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W rengate .

The name kept pace with Samantha as she and the rest of her party travelled back toward London. She’d protested having anything to do with that scoundrel as soon as Adrian uttered his name.

“I had to kill two men because of him,” she’d said, not caring that Kendrick was there to hear her confession. “His association with Wycliff indicates he’s involved in his own nefarious dealings and not the sort of individual we should include in our plans. Besides which, I would prefer not having to face him again.”

“We won’t be having him over for tea,” Adrian told her. “But as a duke, his voice will carry weight. That is all we are after in this instance. So if Eldridge gains his support, we include him. Not doing so would be foolish.”

She’d bristled but held her tongue. Getting into a personal row while Kendrick looked on would only undermine what they strove to achieve. Besides, she was well aware that she had her own share of questionable allies. Like Hazel, who sat opposite her in the carriage, her leg propped up, foot resting next to Samantha.

She’d taken no pleasure in questioning her, in extracting the information she needed, or in learning that Harlowe had tasked her with bringing Samantha back to Clearview. By whatever means necessary.

The news wasn’t surprising. Samantha had been prepared to face the consequence of Harlowe’s discovering she’d turned against him. She just hadn’t imagined how difficult it would be having her foster-sisters, whom she would have trusted with her life last week, become her enemies.

A painful thought as she watched Hazel with increased apprehension. Though she’d answered Samantha’s questions and asked Samantha to help her understand why she’d chosen to stand with Adrian, Samantha had told her nothing. Hazel belonged to Harlowe and as a result, she could not be trusted.

The carriage bounced and Samantha wound her arm more firmly around Molly’s shoulders to keep her from sliding off the bench. The girl had wept since she’d learned about Charlie, exhausting herself until she’d fallen asleep, roughly ten minutes into the ride.

Two more children were squeezed in beside her. Another sat on the opposite bench, between Hazel and Adrian. None said a word and Samantha made no attempt at encouraging conversation. Instead, she went over the plan she’d hashed out with Adrian before setting off.

Kendrick and Jackson would drive the carriages back to London, stopping briefly at The Bearded Vulture, so Samantha and Adrian could alight. A meeting with the syndicate would be called, their help obtained while Kendrick and Jackson returned Molly Atkins to her parents and made sure the rest of the children were taken to the home that Adrian had recently founded for orphaned children.

Once this task had been completed, Jackson would deliver Snipes to Bow Street and send a message back to Pagham, informing the local magistrate there of the three dead bodies he’d find in the cottage. Meanwhile, Kendrick would see Hazel safely to St. George’s Hospital for treatment. At which point there was no telling how long it might take for news about her to reach Harlowe’s ears. She would undoubtedly tell him everything once the two met. Which made time precious.

An agreement with the syndicate had to be reached before Harlowe was made aware of Samantha’s return to London. Before an attempt could be made by Sir Nigel to recapture Adrian. Before their access to those whose help they required could be denied.

“I’ll do as agreed,” Kendrick said once they’d stopped at The Bearded Vulture and the three of them had climbed from the carriage. “You have my word.”

“What about him?” Adrian asked, a nod toward Jackson, who remained on the driver’s bench.

“He won’t mention your name.”

Samantha knew that while this might be the case, there was no guarantee. Unlike Kendrick, Jackson remained in Sir Nigel’s employ. In her opinion, they’d been wise not to speak of their plans in his presence.

Addressing Hazel through the open carriage door, she said, “I hope you recover the use of your leg.”

“Though not too quickly, I’m sure.” The bitterness with which the comment was spoken, stung.

Samantha tried her best to shrug it off. “The last thing I want is to face you in battle.”

“I know,” Hazel muttered. “I feel the same way.”

With nothing else to add, Samantha turned to Molly, who looked as though she’d been weighed down by misery. An attempt at a smile had no effect on the girl, so Samantha told her, “There’s much for you to be happy about. You’ll see your mama and papa soon and they will be overjoyed by your return. Focus on that, Molly, and try to put the rest behind you.”

Molly shook her head. “I’ll never forget about Charlie.”

“Of course you won’t.” Samantha squeezed her hand, then stepped back and pushed the door shut. She and Adrian said their goodbyes to Kendrick who climbed back onto his driver’s bench and took up the reins.

“This way,” Adrian said as soon as the carriages pulled back onto the road. He led her around the side of the half-timbered building, toward a back entrance marked by a door that was outfitted with a sliding peephole and a brass knocker.

He gave the knocker three loud raps. A moment passed before the peephole slid to one side and someone looked out. “Yes?”

