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“He could have read it in the newspapers,” said Nate at last.

“Ten years is a long time to remember a tragic boating accident, and then connect it so quickly to the name Selwyn when you mentioned it.”

“He could bear Selwyn a grudge for some other reason.”

“He could.” Angelique folded the note and slipped it into her reticule, along with Harry’s handkerchief. “He could be the most brilliant liar I’ve ever seen. But short of finding this missing Lady Selwyn and presenting her in the House of Lords like Banquo’s ghost, I do not think we will find better proof.”

“No,” he agreed quietly. “I don’t think we will.”

“It is what I expected,” she said. “I have not decided what to do next, but I was prepared for this.”

Nate rapped on the carriage roof to signal the driver to stop. His fingers closed around hers. “I’m glad to hear that.” He helped her down from the hackney and paid the driver. They were on the edge of St. James’s Park, still some distance from Varden Street. Angelique tucked the veil from her bonnet into her reticule, glad to feel the sun on her face for a few minutes.

“Let’s walk a bit,” he said, tucking her hand around his arm. It was early and the park wasn’t crowded.

“What I do not know is how to handle Stafford,” she said. “He is the real concern, not Selwyn.”

Nate smiled grimly. “I completely agree. And I have an idea how to do it.”

Chapter Thirty-Four

Ian sized up Jacob Dixon with a long glance. “So you’re the one who’s stirred up such a fuss.”

Dixon stared back at Ian with mingled horror and indignation. “I certainly have not done,” he said, even though he flinched every time Ian moved. “I was s-simply going about my business…”

“Stealing, lying, fleeing the country, then more lying,” interjected Nate. “We know what you’ve been up to. But in spite of it all, we’ve come to make you an offer of clemency.”

Dixon kept his eyes fixed fearfully on Ian, still standing over him in menace. Today Ian wore all black, from the tall leather boots that shook the floor when he walked to the greatcoat that swirled around him like a shroud. It only made his red hair more alarming, especially all ruffled and spiky as it was now from having shoved his hands through it so many times.

Angelique wondered what had got into him, showing up dressed that way in response to her summons. She suspected it had been Nate he expected to cow—as if that would happen. But she had to admit Jacob Dixon was more tractable in a state of perpetual terror, so she said nothing as Ian paced in front of the man several times before finally dropping into one of the chairs they had brought up to the attic.

From where he lounged in another chair, Nate watched only Dixon’s face. His eyes cool and shuttered, he looked to Angelique even more dangerous than Ian. Ian was a growling dog, hair on end and teeth bared. Nate was a viper, coiled and silent but waiting to strike.

Jacob Dixon looked between the three of them and didn’t seem to know where his best chance lay. “My good man,” he said at last, appealing to Nate. “Perhaps we could have this discussion privately.”

“No,” said Nate evenly. “Because this is not only my idea.” Even though it was, almost entirely. Angelique never would have come up with it herself, and it wasn’t something Ian would do, either. But she’d agreed to it, so she kept her face impassive and let Nate do things his way.

“I came to England in search of justice,” Nate said, still watching the thief like a hawk would a field mouse. “My charge, and only goal, was to find you, sir, and return you to face the man you ruined and the country you swindled. And before you accuse me of lawlessness myself”—he smiled thinly, for Dixon had opened his mouth—“let me add that I carried a letter of introduction from President Monroe himself, setting out exactly what I’ve just told you. General Davies is a decent, heroic man, and Monroe is aware of what our country owes him. He approved wholeheartedly of what I meant to do.

“Now, I would have been perfectly content to track you down like an animal and drag you back to New York in chains, but the President asked me to use diplomatic channels—discreetly, of course. That led me to Lord Selwyn, who was deeply outraged and most solicitous upon hearing my story. Of course this vile criminal must be apprehended, he told me. He sent me to another man, who in turn promised to provide assistance in capturing you. Unfortunately, it appears Lord Selwyn also gave him another charge.”

“To murder me!” cried Dixon. His face had turned alternately red and pale. “He wants you to kill me—we’ve already discussed this!” He thrust out his chained hands, pointing at Angelique. “You swore you wouldn’t let her do it, and in return I promised to cooperate with you!”

“True.” Nate’s voice hadn’t altered; it remained flat and relentless. “And so far you’ve done precious little in that regard.”

Sweat beaded on Dixon’s lip. “What do you want?” he protested. “You knew about Hurst. You have my baggage. Unless you plan to unchain me, I don’t see what else I can do!” Nate just looked at him until Dixon swallowed, a loud gulping sound in the quiet attic. “What?” he cried. “Tell me what you want!”

Slowly Nate leaned forward. The old wooden chair creaked loudly, and Dixon flinched. “I want to propose a bargain,” Nate said quietly. He rested one elbow on his knee and cocked his head. “Are you interested?”

Without a sound Dixon nodded.

“Good. As I see it, I have three choices. The first choice: I do as I meant to do originally and carry you back to New York to stand trial, publicly clearing General Davies of guilt for your theft. You’ll go to prison for a very long time, of course, but that’s no more than you deserve.

“The second choice: Prison might be too good for you. I cut my losses, recover as much of the stolen money as I can, and sail back to New York. It turns out there are some Englishmen who take a particular interest in you, and I could hand you over to them and be wished Godspeed on my way home. New York will be disappointed not to have your blood, but they’ll have the money, which is far more valuable. I assure you, my conscience wouldn’t suffer at all.”

“What is the third?” Dixon whispered when Nate lapsed into silence. “I must say I prefer the first choice, though, by a generous margin. Selwyn will not be merciful, sir, you know what I told you about him!”

“The third choice,” Nate went on, “is the most difficult. I shall have to surrender something very important to me, my companions will have to sacrifice a great deal, but you… You shall be better off than under either of the previous choices…in some ways.”