“I am glad you stayed with me,” she whispered.
He raised his head, his gaze sated and soft as summer rain. “I am glad you asked me to.”
Twenty-Two
That afternoon, Hawk arrived just in time for the meeting at Garland’s Curiosities. Devlin slunk in behind him. The rake looked like he’d slept in his clothes.
“Rough night?” Hawk inquired.
Devlin grunted, going to the sideboard to slosh coffee into a cup before heading for the table where the rest of the team was assembled. Swinburne called the meeting to order. He began by reviewing the report Hawk had written on Miss Farley.
“And this Miss Farley is a creditable witness?” the spymaster asked with a frown.
“She isawitness.” Looking surly, Devlin took out a flask, adding a shot of its contents to his cup. “Might have a problem with her eyesight, if you ask me.”
“We’re tracing the vinaigrette,” Hawk said. “I brought it to a jeweler, who gave me a list of places he believes might stock such an item. Apparently, the feather design on the piece is unique, which will make identification easier.”
“A lead, excellent.” Inspector Sterling’s face was rueful. As usual, he looked rumpled, his sandy hair sticking up at the back, his wrinkled frockcoat hanging loosely on his rangy form. “My superiors are breathing down my neck. Apparently, the most recent victim of the Sherwood Band is threatening to post a reward for their capture. And we all know how that will go.”
He received grim nods from around the table. Rewards often hindered more than they helped, leading to bloodshed and loss of life as cutthroats hunted for their bounty. In this instance, the risk was even greater since the gang had cultivated the reputation that it represented the people. Vigilante efforts to capture them would undoubtedly lead to resistance and fan the flames of anarchy.
“Actually, we have more leads.” Hawk cleared his throat. “When I was drugged at the Royal Arms, the attack seemed too organized and targeted to be a random crime. Thus, I asked Trent to try to locate the ruffians involved. And he has discovered some information.”
With a nod, Trent took up where he left off.
“Hawksmoor didn’t give me a lot to go on. Just that there were four assailants, one by the name of Big Jim. I managed to pin down the bastard yesterday. He didn’t want to talk at first, but I persuaded him to chat.”
The glint in Trent’s eyes conveyed the nature of the “chat.”
“Jim confessed that he and his friends had been hired to make trouble for a nobleman who was showing up at the pub that night. According to Jim, he was given Hawksmoor’s description and a powder to put in his drink. He was instructed to give the target a beating and make it look like a robbery.”
“Good God.” Inspector Sterling’s throat bobbed above his lopsided cravat.
“By whom?” Swinburne demanded.
“Jim says a footman found him in the pub, made him the offer, and gave him the money.” Trent paused. “The footman didn’t say who his employer was. Jim, however, snuck out after him and heard him say,‘It’s done, my lord’as he entered an unmarked carriage. Jim claims he never saw who was inside.”
Devlin spoke into the tense silence. “Who do we think was in the carriage?”
“My guess is von Essen,” Hawk said broodingly. “He saw me the night I retrieved Lady Ingersoll’s brooch from his safe. True, I was in disguise, but he might have seen through it. He knows the brooch was used to prove his involvement with the Sherwood Band,andhe was the one who pointed us to the Royal Arms.”
“For what purpose would he target you?” Swinburne asked.
“Retribution, perhaps. Or to create a diversion.”
“Thus far, von Essen has sent us on a wild-goose chase.” Trent ran a hand through his shaggy hair. “His information has led us nowhere. He’s not telling us the truth, despite the police interrogation…no offense, Sterling.”
“None taken,” the inspector assured him. “We’ve allowed the count to remain free in hopes that the Sherwood Band might contact him again. Perhaps it is time to reel in the bait.”
Swinburne gave a decisive nod. “It’s high time the Quorum paid von Essen a visit.”
Hawk’s next stop was the monthly meeting of the Society for Scientific Study and Advancement, held at the residence of noted inventor Harry Kent. Upon Hawk’s arrival, several of the senior members flocked to him to offer felicitations. The crusty old intellectuals insisted on toasting Hawk; apparently, they considered his securing of the Season’s Incomparable not only a coup for himself but for the scholarly community at large.
More than a few fellows observed that marriage appeared to agree with Hawk. As he was not one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, Hawk was surprised that his contentment seemed obvious to all and sundry. He soon stopped worrying about it. There were worse things than others knowing that one was happy.
And he was happy. Bloody over the moon, to be exact. Having Fiona in his life made him feel alive again. He’d been wandering through a thick fog for years, realizing it only now when he’d suddenly stumbled into the light.
For all the brightness Fiona brought into his life, he was discovering that she harbored her own shadows. How strange that a woman with her beauty and talents could have insecurities, yet he now knew that his wife had a deep streak of vulnerability, one she hid behind her dazzling confidence and wit. Her admission about being bullied because of her family’s origins roused all his protective instincts.
