“There’s no need to worry. Griffin and his men are reliable.” After a last pat to his pockets, Wrexford turned without further word and moved noiselessly into the corridor.
A muffled laugh floated up from the stairs leading down to the kitchen and workroom.
Charlotte.However faint, her voice had a way of wrapping itself around his heart.
He paused for just an instant and then quickly retraced his steps to the front of the townhouse, taking care to stay light on his feet as he crossed the marble tiles of the entrance hall. Silence shrouded the unlit space. He reached for the door latch—only to freeze as a mutedclick-clickcaught his ear.
A long moment slid by, and then it came again.Click-click.He turned to see a large shaggy shape materialize from the gloom.
Click-click.Harper padded across checkered tiles, his long claws trailing tiny sounds across the stone.
“Go back,” growled the earl, punctuating the order with a brusque wave.
The hound stopped and wagged his tail.
“Back!” he repeated. “Stay with the Weasels.”
A whuffle. Which sounded suspiciously similar to a human sigh. Wrexford held his breath, silently cursing Tyler’s soft-headedness in bringing the big beast to London simply to amuse the boys. But to his relief, Harper turned, head drooping in disappointment, and retreated back the way he had come.
He waited until silence had once again settled over the house, then eased the door open and slipped out into the night.
* * *
The tide was at low ebb, the stink of decay rising up to foul the mist-chilled air.
The earl crept down Robin Hood Lane and let himself into the East India docklands through the locked gate by Leicester Street. A cluster of squat warehouses stood huddled dark on dark within the gloom. After following the narrow walkway around to the front of the complex, he found a recessed niche and took shelter in order to survey the surroundings.
Up ahead, past the cluttered shipyard, a glimmer of moonlight on the wind-rippled water showed the silhouette of the naval frigate moored in the protected pool of Old Dock. Flickers of lantern light showed the ship wasn’t sleeping.
Was that a flutter of a naval flag atop the mainmast? Wrexford squinted, but the distance was too great to tell for sure.
Swiveling his gaze to the row of windowless brick buildings to his left, he saw a dull hint of light skitter through the fog. One of the far doors appeared slightly ajar. Easing a pistol from his pocket, Wrexford picked his way through the shadows toward the glow.
A muttering of voices floated out from behind the half-open door. After inching a step closer, he ventured a peek through the narrow gap between the heavy hinges.
“All is in readiness?” Despite its low pitch, the voice was instantly recognizable.
“Aye, sir,” came the reply. “Pass me the cargo by noon, and I’ll sail on the afternoon tide.”
A ghost of a laugh. “Never fear, Barton. You’ll have the precious letter of credit. And once you pass it off to our East India captain in Tenerife, this voyage will be the most profitable one ever.” A pause. “But not nearly as profitable as our other venture.”
Wrexford allowed a small smile. His guess had been right about the ringleader.You rolled the dice and chose to move the wrong pieces on the game board.
Barton cleared his throat. “I apologize again for Lieutenant Waltham’s mishandling of his mission.”
“An unfortunate bungling. But Copley’s crisis of conscience has come to naught. Thankfully, we need not fret over a filthy little urchin who was hoping to snatch money. I’ll wager that the documents have already been tossed away in some stinking alleyway, which serves our purposes just as well,” replied the ringleader. “However, incompetence in our underlings can’t be tolerated. See to it that Waltham is lost at sea before you reach Tenerife.”
“Aye, sir.” The scuff of leather on stone. “If you’ve no further orders—”
“Actually, I wish to borrow your book of navigation tables until morning.” A whisper of shuffling papers. “I’ll come with you to the ship. There are times when I miss the feel of a deck beneath my feet.”
Wrexford quickly drew back and slipped into the narrow gap between buildings.
The two men came out. A scudding of starlight sparked in the ringleader’s silvery hair as he closed the door behind him. The earl watched them turn onto one of the walkways leading through the warren of smaller storage sheds down to the wharves.
Hubris.There had been no snick of the lock and no sign of papers in the ringleader’s hands.A fatal flaw in men who think themselves so much cleverer than other mere mortals.
Holding himself in check, Wrexford remained in his hiding place, watching and waiting to be sure the area was deserted. There was no hurry. He merely needed to retrieve the sample calculations run by Lady Cordelia and the professor—he was now sure the whispery flutter had been made by the incriminating papers—and show them to Griffin.
