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He grinned in relief. “Very good. I’ll see you soon.” He crossed the room and kissed her softly. She broke it off, reminding him they needed every moment of the day. Reluctantly Nate left, but as soon as he closed her door, his steps quickened. They did need every moment of this day. And as they drove to the docks, he explained to Prince how he was changing the plan.

* * *

It took longer than expected, but the results were also better than Nate had hoped. Jacob Dixon had deposited jewels and funds in a handful of banks around the City, and he didn’t seem interested in quick and speedy visits. Dixon wanted to enjoy the flattery of the bankers who regretfully relinquished jewel cases and, in one case, a bag of gold coins. Nate did what he could, but the value of the recovered items kept his temper at bay somewhat. As jewels and gold piled up in his valise, Nate realized Dixon hadn’t spent much of his stolen hoard. There would be a great deal of money to return, probably enough to redeem the pledges Ben had made. At least Dixon had put his head for money to good use. That, along with the signed confession from the thief, should be enough to clear Ben’s name.

“I trust you’ve remarked my considerable cooperation,” Dixon said when they were on their way back to the ship.

Nate nodded. “Yes. I appreciate how you’ve spared me the trouble of shooting you.”

Dixon inched away from him in the hackney. “Always violence…”

“It wasn’t how I intended to proceed, but given the altered circumstances, I believe I’ve gone to remarkable effort to protect you.” Nate gave him a cold look. “It may have made me a trifle testy at times, for which I do apologize.”

He returned Dixon to the ship’s brig and had a last word with the captain and Prince before returning to Varden Street, where he found Angelique at her desk.

“Did all go well? Is everything in readiness?” she asked when he came in. Nate nodded, and she sighed in relief. “I was just about to have Lisette take it.” She held out the note she had written.

Nate glanced at the note, promising Lord Selwyn news of a most urgent nature relating to Mr. Jacob Dixon if he applied to John Stafford at Bow Street at his earliest convenience. “What if he doesn’t go?”

“Lisette will wait to see if he does and send word to all of us.”

He handed back the letter. “You’re ready, then.” Her dress didn’t look different than usual, but it was the light blue one he’d seen laid out on her bed when he left with Dixon.

She put one hand against her bodice, just below her left breast. “It was cold at first, but I barely feel it now.”

His eyes fixed on the spot. It didn’t look remarkable in any way—thank goodness. “We could just shoot Stafford and Selwyn, then run.”

“Do not be ridiculous.” She rose. “We would never make it out of London alive.”

She was right and he knew it. “Send the note,” he told her. “Let’s be done with this.”

* * *

Angelique rang the bell at the narrow boardinghouse, keeping her eyes fixed on the door. The landlady rented rooms by the hour, mostly to prostitutes whose customers wanted a bit more privacy than an alley off Covent Garden offered. Angelique knew her well, having often found herself in need of a private room for an hour here and there. When the woman opened the door, Angelique simply said, “A shilling an hour, if the room overlooks the street,” and the landlady nodded curtly, showing her up to a small dingy room. The bed was barely wide enough for one, and the windows were grimy with dirt, but they did overlook the street.

She laid her cloak across the bed and drew the shabby curtains almost closed, opening one window a few inches to allow her to hear as well as see. From this angle, she had a clear view of the front of the Bow Street Magistrates office.

Now she only had to wait.

She tried not to let herself think of Nate. His role in this was almost concluded. This morning he’d collected whatever remained of the stolen funds. Everything of his was on his ship, including Dixon, safely hidden on board. Even the tide was right. At a moment’s notice, Nate was ready to sail.

She was glad for that, even though it would mean she didn’t see him again for some time. He had got far more than he bargained for in London, but he hadn’t flinched from a single challenge—including those she threw at him herself. In spite of herself, Angelique’s thoughts drifted to the sensual memory of Nate’s lips on hers, his hands on her skin, her name on his tongue.

Until a glossy black carriage stopped in front of Bow Street, and a tall dark man with a long nose stepped down.

* * *

Nate was waiting by the kitchen door when the knock came. “Half an hour, sir,” said the ragged street boy who stood there.

“Good work.” Nate flipped him a pair of shillings, and the lad was gone the instant his fingers closed on the coins. Nate pulled on his coat, the same ill-fitting brown coat he’d worn to Stafford’s office that first time, just a few weeks ago. He glanced around the Varden Street kitchen for the last time, checking off things in his mind to ensure nothing had been forgotten. Then he let himself out and closed the door.

* * *

Ian had just poured another tot of whisky into Phipps’s glass when the sound of the outer door reached his ears. Slowly he closed his flask and set it aside, listening. “Someone’s come to make a report,” he said, gesturing to the door. “I’ll leave you to it.”

“That would be best,” Phipps agreed, gulping down the whisky and hiding the glass in a drawer. “Off with you, Wallace.”

Ian took his time getting to his feet and collecting his coat. He’d been sitting here with Phipps for over an hour, freely sharing his whisky, but now dawdled until footsteps passed the door. “Eh, must have been mistaken,” he said with a wink at Phipps. “Or someone’s not reporting to you.”