Page 16 of Crimes, Conspiracies, and Courtship (Paddy’s Peelers Mystery #1)
CHAPTER 15
Next night
Gracechurch Street
W alters entered the entry hall, wanting nothing more than a quick whiskey and a warm bed. He had an appointment to report to Lord Chester the next day. Nora had located the room where the stolen boys were kept in the last flash house. The duke had returned later in the week, browsing a potential purchase.
Clayton had overheard Colvin making arrangements for payment and “delivery” of his purchase. He, Clayton, and Gus had returned and taken the boys just before dawn. He would have loved to see the surprise and rage when the lads were discovered missing.
Bow Street was taking over this part of the investigation, and Robert Dunn and his Spencean friend must have gotten wind of the Runners. Neither could be found right now. As a previous Runner, Walters knew the constables would stay on the case until the men reappeared, either in Town or floating in the Thames.
Had their boss, “the Vicar,” murdered them to keep their mouths shut? Who was he? Obviously not a man of God. And why the nickname?
George Edwards, the spy within the radical group, had also been pushing his friendship with the leader, Arthur Thistlewood. He’d discovered the address of a warehouse used to hold the weapons supply, bought by the money passed on by Colvin. Edwards had also discovered the name of the lad who took the money from Colvin.
With Clayton’s help, they’d discovered the boy was the son of a Spencean. The one who had been stealing and selling to flash houses with Dunn, who seemed to have his thumb in too many pies.
Halfway up the stairs, a voice called out, “’Tis about time ye returned home. Almost drank all da whisky without ye,” declared Paddy from the doorway of the parlor. “We’d have a word if ye please, Harry.”
Walters frowned. We?
Lord Chester Hatford from the Home Office sat before the hearth, smiling as Walters joined them. “Take a seat, Mr. Walters. I have good news.”
“Are my services no longer needed?” he asked.
“Quite the opposite. First, tell me what you’ve learned since we last spoke.”
Walters did, bending to give Aonarach a scratch, then leaned back to enjoy the amber liquid provided by Paddy. “Is there enough to charge Colvin with something?” He blew out a breath. “Anything?”
Lord Chester grinned. “I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing now.” He held out his glass to Paddy, who took it to the side table and refilled his at the same time.
“The Spencean you saw with Dunn is in our custody now. Conveniently, an unidentified body was found in the Thames, who is now known to be the disappeared radical.”
“And his boy? The one who acts as the pickup?” Walters hated the lad going to prison for doing as his father bid.
“No, he’s with his mother, who believes her husband is in hiding. It’s the only way to ensure his safety until the trial. We know the man financing the radicals is called The Vicar .”
“I heard Dunn mention the name Vicar. Who is he?” Walters had a feeling this fellow had a few irons in the fire.
“We don’t know. Those we’ve brought in or arrested who worked for him have never met him. Only his moniker is used. Whoever his top men are must be extremely loyal or extremely afraid of him.”
“But he’s in Town?” Paddy asked.
Lord Chester nodded before changing the subject to ask Paddy, “Did you ask the missus about your daughter helping us?”
Paddy nodded. “I asked before I presented it to Nora. My daughter’s response was never in question.”
“Perhaps I’ve missed some tiny detail?” asked Walters, wondering how Nora came into this picture.
“We have enough evidence to charge the Duke of Colvin with treason. However, he seems to have a virtual army within his house, hired for his protection. I believe if we were to arrest him at the house, there would be resistance. He might even have an escape route prepared in case he’s caught.” Lord Chester shook his head. “The deviant is sinking into the depths of Hell.”
“As if he could go much lower.” Paddy loved sarcasm. He ran a hand through his faded red hair. “He’ll take the bait for the dance, though. It’s a brilliant plan, Hatford.”
Lord Chester nodded, looking pleased by the compliment. “There is a masquerade at the end of the week, given by a, shall we say, mutual friend ? Darby will be there, along with his sister and her friend the duke commented on. We made sure Colvin received an invitation and a whisper in his ear about the other guests.”
