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Inside, his eyes met Angelique’s across Dixon’s slumped figure. “Thank you,” he said simply.

And she smiled, that real smile of honest feeling. “It was my pleasure.”

* * *

In Varden Street, the driver helped them get Dixon down. Angelique paid the driver before closing the door while Nate hauled Dixon up the stairs into the attic room where Prince had recently had his laboratory. They had removed everything from it in preparation, and now Nate dragged his limp burden to the hearth. He took a chain running through a ring fixed in the brick and looped it through the manacles he placed around Dixon’s wrists, and padlocked it. Then he took off his coat and sat down to wait for Dixon to wake.

Dixon had begun stirring a few times during the drive, and Nate had put his hand back over his face each time, keeping him unconscious. But within a few minutes of being locked up, he started coming around. Nate fetched a glass of water and tossed it in his face. Dixon jerked and scrambled away, swiping at his face. The chains brought him up short, and he went still. As he blinked awake, his eyes darted about the room and finally settled on Nate.

“How dare you,” he began shrilly. “This— You— Help!” he cried. “Murder! Help! Save me from these ruffians!”

Nate grinned at him as his cries echoed in the silent house. “I’m not going to murder you.”

Dixon changed tactics. “You have no authority to hold me like this! This is kidnapping. They’ll hang you!”

“I have a good enough authority,” Nate told him. “That iron chain around your wrists, for one. Be glad it’s only kidnapping—for now.”

Dixon shook himself like a wet bird. “I know who you are! You’re one of those bloody Americans.”

“Of course I am. No secret there. But unless you’re even more worthless than I thought, not every American is out to get you, Mr. Dixon.” He leaned forward to hang the lantern on a nail above Dixon’s head. “So, make a guess why exactly I’ve got you here.”

Dixon managed to look highly affronted, even though he had flinched at the sound of his true name. “Thievery, no doubt! You and your so-called wife intend to steal my jewel collection. I knew there was something wrong about you both, the instant I saw you.”

Nate gave him a flat smile. “You weren’t alarmed enough to keep away from the chance to turn a pretty profit—or from peering down her gown.”

“Why should I ignore a fine pair of dugs when I see them?” Dixon wrestled with the chain again. “Tell me what you want. The sapphires? I’ll—I’ll pay a ransom.”

“All of it,” said Nate softly.

Dixon’s eyes darted from side to side, but when he looked up, he wore an impatient scowl. “All of what?”

“All the money you embezzled from the Port of New York.” Nate savored every trace of guilt that flashed over the other man’s face. He’d waited months for this moment. He leaned back in the chair, folding his arms across his chest. “You stole a great deal of money, Mr. Dixon, and left an innocent man to suffer for your crime. That is a sin—and also a crime.”

“How dare you accuse me?” Dixon raised his chin defiantly. “Lies!”

“We’ll let the court decide.”

Dixon breathed hard for a moment. “You have no proof,” he said at last.

“I have proof,” Nate assured him. “Or rather, the prosecutor in New York has it.”

“You can’t take me to New York,” exclaimed Dixon, but his color faded. “I am an Englishman!”

“The British don’t mind letting you go. Did you think I was fool enough to waltz into a foreign country and track you down without permission?” He would have done it, if necessary, but as it happened, he hadn’t. Nate was feeling much better about that decision now that he had his quarry bagged and trussed like a hog bound for market. “The Foreign Office as well as the Home Office knows what I’m about. Lord Selwyn offered every possible assistance in hunting you down. You have no friends here, Dixon.”

“Selwyn?” Suddenly Dixon’s outraged tantrum ended. His eyes grew round and his mouth sagged open in surprise. “The Earl Selwyn?”

“That’s the one.”

Dixon was quiet for several minutes. Nate could almost hear him thinking, and from the tense expression on his face, it was a stark reevaluation of his situation. “How did you come to discuss me with him?” he asked, trying too obviously to keep any trace of tension from his voice.

“He’s deputy to the Colonial Secretary, who received President Monroe’s request for aid very willingly. He, too, was appalled by your treachery. An old friend of yours?” Nate asked with a smirk. Selwyn hadn’t shown any hesitation in setting Stafford and his agent on Dixon, beyond expressing a desire to keep the distasteful affair quiet, in the interests of diplomatic stability.

“Rather the opposite,” Dixon murmured, and lapsed back into silence. Nate glanced at him curiously, then shrugged it off. He didn’t really care what Selwyn’s motives were. He had his man and he was getting him out of England, as soon as possible.

“Where is the woman—your alleged wife?” Dixon asked politely. “She is not from America, I believe, yet she helped you bring me here.”

“She’s nearby.”