She shuddered as a rat scuttled across the ground intent on its own pursuits. “You can leave me here, Pete.”
“You shouldna go after ’em, miss,” Pete said. He removed his hat to scratch his head. “Don’t like the looks of this ’ere place at all. They might be ark pirates, being so close to the river as they are.”
“What are ark pirates?”
“Those who rob an’ plunder on the river, miss. Anyways, there’s something smoky goin’ on behind that door.”
“Go, if you’d rather.” She reached into her pocket and drew out some coins for him, dismayed at how much her hand shook.
“Hold on a bit,” Pete said, deep furrows forming in his brow in the light from the lantern he held. “I didna say I’d leave, did I? You might be a bit dicked in the nob, but you ain’t short of pluck, and I ain’t about to cast you to the birds of a feather in that there place. I’ll stay ’til your friends show up, that I will.”
Relieved, she smiled gratefully at him. “Thank you, Pete. I’ll go and see if I can hear what’s being said.”
“Not sure you should, but you be careful, miss.”
“I will.”
She picked her way down the lane toward the warehouse, edging around a stinking and rotting animal corpse on the ground. The mist thickened, extinguishing all light. She faltered, unable to see the way. Distant sounds reached her, echoing through the fog. Was it a carriage? She stood still, unsure whether to return to the hackney. Had Pete decided to leave after all? Moving closer, light flickered around an ill-fitting door at the side of the warehouse. She crept forward and placed an eye to the crack. She could make out only blurred movement in the flickering candlelight and the indistinct hum of voices. Frustrated, she hesitated. Should she go and find Lord Strathairn?
An arm around her waist pulled her backward off her feet. A smothering hand covered her mouth and nose, clamping down on her scream.
*
Guy was convincedthey’d lost Strathairn when he and Forney left by the rear of the hotel. He looked around the bare candlelit warehouse at the dozen men who stood to greet him. They had been sitting at a table drinking brandy. Heavy curved wooden ribs marched across the ceiling like the inside of a whale’s belly. An anchor propped against a wall alongside a pile of fishing nets. The strong smell of rotten fish lingered in the air.
“Please take off your coat, baron,” Forney said, hanging his on a peg near the door.
Guy did the same, ruing the fact that his new gun was in the pocket. He fought to appear calm as he greeted each man around the table. So far, none had questioned his authenticity. Whenever a man eyed him, however, saliva dried in his mouth and his heart banged against his ribs. Despite John’s instruction, he was poorly prepared for this dangerous gamble. One question could strip him bare.
The last man in the room to be introduced was a Monsieur Delany, a short, dark-haired man with shifty brown eyes.
Delany leaned forward and shook Guy’s hand. “Baron, it’s good to see you again. We met that memorable night before Napoleon escaped from Elba.”
Every muscle in his body tense, Guy forced himself to smile and speak warmly. “Oui. It is good to see you again, Delany.”
“Your contribution to Napoleon’s escape was the result of great cunning,” Delany said.
Away from the halo of light cast by the candles on the table the rest of the room lay in shadow. Guy stepped back and turned his head to hide the absence of a scar. When had Vincent been wounded? Did these men know of it?
“We are eager for you to lend your astute advice to this new plan, Baron.”
“I am eager to do so.”
Forney handed him a glass of French brandy. “Raise your glasses, gentlemen. We toast our future success.”
Guy tossed back the liquor and welcomed the burn sliding down his tight throat.
“I’ve thought long and hard about where we strike, and when,” Forney said. “We must learn from mistakes of the past. If Fawkes had been better prepared, King James, his family, and the aristos would be no more.”
“That was because the schemer Francis Tresham gave them away!” Delany said, his gaze around the room ferocious.
Forney rubbed at the deep grooves on his forehead. “Today, it is even more difficult, for the palace is searched by the yeomen of the guard before every state opening of parliament. We need the element of surprise like the successful assassination of Spencer Perceval in the lobby of the House of Commons.”
“I vote we assassinate the cabinet when they’re all together and establish a Committee of Public Safety to oversee a radical revolution,” said the Frenchman, Robillard.
“I should think many would thank us if we shot Liverpool,” offered Diprose, a fair-haired Englishman.
A ripple of amusement passed through the room.
