Page 10

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T he air was chilly and wet against Samantha’s face, the clouds scattered across the London sky adding shadows to even the darkest corners of night. Dressed in the same clothes she’d worn for the last four days, she crept past the heavy stone building, her fingertips trailing across the uneven wall as she entered the narrow walkway with Murry, Turner, and Ward at her back.

Her meeting with Marsdale yesterday had been surprising. Never in her wildest dreams would she have imagined him capable of breaking the law. But it would seem the earl was capable of a great deal when it came to helping his friends. The risk he’d taken, first to acquire the pertinent information and then to deliver it to her, was undeniable, yet it was one he’d been willing to take. For Adrian.

She halted when she reached the courtyard that sat at the center of Newgate Prison’s stables. An occasional whinny shifted the silence, which was further disturbed by the groan of wheels produced by a carriage that rolled past in the street. A brief flutter behind her breastbone reminded her of the stakes.

Years of rigorous training under Dorian Harlowe’s instruction had prepared her for almost anything. Nerves had not been an issue a couple of months ago when she’d faced down two thugs who’d wanted her dead. Or when she’d leapt across rooftops.

But now…

She pulled a steadying breath into her lungs and tried not to think of what could go wrong. And how much she stood to loose if it did. Instead, she stepped forward, her stride even and sure as she headed toward the door that would take them up to the rooms where the coachmen slept. The information Edward had gleaned from Kendrick matched what Isak had told her and steeled her resolve.

She reached the door as the clouds above parted, allowing the first faint light of dawn to seep through. The coachmen would be rising soon so they could enjoy a quick meal before readying the horses and carriages. Samantha drew a couple of hairpins from the bun at the back of her head and placed them into the lock. It only took a moment to work the mechanism before a click sounded and the door swung open.

“Let’s go.” She waved the men through, closed the door, and followed them up the stairs, their footfalls scraping lightly over the worn wooden steps.

Murry stopped when he reached the top and waited for her to join him. He jutted his chin toward the hallway ahead. It was exactly as Edward had described, with a series of doors to the left and the right wall broken up by windows that overlooked the courtyard. According to what she’d been told, the coachmen who would be transporting Adrian to the Old Bailey were in the third and fourth rooms.

She headed toward the first of them, was almost there when she heard the door to the stairwell being opened. One quick glance at Murry was all she had time for before she leapt for the first door she had been heading toward and flung it open.

Murry, Turner, and Ward followed her into the dimly lit chamber.

“What th—”

Her blade silenced the man they’d startled awake as she set the edge to his throat. Fighting the panic that threatened to rise up inside her, she looked to Murry, Turner, and Ward, who stood with their backs pressed firmly against the wall. No one breathed.

And then it came, the knock at the door.

Samantha made sure the edge of her blade pressed just a bit deeper. The knock came again. “Time to rise.”

The door handle moved and Samantha ducked, making herself as small as she could while maintaining her threat against the coachman. Right as the door was pushed open.

Huddled beside the bed, she peered through the shadowy darkness toward the bright light that came into view. The yellow haze from it illuminated a slim figure with gaunt features – a youth who could do with a hearty meal.

“Are you awake, Richards?”

Murry raised his pistol for Richards to see and Samantha released her blade’s pressure upon his neck.

“Yes,” Richards managed, nearly spitting the word when the youth who’d come to wake him stepped forward. “I’m awake.”

A pause followed and then the youth retreated, the door closing behind him as he went to wake the occupant of the next room. Samantha released the breath she’d been holding, her body nearly sagging with the relief of not having to face what might have happened had that young man seen them.

The glow from the oil lamp must have helped blind him.

She pushed up into a crouch and leaned over Richards. “Know that I’ll end your life if you holler for help. Got it?”

His hasty nod was all the answer she needed, but it didn’t help solve the problem regarding Pierson, the man in the next room over, and Richards’s fellow coachman. He’d be awake now too, washing and getting dressed, preparing for the day ahead, thus denying them the kind of advantage they’d had with Richards. For if Pierson were already up and about, he might try to fight, and that could get messy.

Worse, it could draw attention.

And yet, they had to try and make him yield to their will. For the simple reason that they needed both men’s cooperation.

