Page 26 of Thief Taker

Kit smiled into Nero’s soft mane. “How was your head this morning?”

“Better than yours, I imagine.” He frowned. “You look grim, Kit. What’s wrong?”

“Aside from my brother throwing Ashbourne away at the gaming table?” Kit ran his hands over Nero’s flank.

Hartwell huffed. “Aside from that, yes.”

Heavy silence filled the space between them. Hartwell knew better than anyone the pain of losing a home, of having property snatched away unjustly, and Kit hoped that meant he’d understand the risk Kit was taking to save his own home. “There’s something I need to tell you,” he said.

“About what?”

“I…have a new valet.”

“Good for you, I suppose.” He sounded unimpressed. “Why should I care?”

“Because he’s…” Kit hesitated, but he had to tell Hartwell; they were partners in this. “He’s also the man who nearly caught me at The Red Lion.”

Hartwell stilled, his eyes shadows in the night. “How the devil is he your valet?”

“He’s a thief taker, I think. I suspect he’s insinuated himself into my household because he’s looking for evidence of Wessex. Of course, he’ll find none at Curzon Street.”

“Unless he’s followed you tonight!” Hartwell hissed, gesturing at the dark trees all around them. “He could be out there with half of Bow Street. For the love of God, Kit, what are you thinking? Throw him out of your house. Better still, throw him into the damned Thames!”

“No. You’re not thinking.”

“I’m not thinking?” Hartwell’s voice rose. “He’s a threat to us both, Kit!”

“Maybe…”

“There’s no ‘maybe’ about it.”

“Listen.” Kit stepped closer, lowering his voice. “He doesn’t know I recognised him—that gives me the advantage. I can use him, manipulate him.”

“To what end? Will you manipulate him into forgetting he saw you at The Red Lion?”

“I don’t think he did see me.”

“But—?”

Kit shushed him with a gesture. “If he was certain, he wouldn’t be bothering with this masquerade. I think he has a suspicion. And I plan to direct his suspicions elsewhere.” Kit paused, undecided about whether to share his plan. “Towards Marlborough.”

Hartwell’s expression was difficult to read, but his posture was tense and unhappy. “You mean to imply Marlborough is Wessex? Impossible.”

“Why?” Reaching into Nero’s saddlebag, Kit pulled out the scarf and battered cocked hat he wore for this business and began wrapping the scarf around his mouth and nose. “Cole’s already offered to help me look into James’s dealings with him.”

After a telling pause, Hartwell said, “What?”

“He’s going to—”

“You told him your brother’s in debt to Marlborough?” Nero started stepping anxiously at Hartwell’s sharp tone and Kit had to grab the reins to calm him. “Have you lost your mind? That points suspicion directly at you. It’s enough to—”

“He already knew,” Kit snapped. “It’s hardly a secret, is it? Half of London probably knows. Besides, Hal Foxe sent one of his bravos with a cudgel to menace James, and Cole—” He had a sudden image of Cole stepping forward to protect him. “Cole knew the man. Knew he’d been sent by Foxe.”

Hartwell sucked in a quiet breath. “If your brother’s in hock to Hal Foxe, he must be desperate.”

“Cole thinks Marlborough drove him to it.”

“Cole thinks? Cole’s a damned thief taker, Kit. And you, in case it slipped your addled mind, are a damned thief!”