“Davies is clean,” Ambrose said quietly. “I spoke with several of his informants. All of them stated that he instructed them never to engage, only to observe. I, myself, have known Davies for over two decades, and my gut tells me he is an honest man.”
Still, she hesitated. Old beliefs died hard.
“Just as good and evil exist in the underworld, both are found in the police force,” Harry said.
It was difficult to argue with reason.
“Will you ask this Davies to join us, then?” she said reluctantly to her lover.
“Let me talk to him,” Ambrose said. “Harry ought to accompany you on your quest.”
Surrounded by staunch supporters, Tessa felt a surge of confidence. She grasped the chain of her medallion, pulling it from beneath her bodice. The gleaming disk and her grandfather’s signet ring glinted in the morning light.
“From the bottom of my heart, thank you, friends,” she said. “The House of Black will not forget your kindness this day.”
To Harry’s relief, the meeting with the Prince of Larks went off without a hitch. This was not surprising, given the history between the Prince, Polly, and Sinjin. During the adventures that had brought Sinjin and Polly together, Sinjin had saved the Prince’s life, and Polly was a mentor to the Prince’s young sister. Indeed, the Actons ran a school in the countryside giving interested mudlarks a chance to learn a vocation, should they choose.
Nonetheless, Harry knew a fierce admiration watching his sprite in action. It struck him, not for the first time, that she had much in common with her grandfather. Given the chance to prove her mettle, she did so without hesitation. Her willfulness, pranks, and clever stratagems were but a shadow of what she was truly capable of, if given the opportunity.
She was fearless, resolute, possessed of a royal strength of will. She was a true leader in spite of her sex, diminutive size, and the ferret perched on her shoulder.
When she spoke, people listened. They believed becauseshebelieved.
Harry could not be prouder to stand by her side.
After securing the Prince of Lark’s pledge to help with the siege on O’Toole, Harry and Tessa traveled on without Polly and Sinjin. Earlier, Tessa had sent notes, stamped with her grandfather’s seal, to the other two dukes, Christian Croft and Severin Knight. Apparently, Croft was travelling and would not be back for a fortnight. Knight, however, had sent a prompt reply inviting them to meet at his office.
Their carriage navigated through the crowded, narrow streets of Spitalfields to arrive at a street of terraced houses not far from the Petticoat Lane Market. In the falling dusk, all the buildings looked the same, with plain brick fronts, the most distinguishing thing about them being the massive windows that graced all three storeys.
At Knight’s address, Harry and Tessa were escorted in by a guard, who led them past lower floors that appeared to be dwelling spaces to the uppermost level. There, a vast room was filled with wooden looms presently unattended. The light of sconces flickered over the spindles of silk and unfinished swathes, giving the place a ghostly feel.
Severin Knight approached them, his large shadow sweeping over the abandoned looms.
“Ah, you must be Miss Todd.” He took her hand and kissed it, the gesture unexpectedly suave for a man of his size. When he raised his dark head, there was a gleam of interest in his eyes that Harry did not like. “’Tis a pity we were not brought together by better circumstances.”
“Mr. Knight.” Pulling free of his grasp, Tessa acknowledged his greeting with a regal nod. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but you must know the situation is urgent.”
“Come.” Knight’s casual wave included Harry. “We shall have the discussion in my office.”
As they headed to the back of the room, Tessa said curiously, “I noticed the living quarters are below the workshop. Isn’t that a bit topsy-turvy?”
“Depends on one’s perspective,” Knight said. “A weaver’s work depends on light, so he must follow it where it goes.”
“Hence the upper floor. And the large windows,” Tessa surmised.
“Precisely.” Knight ushered them through a door into an opulent chamber. Huge, intricate tapestries covered three of the walls. The remaining wall was nearly all glass, the clear panes refracting the last fingers of sunset clinging to the sky.
“How beautiful,” Tessa exclaimed.
Smiling faintly, Knight waved them to chairs by his desk, settling behind it. “Now to business.”
“The House of Black is calling all its loyal men to arms,” Tessa began.
“Its leader has been captured.” Knight steepled his hands. “I’d say the battle has been decided.”
“It is far from decided. That coward O’Toole launched a dastardly attack on my grandfather, using the most underhanded of means. He is not fit to be the king.”
“Nonetheless, he holds the current king hostage. And two of the dukes have joined him.” Knight fiddled with the ornate silver wax jack on his blotter. “I do not enjoy conflict, Miss Todd, but I enjoy being on the losing side less. To be frank, what do I care which king I pay my tribute to? O’Toole will take no more of a cut than your grandfather does. In the end, it is all the same to me.”
