“I intend to very shortly.” Virden’s words sounded muffled, his mouth full of sausage, probably. Reade recognized the savory aroma. “I have a ripe pigeon ready for the plucking.”
“Better be a good one,” she snapped. “Not a turkey like the last one. Be sure they fit our requirements,” she said. “No slipups or our overseas customers will turn nasty. You can’t trust these foreigners.”
“I’ll take it in hand,” he said and chuckled.
“None of that. We must deliver our goods in the condition we found them, understand?”
“Yes,” he said, sounding resentful.
“And then turn your attention to that other matter. This tomfoolery has kept you from the plan we have for a certain young lady.”
“I don’t know why you want me to go to all that trouble,” he grumbled.
“Because he’ll pay up big, that’s why. I have it on good authority that his pockets are deep.”
“Weren’t you going to entice him to the altar? You could have his money all to yourself. Legitimately, too.”
“He’d drag me off to some backwater. I’d have to kill him to escape. He’d take years to marry me, anyway. He’s still in love with his dead wife.”
“Better than me having to pretend a passion I don’t feel. At least at your age…”
A cup crashed into its saucer. She snarled, “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You could retire on my money, put your feet up, that’s your style, isn’t it?”
“I’ll make my own.”
She sighed. “But you always think small. That’s the trouble with you. Now your stepfather, Virden, he thought big, he did.”
“Didn’t do him much good, did it? Common muck he was.”
“You’re always going on about class! We have partners to consider. Not men I fancy crossing. They’d cut your throat soon as look at you.” A chair scraped back.
Reade decided he’d pushed his luck long enough and returned the way he came.
When Johns arrived full of apologies for having slipped up, Reade left him and went in search of a hackney to take him to the inn he favored. He must then visit Whitehall to discuss the ins and outs of Rivenstock’s visit and the interesting conversation he’d just overheard. It was regrettable that they’d mentioned no names except for Rivenstock. But he was still confident they would. He’d have these two and Rivenstock watched around the clock.
It was only a matter of time before they made a wrong move. They sounded too confident, taking risks. They’d got away with it this time, but they wouldn’t again. When criminals believed they were invincible, that’s when it all fell to pieces.
Chapter Ten
At the nextball, Charlotte Graham came to sit with Jo. They watched the passing parade of renowned guests as Charlotte identified each by name. “That’s Sir Lumley St. George Skeffington, Baronet,” she murmured about a short, thin man with rouged cheeks dressed in elaborate dandy’s clothes. “And that’s the very fashionable Duke of Rutland with his wife, Elizabeth. They are talking to Viscount Petersham. Isn’t he handsome?”
“He is,” Jo dutifully responded, gazing at the gentleman with the small, pointed beard.
“Petersham is Lord of the Bedchamber to the king and is close to the Prince Regent.”
Charlotte turned to Jo with an infectious grin. “Mr. Gerald Virden came to tea yesterday. He has excellent manners. He brought my chaperone a posy of flowers from Covent Garden. Mrs. Lincoln is very pleased. She is hopeful he will offer for me.”
Virden.That was the name Reade had questioned Jo about in the garden. “I haven’t met Mr. Virden,” she said. “Can you point him out?”
Charlotte scanned the ballroom. “He rarely dances. We spoke earlier tonight in one of the reception rooms. He inquired after my chaperone’s health.” Her eyes sparkled. “He’s such a thoughtful gentleman. Mrs. Lincoln is unwell. When he invited me for a drive in his curricle to Hyde Park, she worried that she couldn’t accompany us. He was at pains to reassure her it was permissible for an unengaged couple to ride alone in an open carriage.”
“Yes, Mrs. Millet, who is very knowledgeable about such things, has said the same thing.”
Might Reade be here tonight? Would he wish to speak to Mr. Virden? He’d been so overbearing, questioning her at the rout. She didn’t see why she should be so obliging as to tell him.
“I can’t see him,” Charlotte confirmed after making a careful study of the guests. “He must have left. But I shall see him tomorrow. Mrs. Lincoln is most impressed with him.”
Jo frowned. Why was Reade so interested in this man? And why did he think her father knew him? “What is Mr. Virden like?”
