“Prinny is the most unpredictable man on the planet. With the possible exception of his father.”
“Who is mad.”
“Well, there is that. I’m sure he asked, and Lord Anthony would never have lied or misled him”
Judith took a deep breath, relishing the fresh air tinged with the light scents of the summer flowers that stretched along the manicured pathways of the garden. They sat on a stone bench near the edge of one path, the sounds of the ball wafting over them, blending with echoes from the street and the dozens of carriages waiting for the festivities to end. Mark remained silent as she listened, a sense of pure despair settling over her. “It’s all for naught.” Her voice grated. “We are lost.”
He cupped her hand in his, the warmth of his palms oddly soothing to her entire being. “Possibly not.” His words seemed equally calming. “Prinny’s words were a sound caution—”
“Which will infuriate Atkinson. Make him more evil and determined.”
“If there is proof of the blackmail . . .”
“There is not. A man approached Edmund outside that... establishment in the Strand. A lad from the Rookeries picks up the payments, but he is merely a runner. He has no information. Believe me. I tried.”
Mark straightened. “That is correct. No actual proof of the vase’s theft exists either. Or Edmund’s visits.”
“If the men there talk—”
“They will not. That has been handled.”
She peered at him, fighting a sense of relief. “You took care of it?”
He grinned and stood tugging her to her feet. “Of course I did. The men who visit, who work there, all make their way to At Wheel’s End. Offering unlimited credit to the ones who saw him closes many a mouth.” He looked around, then leaned overto kiss her forehead. “Come with me. I have an idea about where Atkinson went.”
“But how—why—”
“Enraged men often make horrific mistakes out of their anger. If he wants to wreak vengeance on Edmund for what he thinks is a royal slight, he will probably up the ante.”
“By doing what?”
“Think about it. If you think someone who you’ve been extorting is suddenly protected from that extortion, what is your next move?”
She blinked. “I do not—”
“You would want to prove them guilty.” Gripping her hand tightly, Mark headed toward a gate at the back of the garden.
“Where are we going?”
He pushed through the gate, then began weaving them through the carriages lined up on Davies Street. “Your home. I think Prinny had in mind. He does not like people who wish to worm their way into the aristocracy. He is all about the birthright. He probably believes he can prompt Atkinson into revealing himself.”
Judith, still a bit confused and lightheaded, trotted along behind him, trying to regain her bearings. Although only a few blocks lay between the two houses, she could feel her silk slippers begin to tatter against the rough pavement by the time they reached the front of Sculthorpe Manor where they came to a dead stop, staring at the commotion. A cluster of men mingled before the house and the front door had swung wide open. Inside, backlit by the chandelier in the entrance hall, their butler and Epworth stood, each holding what looked like a fireplace implement. In front of them was the Bow Street Runner, Jeremy Smith, who scribbled on a piece of foolscap with his short but ubiquitous pencil.
Mark took Judith’s arm, urging her forward, as one of the sidewalk men approached them. “Sorry, folks—”
Awareness surged through Judith, and she broke free from Mark, shoving the man back. “This is my house. Get the hell out of my way.” She picked up her skirts and raced up the steps, confronting Smith. “What happened?”
The three stared at her, silent for a moment, then Smith acknowledged her with a nod. “Lady Sculthorpe.”
“Why are you here?”
Smith glanced over her shoulder at Mark, who had followed her up the steps. “As we discussed, we had men waiting outside the Blackwells’, expecting Atkinson to make a move after the supper. But one of Lord Blackwell’s footmen came out with the suggestion that the move might take place sooner rather than later. Which it did. They sent an alert to me, then followed him to a warehouse, where he picked up a package and came here. He broke in through the servants’ quarters but met with some resistance before we could stop him.” He nodded at Epworth and the butler.
Epworth’s chin went up. “We were waiting the family’s return. The villain apparently thought we would be asleep with the family out. But he was not as quiet as he tried to be.”
Mark looked down at the poker in her hand. “Is that blood?”
Judith followed his gaze, her hand coming to her mouth.
