Jack’s eyebrows rose. “Sir Harry Kent, the president of the Royal Society? The fellow is a genius. Rumor has it that he set a record with the number of patents he holds.”
“Aunt Tessa—she’s Uncle Harry’s wife—had an entire wing added to their home to accommodate his inventions. She says she was tired of tripping over them.” Livy’s grin was impish. “And of their children playing with explosive devices.”
“Your uncle can be trusted to be discreet?” Charlie asked.
“He is a Kent. Discretion is the family motto. I’ll bring the bottle to him and explain the situation. If I know Uncle Harry, he will have an answer for us within a few days,” Livy said confidently.
Charlie looked at Jack, who nodded.
“On to the matchbox then,” she said. “Mr. Granger and I are going to pay a visit to the manufactory to see if we can get information about where this particular box might have been sold.”
“May I see the matchbox?” Pippa requested.
Receiving the box, Pippa gave it a thorough once-over. Removing a small notebook and pencil from her reticule, she swiftly copied the design. Her reproduction of the lettering, large tree in the background, and decorative border of acorns and leaves was stunningly precise.
Even Jack looked impressed.
“Pippa is an artist,” Charlie told him.
“I will make copies and distribute them to the mudlarks,” Pippa said.
Jack furrowed his brow, no doubt wondering how the pretty blonde would be familiar with street urchins. “You have contact with mudlarks, ma’am?”
“She lives with hundreds of them,” Fiona said airily.
“My husband, Mr. Cullen, has looked after the larks for many years,” Pippa explained. “We run a school of sorts now, teaching the children various trades. But the larks still like to roam the streets and have eyes and ears everywhere. If that matchbox is still being sold, they will find out where. I will also ask my husband if he has heard anything about this First Flame Society.”
Jack looked at Charlie. “You have a remarkable team, Lady Fayne.”
“I know it,” she murmured.
“Speaking of teams, sir.” Fi’s manner was guileless. “I’m afraid I can’t recall who hired you to investigate the anarchists?”
“That is because I did not mention it,” Jack said dryly.
“For any particular reason?”
Given that Fiona’s earl was an agent for the Crown, she’d probably guessed Jack’s line of work. Hawksmoor had said he didn’t know Fayne, but Charlie wondered if the reverse was also true. Did Jack know that Hawksmoor ran in espionage circles? It seemed the foreign and domestic branches had little knowledge of one another, which put her—and Fiona—in an awkward position. She knew Fiona would never compromise Hawksmoor’s cover without his permission, just as Charlie would never do so to Jack.
Jack seemed to come to a decision. “I am employed in the interests of national security. Particularly from threats from abroad. That is all I am at liberty to say.”
“I understand.” Fi paused. “Given the potential threat posed by the anarchists, do you think local authorities ought to be put on alert?”
“They have been informed of the heightened risk,” Jack replied. “Unfortunately, we don’t have substantiated information concerning the threat. Just a murdered bloke, a bottle of unidentified liquid that begins to smoke when exposed to air, and a box of matches.”
“Nonetheless, proper precautions must be taken.” Glory chewed on her lip. “According to the papers, the opening of the Great Exhibition is expected to draw a crowd of over twenty thousand. Her Majesty the Queen, Prince Albert, and their children will be there, along with dignitaries from around the world. If one were intent on creating mass devastation, on proving that progress is an illusion, it would be the most obvious—and symbolic—place to target.”
“I agree,” Jack said gravely.
“If the anarchists’ aim is to attack the exhibition, we must have a counterplan,” Livy declared.
The Angels nodded as one.
“I could surveil the site,” Glory said. “And get a copy of the exhibition map. That way, we will be better able to anticipate and prepare for any eventuality.”
“A splendid idea,” Fiona said. “I will help you, Glory.”
“We have a strategy then,” Charlie said. “Livy takes care of the liquid, Mr. Granger and I visit Brompton’s manufactory, Pippa enlists the larks, and Glory and Fi take on the exhibition. Do you have anything else to add, Mr. Granger?”
