“Barbie,” he choked.
“I love you,” she blurted, her tone almost frantic. “I should have told you, Kenneth, I am sorry—I love you, and even if this has just been a wager for you?—”
“Ye were never just a wager,” he croaked, taking a stumbling step toward her. “I—Christ, woman, I love ye, how can ye doubt?—”
“That’s far enough,” the ringleader barked, digging the pistol into Barbara’s side and causing Kenneth to halt his mindless, instinctual attempts to reach her. “This whole thing has gone far enough.”
Kenneth froze, eyeing the man, considering his next move. But Barbara’s reaction was strange—she gasped, then stiffened, trying to twist in the man’s hold.
The bastard seemed to pierce Kenneth with his glare, although it was difficult to tell under that cloth bag he wore. “This declaration of love is touching, and I would say I’m pleased to be present for it, butyouare an added complication, Sir Kenneth.” He began to pull Barbara backward around the desk.“Miss Fokette and I are going to walk out of her library and down the stairs, and you are going to let me out the front door. Once I am safely away, you two can get back to your romance.”
Kenneth wanted to nail this arsehole, but was confident he could get confessions out of the two henchmen, and was desperate to protect Barbara. So he nodded along, knowing he’d take out the leader if—when—given the opportunity. All he said was, “Aye, aye of course,” as he stepped back, pretending to give the man the room he needed.
Barbara, however, didn’t get the silent message about going along with the bastard to stay safe.
She had turned about, even as he hustled her toward the door and, heedless of the pistol pressed to her side, reached clumsily for the cloth over the man’s head.
“Barb—” Kenneth began, wanting to warn her against revealing the man’s identity, but she was determined.
With one yank the cloth came off, and she gasped. “Iknewit!”
Kenneth could only gape.
Mr. Niklaus Sinter, whose bushy white beard and normally twinkling eyes had been revealed, glared at both of them. “I wish you hadn’t done that, my dear.” He jostled her into movement. “Now I’ll have to kill you both.”
“You will not kill us.” Barbara’s voice shook with false bravado. “Y-You are my mentor. My friend?—”
“Yes, but now you’re a witness.” He had edged them both around the fallen bodies of his henchmen, and now the chaise, on their way toward the door. Kenneth slowly turned to face them. “I can’t allow you to live.”
“We willnae tell anyone,” Kenneth lied. “Let her go and ye can walk away, Sinter.”
“And have you send the Bow Street Runners to my home?”
Desperate to convince him, Kenneth offered a charming grin and held his hands at his side, right hand twisted to keep the knife hidden. “Who’s going to believe me, eh? An upstanding citizen like ye, the head of a counterfeiting ring? Ye’re a scholar, no’ anartist.”
But to his surprise, Sinter’s expression darkened. “Do you know how hard it is to build canopic jars from scratch? I know every inch of those things,I have studiedthem more than any other scholar alive.” He jerked Barbara toward the door, his eyes spitting rage as his mouth spat…well, spit. “I have learned to reproduce those things so carefully, none of the witless collectors,expertsthey call themselves, even realized their antiquities have been replaced.”
Kenneth nodded to his woman, unable to keep the pride from his voice as he pointed out, “Barbara did. Ye couldnae get the patina quite right, could ye? Yer best student saw through it—literally.”
The white-bearded man scoffed. “Another reason to kill you both.”
Fook, Kenneth shouldn’t have boasted about her. “I’m the one ye want—take me instead?—”
“Why in theworldwould I want you as a prisoner?” Sinter sneered. “I’ve seen the way you took out my men. Clearly you’re not the helpless rake you’ve been portraying.”
“He is an agent of the Home Office,” Barbara announced proudly, her wide blue gaze trusting as she smiled across the room. “Kenneth can do anything.”
“And you love him, yes, yes, very touching.” Sinter’s lips tugged into a frown. “That means you know about the fire and the rumors I started about the treason and Fondlet’s wife?”
Well, aye, Kenneth did…but not until about fifteen minutes ago. If Sinter killed him tonight, the Home Office would have no proof. So he lifted his chin and tried to appear as confidentas possible as he lied. “The Home Office kens itall, Sinter. But none of it is as serious as murder. Surrender now, and the worst things we have on ye is housebreaking and ring-leading.”
Barbara, bless her, grasped what Kenneth was trying to do.
“He is right.” Nodding, she twisted to blink innocently up at her one-time mentor. “You truly are talented—your forgeries are works of art in themselves. You could argue you broughtvalueto their collections.”
It was bullshite, but it wasgoodbullshite.
Sinter hummed thoughtfully, beady eyes darting about the room as if looking for a debate…or escape. “I suppose I could say that. I mean, I earned twice that by selling the originals, but the material the forgeries took were expensive, and of course the time…”