“Murry. Turner,” Samantha said, her voice hissing through the fading darkness of dawn. “See about Pierson, will you?”

Both men departed without a word. They knew what was needed.

“Take over for me,” Samantha told Ward. A flash of movement followed as he unsheathed his own dagger and crossed to where she still crouched. To Richards she said, “I advise you not to try anything or it will be the last action you take.”

Richards didn’t so much as move as Ward placed his blade against Richards’s throat. This allowed Samantha the freedom she needed to light the candle she pulled from her jacket pocket and search the small room. It didn’t contain much – just the bed, a crate turned into a makeshift nightstand, a trunk with what looked to be a lap desk placed on top, and a washstand.

She went for the lap desk first, flipping the lid to find the writing utensils she’d known would be stuffed inside. Foolscap, a quill, several nibs—some of which appeared to be broken, blotting paper, and a small inkwell.

But there was also something else, the very thing Samantha sought.

With every second that passed determining whether or not she succeeded or failed, she snatched up one of the letters she found, allowed the glow from the candle to fall upon it, and scanned the contents. Hating what she would have to do next, she thought of Adrian, of what would happen to him if she did not proceed as planned.

“You have two sisters,” she whispered, her attention returning to Richards. “They clearly miss you and wish you well from Castle Combe.”

“Please,” Richards rasped, his eyes were wide with fear.

Steeling herself against it, against the awful sensation clawing its way through her gut, Samantha made him a promise. “No harm shall come to either of them, provided you do as I ask. Do you understand?”

“Ye…yes.”

“And just to be sure you’re not foolish enough to think there’s a way to outsmart me, my associate here will be leaving now, along with this letter.” Samantha handed the letter to Ward, who tucked it into his pocket. “Should I fail to meet him at our rendezvous point later today, he’ll have no choice but to pay your family a visit. Which means there will be no calling for help, no attempt to escape, or unwillingness to comply. Am I right, Mr. Richards?”

When he answered in the affirmative once again, Samantha gestured for Ward to remove his blade from Richards’s throat. “Find your friend and go to the place we decided upon. Make sure all is ready for our arrival.”

Ward nodded and slipped from the room. Samantha snuffed out the candle to find the shadows of dawn receding. Soon, daylight would settle upon them. More people would start milling about. She dropped her gaze to Richards, who looked like he might never move again, his body rigid as he lay in bed, staring at her.

“Get up,” she told him. He nearly got himself tangled in the bedsheets and almost fell in his haste to follow her order. When all he did once he was upright was stand and wait, she rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “Wash, dress, relieve yourself if you must. But hurry. I’d like to get out of this room and into your carriage as quickly as I am able.”

The longer they lingered, the greater the chance that others would see them, that questions would be asked and perhaps an alarm raised. She didn’t have time for that. Could not afford to waste precious minutes fighting her way out of this situation or risking any of them getting injured.

“Might I…um…have some privacy?”

Samantha considered his request and decided to grant it. Richards knew what would happen if he tried to do something stupid. The fear in his eyes was real, even if her threat wasn’t. She’d made it out of necessity, but she wasn’t the sort of person to hunt down innocent people and cause them bodily harm. Richards, however, didn’t know this and Samantha intended to keep it that way.

She gave him a hard stare. “If you so much as think about trying to find a way out of this for yourself, I’ll be sure to tell your sisters that you are the reason they had to perish.”

“Of course…I…I…”

“Be quick about it,” she snapped, and promptly left the room. She allowed herself a brief moment to gather her wits, to remind herself that she wasn’t this terrible person she was pretending to be.

With a quick intake of air, she straightened her spine and proceeded toward Pierson’s door. Was almost at it when one of the doors a bit farther along opened. Samantha gauged her chance of entering Pierson’s room before she was spotted, and realized it was nonexistent, that she might have to give herself up and let Murry take over.

The man who was leaving his room turned. And promptly froze when he saw her. “Who the hell are you?”

Samantha contemplated the choices available to her. He was large; tall and broad-shouldered, with dark strands of hair falling loosely over his brow. Hard eyes stared toward her, spearing the softening shadows of dawn.