Walters whistled. “Clever. You’re right. He’ll take the bait. So, what does this have to do with me and Nora?”
“You will both be going to the masquerade,” said Lord Chester. “We’ll arrest him during the event, where his minions can’t protect him. Nora will make sure he remains occupied . And then lead him to a designated area where we will be waiting.”
“I don’t t’ink I’ve seen ye smile in weeks, Harry,” said Paddy. “Finally, some good news, eh?”
Walters nodded. “If anyone can charm Colvin, it would be our Nora. But why do you need me? Won’t you have your own men?”
“Of course, but you would recognize anyone who shouldn’t be there—any of his henchmen—or a Spencean who could warn him of our presence.”
It was true. Walters had been surveilling the Cato Street loft and knew all the faces of the members, along with the duke’s toads. “How will I present myself?”
Paddy slapped him on the shoulder and guffawed. “It’s a masquerade, boyo.”
* * *
“Good morning, Brother dear.” Nora entered the dining room with a wide smile on her face. “I hear we will be working together again.”
Walters shook his head. “Again, you are much too cheerful, considering you must entertain a man who sold his soul to the devil.”
“It’s just another role on a different type of stage,” she retorted. “I’ve been thinking about our costumes.”
Walters leaned against the back of the chair. “Please, Lord, save me from the machinations of my sweet sister.”
Nora laughed. “I think you will like your costume. A pirate. You shall go by the name of Jack Rackham.”
“Calico Jack.” He brightened. “The good man turned terror of the seas.”
She nodded. “It will provide enough cover so your face won’t be easily recognized, and the costume will be comfortable enough you can chase or wrestle with the villain if need be.”
“And who will you be?”
“A concubine with a veil over my face,” she said, her eyes daring him to argue.
Walters shook his head. “Don’t let Maggie see you in that deuced costume if it’s the same one you wore for the Ali Baba production. She still has hopes for a respectable daughter.”
* * *
Mattie clapped her hands. “Oh yes, it’s perfect!”
She was at the dressmaker’s with her mother and Hannah. Hannah’s costume for the following evening was Eleanor of Aquitaine. She would wear a forest-green medieval gown with a black silk underdress and a black velvet rope to drape low across her waist. A string of holly and mistletoe had been embroidered across the dark hem and along the black lace armbands, cuffs, and neckline.
Mattie twirled in front of the mirror, inspecting her traditional Venetian costume. The black hooded cape covered a coquelicot gown with white poppies embroidered in stripes down a full red skirt. Her mask was red with a border of black paste diamonds, and it made her light blue eyes stand out against the darker color. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’re beautiful, Mattie,” whispered Hannah in her ear.
“You are both beautiful,” agreed Lady Darby. “I understand Lord Smalley will be there.”
“He didn’t mention it when we saw him at the soiree last week.” The baron was beginning to feel like a favorite armchair. Comfortable. She would not think about how her heart didn’t pound when she thought of him. Would she ever be kissed again like Harry had kissed her? Move on.
While her mother arranged to have the outfits delivered to their individual directions, Hannah tugged on Mattie’s sleeve.
“Will your brother be attending?”
Mattie shrugged. “I don’t know. This time of year he’s always hit with a bout of the blue devils. But I will try to convince him.”
“I have heard masquerades can be dens of iniquity,” said Hannah, a mischievous gleam in her eye. “We could receive a kiss from a stranger.”
“And do you have a particular stranger in mind?” Mattie thought if she couldn’t have the man of her heart, perhaps her friend could. How wonderful it would be to have Hannah as a sister. A sister. The thought made her want to squeal with delight.
“What about you? A handsome masked man could sweep you off your feet as well.”
Mattie forced a smile. Only if he comes out of my dreams, I’m afraid.
And goodness, there had been enough of those.