” Aden commented, warm and solid behind her. “Claims his wife, Mary, would crack him over the head if he ever lost more than that.”
“That is very good incentive, then. But why are you helping us, Mr. Crowley? You’re risking your employment.”
“I’ve worked in this bank for most of my adult life,” he said. “I’ve seen men come in to empty their accounts and hand them over to some stranger because of an unlucky turn of the cards. Lately I’ve seen several account holders arrive with the very same man in tow. When Aden told me your troubles, I realized we were all dismayed by the very same man. Legally I can’t do anything to stop this cheating and double dealing. But tonight, here in the dark, I can.”
“Ye’re a good man, Peter.”
“As are you. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be here. Iamrisking a great deal. Not to mention my wife cracking me on the head.”
He stopped them somewhere close to the bank’s middle,a place with cabinets and counters and still more doors and walls. It was a labyrinth. Even if there had been a hundred lamps, she didn’t think she would have been able to find her way out again.
“The private rooms where customers store their items in need of protection are down the hall over there.” Mr. Crowley gestured into the darkness. “I can’t in good conscience allow you in there, and I don’t have another lamp. So please, don’t move. We have a very limited amount of time.”
Mr. Crowley and his lantern retreated, the small circle of light receding until he turned a corner, leaving them in the dark. In the distance something rattled, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing.
“You might have told Lady Aldriss that this isn’t quite a burglary,” Miranda whispered, reaching out and finding Aden’s sleeve, then working her way down to his hand.
“It is a burglary. We’re just nae breaking a door to get inside. If we get caught, ye’re to faint and claim I kidnapped ye. And I’m nae jesting about that, Miranda. Ye ken?”
“So you go to prison for even worse crimes than burglary and I get to marry Vale?” she retorted, sotto voce. “I would rather join you in a cell at the Old Bailey.”
“I dunnae reckon they’d let us share.”
It still sounded better than marrying Vale. “Did you make Peter Crowley’s acquaintance because you knew he worked here, and you knew Lord George and Matthew banked here?”
“I met Crowley before I met ye. Once ye asked for my help I did query if he’d ever seen a hawk-faced man wagering, and he said nae but that he’d seen him here at the bank with a lad who sounded like George Humphries. The rest came together later.”
“I imagine I’m supposed to deliver another lesson inpolite Society to you now, and tell you that sons of earls and brothers of viscounts do not go wagering at establishments where bank clerks and tradesmen spend their coin,” she mused, squeezing his hand. “And that aristocrats do not call commoners ‘friend.’”
“Ye can if ye’d like, but I’d be disap—”
“I’m not going to do any such thing,” she interrupted. “By breaking those rules, you very likely saved my life—or at least my sanity.”
“Ye broke a few for me, as well, lass,” he returned in his low brogue. “And I hope ye’ll break a few more.”
That made a shiver run down her spine, one not entirely caused by the looming darkness around them. The idea of being with him again left her feeling nearly euphoric.
The flood of light as Mr. Crowley reentered the main space was nearly blinding. Despite all the conversation about why they’d come here, it wasn’t until she saw the wooden box in the bank clerk’s hands that the worry of it all hit her. If Vale’s papers weren’t in that box, one of two things would likely happen tomorrow: Either Vale would arrive at her house and tell her parents why she would be marrying him; or Aden would kill him. There didn’t seem to be a third choice, however desperately she wished for one.
“Captain Robert Vale didnotwant anyone looking at his possessions,” Mr. Crowley said, putting the box on the counter. It made a heavy thud, not at all like something that held a few very valuable pieces of paper. “It’s nailed shut. And before you ask, I cannot let this box leave the bank.”
Indeed, the box was stamped with the bank’s seal and several notations indicating its ownership, location, and the date it had been deposited. As Miranda began to lament all over again why no one had brought a hammer oran iron pry bar, Aden bent down and freed the knife from his boot.