Overpowering him would be out of the question unless she meant to use lethal force, which wasn’t an option. Deciding to try and talk her way out of the situation first, she forced a saucy smile to her lips, a glimmer of mischief into her eyes, and said, “A friend of Pierson’s.”

The man crossed his arms. “He’s never mentioned you to me. Not once.”

A chuckle, to neutralize the suspicion in the man’s voice. “Certain things are best kept private.”

“He let you in, did he?”

She angled her head, decided it might be time to play dumb. “Was he not supposed to?”

“No. Visitors aren’t permitted up here, but I think you probably know that.” He came toward her, his pace measured while that hard gaze slid over each inch of her body. “Seeing as you’re dressed in men’s clothes. A disguise, I assume, allowing you to pass as a man when it’s dark.”

“Hmm…” A soft purr to let him think he’d figured everything out. “How clever you are.”

He closed the last few paces between them, halting immediately outside Pierson’s door. “Were you coming or leaving?”

“Leaving.”

“Didn’t look that way to me,” he muttered, smirking just enough to tell her that he didn’t buy what she was selling. “You won’t mind if I check your story, will you?”

Fisting his hand, he gave Pierson’s door two solid raps while holding her gaze with the kind of stubborn determination that made her want to scream in frustration. Her pulse started flying around once more. This was no longer about the repercussions she faced if she were found out. Murry was still in that room as far as she knew. Turner and Ward too.

Which made her wonder what the hell was taking so long. Had Murry not found the same leverage to use against Pierson as she’d found to use against Richards?

The door finally opened and a man she did not recognize gave her a quizzical look. “Yes?”

She opened her mouth to speak but Pierson’s colleague cut her off. “Are you acquainted with this individual? Says she’s a friend of yours.”

“That’s right,” Pierson’s voice was as even as a perfectly planed plank of wood.

“You know that’s a violation of the rules, right?”

“Do you plan to report me?”

“That depends.” Pierson’s colleague eyed Samantha with interest before telling Pierson, “Maybe you can make it worth my while not to.”

“What do you want, Bowes?”

“For her to swear she’ll bring me a woman who’s just as fine as she is the next time she pays you a visit. And a kiss from her right now. To seal the deal.” His gaze heated with that remark, and he explained, “It’s been a while.”

Samantha gave Pierson a do-what-you-can-to-act-possessive look. She had no wish to kiss anyone other than Adrian or waste time doing so. What she wanted was to get rid of Bowes now so they could stop lingering outside Pierson’s door and move forward according to schedule.

“I’ll not have you laying your hands on her,” Pierson told Bowes, an added bite to his voice. “Unless she fails to meet your request. In which case she shall be yours for one night. Is that agreeable to you?”

Bowes produced a gruff laugh before telling Samantha, “I’ve never wished for someone to fail as much as I do you.”

Samantha sent him a broad smile. “Too bad I can think of at least three women who’d leap at the chance to please a man of your station.”

“How do you mean?” Interest – a heavy dose of flirtation – the need for affirmation.

“You help keep the City safe, do you not? Guarding prisoners, transporting them… There’s something incredibly—” she bit her lip for good measure “—rousing about that kind of power.”

Pierson produced the perfect growl, low and threatening.

A flicker of daring appeared in Bowes’s eyes. His lips curled. “Bring all three of your friends if you wish, and I’ll demonstrate just how powerful I can be.”

Samantha dipped her head, the tension in her bones easing when Bowes brushed past her. Pierson stepped back, pulling his door wide enough for her to enter the room.

Her gaze went directly to Murry, whose grim expression reflected her own thoughts. They could not afford any more delays or the risks that came with having to explain away their presence to those who saw them.

Eager to move on quickly, she asked, “Does Turner have the information he needs?”

“I do,” Turner said.

“Then you’d best be off.” She included Ward in the statement that followed. “Good luck to you both.”

The pair departed and Samantha prayed they would reach the street safely. She patted the back of her hair and allowed the lethal pins she felt there to ground her. They had the compliance of the two men they needed. It was time to put the rest of their plan into action.

“Let’s fetch Richards,” she said, “and head to the carriage.”