“Yes, your standards are soveryhigh,“ mocked Hammerton. “Pray, don’t waste such sniveling sentiments on me. I know you too well.” A shrug. “And besides, the plan doesn’t involve putting a bullet into her. Our weapons are merely a precaution against the unexpected.”
The seat leather crackled as he shifted his position. “As you’ve noticed, I think ahead. That is why my plans succeed.”
“When are you going to tell me the exact plan?” demanded Standish in a sulky voice.
The tip of the cigar came alight again as Hammerton drew in a mouthful of the pungent tobacco, then let it out slowly, as if savoring its spice.
“You still haven’t figured it out?” he asked, a touch of disdain in his voice. “I would have thought the letter I showed you would have made everything exceedingly easy to comprehend.”
Standish responded with a blank stare.
Hammerton heaved a mock sigh. “Ah, well, then let me explain it clearly. As you read, the letter reveals a despondentMiss Chilton, who, having been seduced and abandoned by Lord Branford, finds she can no longer live with her shame, and the disgrace she will bring to her family.”
“But Branford has withdrawn from the bet,” interrupted Standish. “How are you going to get her to …” He suddenly fell silent as his mind began to work out the implications of his cousin’s words.
“It is finally beginning to dawn on you, is it?”
Standish muttered something through the thick scarf covering his mouth.
“It won’t be dangerous at all. In fact, it should be frighteningly simple,” assured Hammerton. “She will approach us. I will go to meet her—a lone figure bent low, beckoning her to come closer to hear the information she desperately seeks. As she does, you will creep up behind her and knock her unconscious with your cudgel”
A smug smile. “What could be easier?”
Standish pursed his lips. “Then what?
“Then we’ll put her in the carriage and drive along the river until we are close enough to where the ball took place that a young lady could easily have walked there. Then the body goes into the water. And it’s done. With no possible connection to us.”
A smirk. “A street urchin will be dispatched with the letter to her aunt’s house. And I have taken care to have a well-paid hackney driver waiting by Lady Hopkinton’s townhouse. He will step forward and swear to the authorities that he saw her walking towards the river, agitated and alone, while he was waiting in hopes of being hired by one of the departing guests.” Hammerton paused. “And he will be able to describe her exactly.”
He then flashed a crocodile smile at his cousin. “Poor dear, departed Miss Chilton. Another victim of the Icy Earl. Do youtruly think that Polite Society will have anything to do with him after that? Why, he may even be forced to leave the country.”
Standish let out a low whistle of admiration. “By Jove, that’s brilliant.”
“What did you expect, cousin?” said Hammerton in a self-satisfied tone as he tapped the cigar ashes onto the floor.
Standish’s eyes mirrored the same smug certainty. Then after a moment, they narrowed in concern. “What if she doesn’t come?”
Hammerton’s eyes fell half-closed as he exhaled another cloud. “Oh, she will come. All we have to do is wait and our little pigeon will fly straight to us.”
Damnation.Branford frowned. What the devil was Miss Chilton up to now? He had arrived to the ball late—but just in time to catch the clandestine exchange between the waiter and Alex. Oh, surely she wasn’t planning anything as buffleheaded as an elopement with that pup Duckleigh? His teeth set on edge. Of all the idiotic …
But then it struck him that her face had turned pale as a ghost and her expression as she had turned and slipped from the room had been one of grave concern rather than girlish rapture.
Expelling an exasperated sigh, he left the room as well.
It wasn’t difficult to follow her. Though she had thrown up the hood of her cloak to shield her face, she didn’t bother looking back once as she hurried through the clusters of waiting carriages. Branford watched as she signaled to a hansom cab loitering on the street corner ahead, then turned and quickly made his way to where his own coach was drawn to a halt near the end of the line.
“See the hackney just pulling away from up there,” he said in a low voice to his coachman. “Follow it. Discreetly, but on no account are you to lose it.”
The fellow nodded in understanding. As soon as Branford had climbed in, he maneuvered the horses around the crush of other vehicles and set them off at a smart pace. It proved no problem to fall in behind the lumbering hackney.
Branford grew more unsettled as the hackney passed through the elegant streets of Mayfair and turned into the muddled shadows of a far less fashionable neighborhood. A swirling fog crept over the grimy buildings and a dampness in the air told him they were coming closer to the river. On more than one occasion, his coachman was forced to slow to a walk to avoid coming too close to the other carriage.
A muttered oath slipped from his lips. What the devil could Miss Chilton be up to in this neighborhood, at this hour …
His carriage lurched to a sudden halt.
“Milord,” hissed his coachman.
