“But how could the Purveyor acquire such critical intelligence?” Calliope asked. “It is not precisely an establishment that caters to nobles.”
Mr. Powys snorted. “You do realize that you nobs employ plenty of us commonfolk who are more than willing to sell your precious confidences.”
Hannah nodded. “Not to mention that the Horse and Hen may own the brothels lining the street. Plenty of nobs visit those, and they might stop by and gamble on a bloody fight too.”
“It makes sense that the Purveyor could parlay his original business into the new one. If you can’t pay for gin or if you suffer significant losses during a bet, just pay in secrets,” Eoin added as everything became clearer. “And ones that could be sold for political reasons would be the most valuable. Imagine what France would pay for intelligence about the Crown.”
“You’re right—even about the treason. There’s always French blokes pretending to be English at the Horse and Hen.” Peter’s voice was quiet and extremely hesitant, but he spoke audibly enough. His eyes remained trained downward as he scuffed at the floors with his bare toes, which stuck out from his tattered, too-small shoes.
“Well, the solution is simple,” Lord Percy said. “We alert—well, I suppose I don’t know who we alert—the Royal Guards, perhaps, or maybe the dragoons—and then we have them storm the Horse and Hen tonight.”
“With what proof?” Eoin asked. “All we have are piles of journals that no one can read and vague rumors.”
“Peter can collaborate!” Lord Percy went to touch the boy’s shoulder but immediately stopped when the youth flinched, his blue eyes wide in his pale, pinched face.
“I don’t believe that Peter would feel comfortable talking to soldiers,” Hannah gently pointed out. “And they wouldn’t listen to him either.”
“But we know the Purveyor must be one of Eoin’s uncles.” Lord Percy frowned.
“Unless they just help maintain the books.” Eoin still couldn’t believe that either Hugh or Francis could be the mastermind.
“Peter, would you feel comfortable describing the Purveyor to us?” Hannah asked. “You don’t have to tell us if you don’t wish to. We won’t get mad or punish you in any way.”
Peter glanced up at her, then away, and then up again. Gone was the defiant boy who’d tried to pick Eoin’s pocket. But Hannah and Eoin had been in Peter’s sphere then, and he’d been following the code that he’d been raised under. Now he was standing in a literal castle surrounded by ancient wealth and being asked to reveal the identity of a most likely violent man with untold criminal connections.
“Nobody sees him—at least not more than a glimpse or two.” Peter spoke haltingly, yet clearly. “Mr. Jenks is who speaks for him. I saw the Purveyor once or twice, though. He has curly blond hair and blue eyes, and he’s always surrounded by doxies.”
Shock flowed through Eoin. “That description does match either of my uncles.”
“Is that enough proof?” Lord Percy asked as he lifted his heels and then plunked them back down in an eager bounce.
“What would we even report?” Eoin asked. “It sounds toofanciful. My uncles might not be well liked in Society, but I, myself, can hardly believe what we’ve uncovered. I highly doubt I could convince others to take such drastic actions as summoning a small army.”
“Well, then, we just create our own.” Lizzie slammed her fist into her palm. “We have plenty of fighters. If they want to start a riot at the Black Sheep, then we do it at the Horse and Hen first.”
“No,” Hannah and Sophia said immediately.
“Too many people could get hurt,” Sophia said.
“We need a better plan.” Hannah began to pace rapidly around the room. “What we require is proof, and we’ll likely find it in the Horse and Hen.”
“How?” Powys asked. “It is not as if you can simply stroll inside the tavern. It is clear you’ll be recognized. In fact, any of us will likely be noticed. This Purveyor must have been gathering a great deal of information about the Black Sheep. I agree with Miss Quick’s plan. Some of my workers at the Grand would be willing to help storm the building.”
“I do not want anyone unnecessarily injured either, but a preemptive attack may be the only option. Trying to locate the Purveyor’s den would be nearly impossible in that rabbit warren of connected buildings,” Championess Quick pointed out. “I couldn’t be your guide. I barely recall the old twisting passages, and I am sure they have been modified during the past twenty years. Not to mention that any room of interest would likely be locked. The Purveyor could not have survived this long if he was not a cautious man.”
“But we have the set of keys that Charlotte found in the trunk. Perhaps they are for the Horse and Hen!” Hannah tore over to the table, where a big cast iron ring lay. Whenshe lifted it triumphantly into the air, a pleasant jangle filled the room. Although everyone else seemed skeptical, Eoin couldn’t help but feel a swell of charged energy about Hannah’s plan. He’d watched as this woman barreled her way through every social strata in order for him to discover his mother and his sister. She didn’t care about the odds; she just turned them in her favor.
“That only solves one of the issues that my mother listed,” Lizzie said, her feet spread apart as if she were participating in physical rather than verbal sparring. “Almost everyone agrees with my plan.”
“Bollocks! Bollocks! Bollocks!” Pan cried out after being unusually quiet during the entire conversation. Perhaps castles intimidated the feathered fiend.
“Well, almost everyone but the parrot,” Lizzie corrected, “which shows how bird-witted your scheme is.”
“Pan is extremely intelligent, not to mention very discerning,” Hannah replied haughtily, seeming more perturbed by the criticisms against her pet than herself.
“Although I might not agree with Hannah’s assessment of Pan,” Eoin said slowly, “I don’t believe we’ve heard all the details of what Hannah is plotting.”
At his words, Hannah glanced in his direction, and her green eyes searched his countenance. She’d been so bold in these last few minutes and exactly like the woman he’d originally met. But now he saw her hesitancy and her remorse. His support had surprised her, perhaps even touched her. But what shocked him was how much she had apparently wanted it and maybe even needed it. He wasn’t sure where they stood, but he knew one thing. In this, he believed in her.
