Page 22 of A Pearl Possessed

Derek shoved his fingers through his hair and acted as if he wanted to howl into the fog moving in on a breeze from the river.

Col took a deep breath and grasped the man by his shoulder, squeezing hard. "Stand fast, man. This is the only way we'regoing to find out what the damned blackmailer wants and buy you and those poor women some more time."

The earl leaned over, his hands on his knees for a few minutes and then straightened. "Let's do this." He trotted off in the direction of a wider street. Col fell in behind him, racing to keep up with the tall earl's strides. With any luck, they might find another hack. The fog was moving in, but it was still early enough that cabbies wouldn't abandon the cutpurse streets north of the bridge.

The old bridge was still standing while construction banged on for the new one. If memory served Col correctly, Pepper Alley Stairs were just to the south side and west of the bridge.

Once they hailed a hack on St. Katharine's Way, Col settled back into the stiff squabs and went over some things buzzing at the back of his head. Why had the blackmailer gone to such lengths to hide his identity and intent? He must have an urgent reason for them not to know who he was. In his experience, many blackmailers were brazen and didn't care whether their victims knew them or not. They had something their gulls didn't want the rest of the world to know and they wanted to be compensated for their silence. He'd actually acted as mediary in a number of cases where people begged him to deal with unsavory characters.

This case was different in an ugly way, though. This bastard wanted money to ensure the safety of the innocent women the earl had taken on as his mistresses. This was more of a protection scheme that he'd usually seen practiced by the gangs in Whitechapel or over in Southwark. Those ruffians never cared who saw them. They'd never go to such extremes to hide their identities.

Derek stirred next to him in the narrow, open hack. "I hope to God this is the last mad dash this miserable thief sends us along. I feel like an idiot letting him lead us around by the nose."

Col gave him a wry look. "Says the man who's crazy enough to keep five mistresses."

11

9September, 1826

Somewhere North of Grosvenor Street

Dickie was in a state he rarely found himself in. He was confused. Just when he'd thought his task to keep Adrienne safe was simple. All he had to do was lurk around the taverns on streets nearby expensive Grosvenor Square. Surely he'd be able to mingle with the servants from the great houses on their days off and pick up some useful gossip about what was going on in Ormonde's town mansion.

Just when he thought he was the hound, and the marquess's minions were the foxes, they'd turned the game around on him. Suddenly, he was sure he was being followed. Someone wanted to know what he was doing. They didn't seem to mean him harm, but every time he hid along one of the side streets down the steps to a townhouse coal bin, the same two men would pass by pretending to be taking the air. He knew better. They were dressed way better than the low-life pickpockets he could identify with his eyes shut. They looked like they could be themarquess's men, but he'd be damned if he could figure out what they wanted.

Dickie rounded the corner at Norfolk and Green Streets and headed to the Cock and Crow. He'd take a look round and maybe have one of their savory meat pies, he'd... That was the last thing he remembered before waking up in the servants' quarters in the marquess's Grosvenor Square mansion.

"Cor, what do you coves want?" Dickie rubbed at the small knot forming at the back of his head.

"That's exactly what we were thinking of makingyoutellus." The young man spewing the threats looked a lot like the old marquess, only about thirty or more years younger. The other man resembled someone Dickie knew well, but the pain in his head from the tap by one of the bastards kept him too muzzy to work out who he looked like.

9 September,1826

Pepper Alley Stairs, the Thames

Derek could barely see his hand in front of his face, yet to please the blackmailer, they'd had to count down exactly 20 steps and then crawl around in blinding fog thick off the river. The faint sound of church bells reminded him of the stakes. He had to do whatever it took to ensure the safety of five innocent women, even though one of them was quite possibly a murderer.

"I found it." Col's voice pierced the muffling fog, excited.

"Where to now?"

"Back across the bridge, the first pedestrian alcove."

They ran now, and when they gained the bridge slowed to a walk.

"We don't want to miss the first one." Col spoke low, but as far as Derek could see, there was no one around to eavesdrop. But who knew for sure with the fog blanketing them like filthy balls of cotton?

"Here it is--. Col's voice pierced the gap between them.

"I wish to hell we'd thought to bring a lantern along," Derek mused.

"You're right. Let's see if we can find a riverfront inn and buy one from the innkeeper."

Since there were always carriages moving back and forth across London bridge, they were able to hail one quickly, and then Derek had a moment of inspiration. They left the hack cabbie five pounds poorer...but they now had a decent lantern.

9 September,1826

Number One Townhouse, Grosvenor Street