“Portman Square is on fire,” Adrian said.

The sliding peephole slammed shut and the door was unlocked and pulled open by a large, stern-looking woman who waved them inside. The door was quickly closed and bolted. “I’ll pass the message along.”

The woman ushered them into a pantry right off the narrow hallway in which they’d arrived and moved a couple of empty crates to reveal a latch in the floor. Once the trap door was opened, Adrian ushered Samantha into the rugged stone stairwell that sat beneath this part of the inn.

“Some food and wine would be welcome,” Adrian told the woman, handing Samantha the oil lamp he’d just received. “While we wait.”

No other words were exchanged, and Samantha started down the stairs, Adrian following at her back. The hatch slammed shut overhead, removing all remnants of natural light. Only the glow from the oil lamp illuminated their descent, which continued for longer than Samantha would have expected.

The air grew increasingly cooler the deeper they went. A damp smell filled her nostrils. Water dripping against a hard surface matched their pace. The stones lining the walls became larger blocks, intended to bear the weight of the ground above them.

“Straight ahead,” Adrian said when they reached the bottom. “There’s a door in another ten paces, beyond that the room in which we’ll meet with the others.”

Taking the lantern from Samantha, Adrian used the flame to light a torch, which he then used to light the rest, illuminating the space Samantha stepped into.

A rickhouse, as it turned out.

Large enough to match the Croft House cellar. The size and build suggested it had once sat beneath a much older structure than the inn. Three levels of barrels were stacked against the walls. A long wooden table, medieval in style, marked the center of the space. Eleven chairs stood around it.

Adrian placed the oil lamp on the table and crossed to the chair that stood at the head of it. “This is my seat.” He patted the chair to his right. “And this will be yours.”

She sauntered toward it and placed her hand at the top of the backrest, dragged her fingertips over the solid wood surface. Felt the uneven markings of age.

A smile pulled at her lips. “Harlowe has no idea who he’s up against.”

“How do you mean?” Interest surfaced in Adrian’s shadowy gaze.

“He has his own secret rooms beneath Clearview House. Mostly used for training. But this is something else. A whole new level of subterfuge.”

“Generations’ worth of work.” Adrian glanced around slowly as though reminiscing. “I’m not the first King of Portman Square to meet my associates here. Far from it.”

Impressed and enthralled, Samantha met Adrian’s gaze and waited for his nod of approval before even daring to pull out her chair and sit.

It took over an hour for the first of the nine invitees to arrive. Hardly surprising, considering each man had to be called for, then travel the distance required. The wait had allowed Samantha and Adrian to enjoy a tasty meal. Spiced pork roasted over an open flame, accompanied by a mixture of root vegetables drizzled in some kind of magical gravy.

Samantha’s tastebuds sang with pleasure.

“Better than expected?” Adrian asked, a hint of humor softening his voice.

“Without question.” She finished off her last bite and drank some ale. “This might just be worth the risk we’re facing.”

“A risk that will be greatly diminished with the help we’re about to receive.”

She held his gaze and hoped his words would prove true, even as she chose to remind him, “A victory should never be celebrated before it has been achieved.”

He leaned forward and took her hand, his thumb gently stroking. “I am the most fortunate man in the world to have you as my wife. Thank you for standing by me. For stubbornly refusing to let me hang. For every risk you have taken on my behalf.”

“I could never abandon you,” she told him. A truth that was already forging her future. Their future . Together.

“I’m so incredibly sorry to have doubted you, but—”

“I know. Had I been in your position, I would have doubted too. You had every reason to do so after the way things between us began.”

“Can you forgive me?”

“Of course. After all, you forgave me, did you not?”

A sliver of lingering fear crept through her, putting her slightly on edge, until he nodded. “A thousand times over.”

She prepared to close the distance between them, to press her mouth to his in a searing reminder of how much she loved him. But then footsteps sounded and in the next instant a portly fellow with gruff features arrived.

* * *

Adrian surveyed the men he’d summoned, the expectant look in their eyes mixed with hints of displeasure. They did not like being dragged here without a moment’s notice, but at least they’d come. No doubt because they feared what would happen to them if they failed to lend the support he demanded.

“ The Morning Post will prepare an article later today that’s going to run in tomorrow’s paper,” Adrian said, keeping his point as direct as possible. “It will draw attention to the deliberate manner in which the authorities aimed to destroy me for personal gain. Testimonies provided by two men who knew of Mr. Benjamin Lawrence’s deception and that his father, the Marquess of Avernail, perpetuated it will be included as proof.”

