After she finished summarizing the details of the hellfire, she said imploringly, “No one knows the streets like you do, Alfred. Since Bennett and I cannot keep watch on De Witt on our own, we need your help. You’re to tail him only, mind, and keep a safe distance while you’re doing it.”
Doolittle, who’d remained quiet throughout, scratched his ear. “Why don’t you tell your grandfather ’bout this?”
“You know how Grandpapa is: he never wants me involved, nor does he take me seriously,” she said darkly. “And, in this case, we have no proof of De Witt’s wrong doing. Any scientist could have a laboratory in his house. But if we trail him to the factory where the explosive is being produced,then,”—she snapped her fingers—“we’ve got him. Then Grandpapa will have to believe me. And only then will we be able to put an end to this menace on our streets.”
Doolittle’s sigh was that of a man who knew Tessa well. “Made up your mind, ’ave you?”
Her vigorous nod caused her bonnet to shed a violet onto the carpet.
“Give us the cove’s address,” Doolittle muttered.
“Thank you, Alfred.” Tessa beamed at him.
“The two nights I followed De Witt,” Harry said, “he left his townhouse at nine in the evening. After making an appearance at a society affair, he headed to a club. Crockford’s in St. James.”
“Crockford’s, eh?” Doolittle whistled. “Play there gets steep.”
Which was precisely why Harry wanted to know more about De Witt’s financial situation. Was he in debt? Was money motivating him to produce and sell hellfire to the underworld?
“Both times, he didn’t leave the club until dawn.” Harry paused. “From what I know of De Witt, he is a man of habit, so tailing him will likely involve late nights.”
“Late nights ain’t the problem.” Doolittle stretched his arms, yawning. “It’s the days stuck in this ’ere shop. A chap gets rusty from too much respectability.”
If running a fence was respectable, Harry wondered what Doolittle considered disreputable…and decided he didn’t want to know.
At that instant, a blast came from the front of the shop.
“Zounds.” Tessa’s eyes widened. “Should we go help?”
“Nah. If it were Monday,”—Doolittle exchanged a significant glance with Tessa, making Harry wonder about the “wife” on that day of the week—“my arse would be catapulting from this ’ere chair, but it being Wednesday means all I got to do is nuffin’.” He yawned again. “Come to fink o’ it, I might catch a few winks.”
“We won’t keep you.” Tessa rose, and Harry followed suit. “We’ll hear from you soon?”
“Long as I ’aven’t lost my touch.” Doolittle wriggled his fingers and waved them off.
25
Two nights later,Tessa sat before the vanity as Lizzie put the final touches on her hair. Madame Rousseau, the modiste, had suggested trying a new, softer coiffure to go with the costume, one that she claimed was all the rage. Mavis had arrived to supervise Tessa’s toilette, and she reclined on the adjacent chaise longue, a blanket tucked over her slight form.
Mama hadn’t recovered completely from her last episode. In the mirror, Tessa saw the other’s pale lips, the skin on her cheeks so translucent that a tracery of blue veins showed through.
Tessa bit her lip. “You really didn’t need to come, Mama.”
“Of course I did. My condition prevents me from accompanying you to the masquerade,” Mama said, “but I refuse to miss this part as well. A girl needs her mama to be present for her grand entrée.”
“This isn’t my first foray into theton.”
Tessa felt obliged to point it out. During the years at Southbridge’s, she’d blundered through her share of such events, and she didn’t want her mama’s hopes to be raised…only to be crushed if she once again failed to be a success.
She, herself, had larger game to hunt. The De Witts might be in attendance tonight. Although she’d given Bennett her promise not to approach them, she couldmonitorthem surreptitiously if the occasion permitted.
“Things are different now,” Mama said. “With the Duke of Ranelagh and Somerville at your beck and call, doors will be opened for you.”
“His Grace is hardly at my beck and call.”
“Ransom isdazzledby you.”
Tessa let out a huff of amusement. Because of Mavis’ physical frailty, people often overlooked the fact that she had steel at her core. She was a Black, after all. Her strength of will showed itself frequently when it came to her stepdaughter: it seemed nothing could put a dent in her optimism about Tessa’s future.
