Danny grinned. “More like an ‘Englishwoman’s Switch.’” She planted her hands on her hips. “I gave you the signal. Twice.”
The bird calls.
Jesus, Joseph, and Mary, she was a miracle.
“But who played the fake?” Camille was too tall, Charlotte’s features were too light, and none of the women servants at Grandfellow were under the age of ancient. “Who’s left?”
Percy turned to the slumped person in blue, the body now rising to its feet in a nightmare of seamless movements, as if the clothes on its back were too big and slid along a smaller figure. His mind less frenzied, he now saw the woman’s hair was not the shade of almond and chocolate, nor her eyes the warm and honeyed gaze of his one and only love.
And when the woman finished brushing the grass and dirt from wrinkled trousers and looked up with a smug smile, Percy had no recollection of the dark-haired woman or such blue eyes that brightened with humor.
No recollection at all, until the woman spoke.
“After all we’ve been through, Your Grace, call me ‘Sydney.’”
Percy stared at the woman’s face—fair skinned, rosy cheeked, decidedlyfeminine—sure his eyes were out of their sockets. “You’re a woman?”
Syd—Sydney—Laundry smiled wolfishly. “Not as clever as you thought you were, ehh?” She nodded to Danny. “Not like your wife here.”
He’d known Syd for years, and Percy had never suspected anything but a grumpy phallus under that hooded ensemble. He adopted Syd’s favorite curse. “Fucking quims.”
Syd smiled. “Exactly.”
Somehow, Danny had uncovered the Merry leader’s secret and gotten her to agree to play dress up and risk her life on a charlatan’s con. Miracles of miracles, he rounded on his wife. “When did you find out?”
Danny ducked her head. “I had my suspicions in Charlotte’s drawing room when Camille and Renard reacted to me mentioning Syd as a ‘he.’” She shrugged. “After that, it was following my hunch and asking Syd directly in the woods.”
Syd winked. “Boldandeffective. You’d make a fine Merry.”
“She will not be involved in any gang activity.” Percy growled, still reeling. For fuck’s sake, what else had he overlooked over the years?
Syd rolled her eyes. “Not like there’s much activity anymore.” She scrunched her nose, looking reluctant to admit, “Guess we all have you to thank for the Greens falling, anyway. The Merry Men now control everything north of the Thames as far as Charing Cross.”
They’d hit the Greens at the warehouse, then. Percy gritted his teeth to keep from cursing. “That’s why you were late?” They’d risked the entire operation!
Syd showed no remorse. “Good thing, too. We stumbled upon the outer guards and took them out so that bastard couldn’t box us in or call for backup.” She eyed him like a roach under her shoe, but her expression turned to admiration as they settled again on Danny. “That’s where your lady love found me too.”
Percy’s irritation ebbed. Secrecy, tardiness, and botched positions: The only reasons none of them were currently cooling in a coroner’s office was because nothing had gone to plan. And he was an arse not to kiss the slimy wench’s feet for her role in protecting Danny.
Extending his gratitude along with his hand, Percy said, “Thank you, Syd.”
Eyeing his hand like a serpent ready to strike, Syd took it and said as rudely as ever, “You owe me, killer, and I still don’t like you.”
Percy laughed. “Noted. And the feeling is mutual.”
Danny eyedthemwith a frown. “Strangest friendship I’ve ever seen.”
“We’re not friends,” they said together.
“Ri-ight,” Danny said. “You’d think a few kind words would set the world into chaos the way you two carry on.”
Percy didn’t deny the charge. Chaos wouldn’t be the worst of it. The rest of his mind switched back on as his stomach bottomed out. “The bomb—”
“Someone called ‘Pops’ went to disarm the bomb,” Danny said. “The man appeared confident.”
Percy relaxed and nodded. “Markus was a captain for the Dragoons. The man knows his way around all kinds of nasty things. Good thing too. I’m not sure I could muster the strength and brain power to dispose of a three-ton incendiary device.”
He frowned, his mind working backwards. “But the ‘French—Englishwoman’s Switch,’” he amended at both women’s clearing throats, “is an illusion ploy. Why did you fire the gun?”