Though Kendrick had mentioned the likelihood of finding Lady Eleanore’s eyes hidden somewhere in Benjamin Lawrence’s house, time did not allow for a search to be conducted. For the sake of efficiency, they had to use other tools at their disposal. He could only hope no harm had come to Mr. Hollander or Mr. Perch.

“Avernail did more than perpetuate his son’s lie,” Murdoch said. “According to one of my informants, he blackmailed the footman he put on the stand. Threatened to kill him unless he agreed to do as Avernail asked.”

Adrian wasn’t surprised. In his opinion, the perjury had been obvious. It had only worked because the judge and jury had been equally compromised. However, they might be able to use it to their advantage. “Would this informant of yours be willing to make their knowledge public?”

“Possibly. If their safety can be guaranteed.”

“Safety won’t be a problem as long as the full extent of my plan is put into motion.” He held Murdoch’s gaze and hoped their long-standing relationship would add credence to his words.

“In that case,” Murdoch said, “I believe they can be convinced.”

“Make the reward as lucrative as you deem necessary and have them meet with Abernathy at once. Their statement will add additional weight to his article.”

Murdoch dipped his head, accepting the order Adrian gave him, and took his leave.

“Simmons.”

“Yes, Mr. Croft?” The coroner, who had cleaned up numerous “messes” for the Crofts over the years, straightened with alertness.

“A draft of Abernathy’s article will be required by seven o’clock this evening. No later. A simple outline or even a list of points in letter format will suffice. Just as long as it’s enough to convey the extent of the scandal about to be unleashed upon London.”

“I’ll go to The Morning Post right away and inform Abernathy directly.”

“Fitzherbert, you will go with him. Add pressure where needed to make sure the editor does not fail me.” Abernathy’s part in the plan was key. Without him, everything else fell apart.

“Define pressure,” Fitzherbert said, the smirk that followed so chilling even Adrian shivered. He stiffened his spine and hardened his jaw. “There will be no blood or broken bones. If done correctly, your presence alone will suffice.”

Fitzherbert huffed a dissatisfied breath but made no attempt to argue.

“As soon as a satisfactory outline of the article has been acquired,” Adrian told both Simmons and Fitzherbert, “you will walk to the corner of Old Bond Street and Piccadilly, where you shall hand it over to Ellis. Understood?”

“Aye.” Fitzherbert stood and turned for the door, brushing past Simmons with a sharp, “Let’s go.”

Simmons tilted his head, apprehension flickering in his eyes, before he gave Adrian a quick nod and followed Fitzherbert from the room.

“Ellis,” Adrian turned his attention toward the middle-aged man of average height and build who sat beside him, opposite Samantha. Unremarkable, some might call him. Yet he was one of the only men present who could blend in with the upper class. The only one who could become a French count or Italian duke. “As soon as Fitzherbert and Simmons have handed the information to you, you’ll call on the Duke of Eldridge.”

“To pass Abernathy’s words along?”

“That’s part of it.” Adrian could only pray he was not underestimating the duke’s dependability. “In addition, however, I would ask you to remind him of his influence. Tell him that he shall have Prinny’s ear without interference, and that now would be the time to inform His Royal Highness of just how destructive public mistrust can be. And to suggest that he has the power to prevent a national crisis.”

A thoughtful look from Ellis suggested that he understood Adrian’s meaning completely. “Once Abernathy’s article is published, eyes will be opened and anger will follow. The wrong that has been committed shall have to be righted, and Prinny is the only man with the power to do so.”

“Precisely. It is essential that he understands where all the corruption will lead – that it is he the common man will look toward when searching for someone to blame – so he can act in our interest.”

“Fear not, Mr. Croft. I’ll see to it that Eldridge plays his part.”

“I encourage you to mention Moorland and Wrengate to him. See if he thinks their added support might be useful.” Adrian looked at the remaining men in turn. Aderlay, the forger; Chapman, the explosives expert; Burton, the art thief; Lee, the charmer; and Taylor, the whoremonger. “Everyone else will work on removing Avernail and Lord Carver from the picture until we’ve accomplished our goal.”

“Which, just to be clear, involves having the charges against you dropped,” Lee said, his gaze shifting to the others as though attempting to figure out if he was the only one who needed clarification.

“Exactly.” Adrian met Samantha’s gaze and realized this was the first time she’d seen him yield the full power of his position. And instead of disapproval, he saw admiration, compelling him to add, “If all goes well, I shall be free to return home tomorrow evening.”

After which he’d avenge the kidnapped children. By going after Hillford.