“Was he the man you handed the letter to, boy?”
The boy, maybe seven, shook his head, displacing a hat that must’ve belonged to an older brother. “No, miss. Was not what ya told me. I asked fur the lord o’ the house, like ya said. Fella who got the note were dressed better, with scary, blue peepers.”
Hamish.
She nodded and offered the boy a precious crown from her savings for his good work and told him to run along. When his frayed coat vanished down the lane, she turned back to the man.
His amused grin pulled the expertly applied facial hair on his cheek. “Quite the fortune ya gave ’im, miss. Not likely ta forget yer kindness, neither.”
“What’s your real name?” she asked.
The man’s hesitation was but a fraction. “Ralph be me name.”
Camille wouldn’t acknowledge the man’s accent was identical to the boy’s. Why Hamish would employ a conman was not a question she needed answered at this moment. He had dealings in the rookeries; she’d seen it firsthand. That was his business. Stopping murders was hers.
“We best be off, miss,” the man,Ralph, said.
She glanced over at her mother, who watched the exchange through glazed eyes, too far in her cups to ask where they were going.
Camille swallowed, knowing the trip would be a hard one for her mother, and the destination... like throwing grease on the range.
She glanced up and down the empty street. “Where is your carriage?”
“Round the corner. Did’n wan to cause a fuss out ’ere in the open.”
At least the man’s sense of secrecy was better than his prosthetics. “Lead the way.”
The door to the Prodding Pony opened and Madam stepped out into the alley with her ‘Mistress of the Dungeon’ mask firmly in place.
“You will go nowhere until we’ve spoken.” She nodded to Ralph. “You, take the woman’s mother into the first room on theleft and do not leave until you are summoned. And you,” she said to Camille. “My office. Now.”
*
Madam closed thesecret door behind them and threw Camille’s note at her feet. “What the hell is this? I return to my office after being informed I must find a new driver, as my most recent hire just quit without notice, and find papers shoved in drawers, chairs upturned, andthat.” She sneered at the note. “With that shady character loitering outside. I’d thought you were taken hostage, the way this place was ransacked.”
Camille’s cheeks burned. The officewasa mess. She hadn’t considered what her hasty actions would appear like to an unsuspecting third party. “I apologize, Madam. I need to leave... for personal reasons.” She wouldn’t speak of Renard or share any of her fears. “I’ve decided to take my mother and get her the care she needs.”
“You’re a worse liar than I am, Angel. I know why you’re leaving—don’t say a word.”
Camille closed her mouth watching Madam’s gaze flicker to where the ledger was hidden.
Sheknew.
Camille dropped all pretenses. Her voice when she spoke was low, tired. “All that work to keep me away from him. Why didn’t you just tell me or turn him in?”
“For your sake. I may be old and jaded, but I know love when I see it.”
Camille looked away, heart in her throat. “You know what he’s done, but you don’t know why.”
“The why hardly matters, not if you’re leaving anyway,” Madam said, her gaze downright anguished—a trick of the firelight; the woman cared for nothing and no one.
A philosophy Camille would need to adopt in the coming days.
“Please,” Camille said, taking the letter for Renard from her reticule and handing it to the other woman. “Give him that, and he won’t hurt anyone else. If I go, he will stop.” She knew it in her gut. “I will run as long and as far as it takes. My brother—the Duke of Camine will help.”
“You will tell him your suspicions? You are aware the Duke of Camine and the Duke of Lux are childhood friends?”
She hadn’t been. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll be careful.”
