“None of it matters,” Fi stated. “The only thing we care about now is escaping. Getting to safety. Do you understand?”
“I cannot leave.” Lillian hung her head. “After what I’ve done…”
“You’ve made some bad choices. Choices for which you will have to face consequences. But you never intended to hurt anyone, did you?”
Lillian shook her head vehemently. “At first, I thought I was doing something noble. Joining a worthwhile cause. Michael said that we were like Robin Hood and his merry band, taking money from the rich who didn’t need it to feed the poor. To give working-class folk a chance to survive. He has a way of…of convincing people. Of making them believe what he wants to. I thought I was in love with him and did what he asked.
“But I started to notice that he wasn’t giving away all the money we stole. When I confronted him, he said it was to cover our expenses, but I suspected the truth. Knew it for certain when I overheard him talking to that policeman Sterling about splitting the profits between the two of them. Turns out, Sterling was the true mastermind behind the plan. He said he was tired of working for a policeman’s pay and got the idea for the Sherwood Band after witnessing the popularity of the Chartists. Only he wasn’t trying to improve the conditions of the working class; he was using the desperation of good, ordinary folk for his own gain. I should have left then—should have done something. But I was a coward.”
“You are no coward,” Fiona insisted.
Lillian’s voice had a remote quality to it. “By then, Michael had started…hurting me. And he threatened to harm Mama. One day, he gave me her address in Yorkshire, told me the times of day when she was alone. He s-said that he could have her k-killed if he wanted to. He is powerful. He has friends everywhere…”
“His power is based only in fear. That is how he is controlling you,” Fi said. “We’ve alerted Mrs. O’Malley to the danger. She is safe. She knows about Wilkes, about everything that has happened. All she wants is for you to come home.”
“Mama is safe?” Lillian whispered.
“Yes. And I know that beneath your fear, there is so much strength inside you.” Fi appealed to the girl whose spirit felt like a twin to her own. “I’ve read your letters to your mama. I know you are strong—strong and bold enough to go after your dreams. Even if you haven’t achieved those dreams yet, you had the courage to try. That courage is what you need to call upon now. To get us both free and back to the people we love.”
Lillian drew a shuddering breath. “Tell me what to do.”
Fiona held out her manacled hands. “First, you need to free me.”
From the deck of the lighter, Hawk surveyed the old mill through a telescope. Against the dusk-splattered sky, the three-story brick building stood like Gothic ruins. Sections were crumbling, smashed windows resembling a line of broken teeth. Hawk fought the panic that threatened to consume him as he thought of Fiona being held hostage inside.
Knowing that Hawk was about to uncover his nefarious deeds, Sterling had struck first. He’d kidnapped Fiona and sent a note: call off the search for him and the Sherwood Band, or Fiona’s dead body would be deposited on Hawk’s doorstep. Sterling claimed that he would know if the police continued to hunt him. Fiona would be returned to Hawk after, and only after, Sterling and his gang made their escape.
Now Fiona’s life hung in the balance. Hawk clenched the telescope, the metal crumpling in his grip. With force of will, he summoned the cool head he would need to get his wife back. He exhaled, turning to the others. The Angels, their husbands, Lady Fayne, Hawker, and Mrs. Peabody had accompanied him on the rescue mission. The members of the Quorum were arriving on another boat. Given the situation, the two organizations had traded notes and agreed to work together. They had left the police out of it, couldn’t risk their plan being exposed if Sterling had accomplices on the force.
“You are certain they are in there?” Hawk said tersely.
“My larks sighted Wilkes headed south over the river,” Cullen said. “They lost him in Battersea. But when you told me about the handkerchief, I knew where they had to be.”
Swinburne’s chemist colleague had run a series of tests on the handkerchief Hawk had found. The scientist had ruled out several kinds of poisons to arrive at a surprisingly mundane conclusion: the white powder was milled wheat. Flour.
“The larks found fresh tracks around the mill,” Cullen went on. “The place has been abandoned for years, which makes it the perfect hiding place.”
“And Wilkes, as a baker, would know about the mill,” Lady Olivia said.
“That also explains Wilkes’s persistent cough,” Lady Glory put in. “According to Master Chen, who has had patients with baker’s lung, the cough can improve if the afflicted person stays away from flour, but it is often triggered by the slightest exposure.”
“And there’s plenty of flour dust in that old mill.” Cullen’s scarred face was somber. “Which means we cannot go in there with our guns blazing. Watch where you shoot, and don’t miss. Flour is highly flammable. We do not want a repeat of what happened at the Albion Mills or, God forbid, on Pudding Lane.”
In both instances, flour had fueled the massive conflagrations.
“What is the layout of the building?” This came from Lady Fayne.
Like the Angels, she was outfitted for the mission in a dark ensemble that included trousers. Her hair was hidden beneath a cap, her gaze calm and steady. Hawk felt a surge of resentment: the woman had filled Fiona’s head with dangerous ideas about being an investigator. She bore some responsibility for the peril that his wife now faced.
As if catching wind of his thoughts, the lady raised her brows slightly.
“The larks scouted two exits at the north and south ends of the building,” Cullen was saying. “Between our group and Hawksmoor’s colleagues, we have those covered. We’ll also have to cut off a third escape route: a waterway that was used for transporting flour runs beneath the building. We’ll have to post boats where that waterway connects to the Thames. Hawksmoor, what is your best estimate of Sterling and Wilkes’s forces?”
“At the fight last night, my group counted thirteen enemies in the fray,” Hawk replied. “We have four in custody. Which leaves at least nine, plus any other cutthroats Sterling may have on retainer. With the Quorum, we should be an even match. We’ll split into teams and go in when it’s dark.”
For some reason, Cullen shot a look at his wife.
“See, sunshine?” he muttered. “It is as I said. We have more hands than we need. In your condition—”
