Page 19 of Crimes, Conspiracies, and Courtship (Paddy’s Peelers Mystery #1)

CHAPTER 18

Late January 1820

Hanover Square

“I ’m so happy for you,” Mattie exclaimed. “I can’t believe the banns are being read, and we will soon be sisters!”

Hannah pulled Mattie onto the settee. “You will stand up with me, won’t you?”

“Of course.” Mattie beamed. She was happy for both her brother and sister-to-be.

“And you will be a bride by the end of the Season,” teased Hannah. “I feel it in my bones, as our estate manager likes to say.”

Mattie studied the toes of her slippers and clamped her lips together. She would not spoil their joy. It had taken five years for Nicholas to recover from his first marriage. To think he found retribution and love in the same month was almost a miracle.

“If you think you are hiding anything from me, you can stop the ruse. What is the matter? You haven’t been right in weeks.” Hannah’s amber eyes narrowed. “Did Lord Smalley say something? Did you have words?”

“No! He’s a dear man, really. A… friend.” Mattie sighed.

“That doesn’t sound hopeful.”

They both sat in silence for a bit until Lady Roberta entered and rang for tea. “What’s come over the two of you?”

“Mattie is unhappy.”

“No, I’m not. I am thrilled about the wedding. It’s not that.”

Lady Roberta took the wingback chair, sitting across for the girls on the chaise longue. “It’s the pirate, isn’t it?”

“What pirate?” Hannah’s brows drew together, then she gasped. “The one you danced with at the masquerade?”

Mattie was mortified, her face growing hot.

“Aunt Bertie always knows these things. You might as well tell us the whole story, for we won’t leave you alone until you do.”

“Indeed, my girl. You’ll feel much better once you get it off your chest.”

Once Mattie opened her mouth, the words spilled out. After two pots of tea, she finally finished.

“How romantic,” breathed Lady Roberta.

“We have to find a way for you to be together,” said Hannah, now on her feet and pacing. “There must be something we can do.”

Mattie shrugged. “Mama would have an apoplexy. And Harry”—she let out a little smile at the use of his given name—“would never propose because of his lack of title.”

“So, he wouldn’t elope?” When Mattie shook her head, Hannah began pacing again. “Have you spoken of this to your brother?”

“Nicky can’t provide him with a title.”

Lady Roberta crossed her arms. “Do you care about titles?”

“Not at all,” Mattie blurted.

“Does he love you?”

She blinked at Lady Roberta’s question. “Yes.” Deep in her heart, she knew it was true.

“I think you should tell Lord Darby how you feel,” the older woman said, tapping her bottom lip with a finger. “Fate always puts people together for a reason.”

“I agree.” Hannah hugged her. “Aunt Bertie and I will do everything in our power to make this right.”

“Don’t give up hope, my dear,” Lady Roberta advised. “Love will wait as long as it must if two people are willing.”

“Like you and Lord Chester?” asked Mattie with a sly grin.

“Exactly.” The older lady waggled her brows. “Let’s just hope you aren’t my age by the time we arrange it.”

* * *

Early February

Gracechurch Street

“The Vicar again?” mumbled Walters. “Colvin has no idea who the blaggard is?”

Lord Chester shook his head. “He would tell if he did. The man is facing the noose.”

“And we haven’t found Robert Dunn yet.” Walters drummed his fingers on the table. They were sitting in the O’Briens’ parlor, sipping a fine French brandy. A gift from Hatford. “Except for Thistlewood, most of the Spenceans are growing suspicious of your spy. Edwards is getting nervous.”

“I don’t blame him. His notes say the men are concerned because the funds have dried up. I need you to get him some blunt and curb the unease in the group.”

“I can do that. But what’s the plan?”

“It involves a bit of trickery.” Lord Chester gave Paddy a side-glance.

“Ye’re checking with an Irishman about trickery?” The big man guffawed. “Let’s hear it.”

“We’ll plant an article in one of the newspapers. Thistlewood reads the New Times, I think Edwards said. It will mention the cabinet is meeting at Lord Harrowby’s house for a dinner and cabinet meeting. He lives around the corner in Grosvenor Square, not far from the Cato Street meeting place.”

Walters let out a whistle. “We’ll lure them into committing a crime?”

“If you have a better plan, I’m open,” said Lord Chester.

“So, Edwards will make sure they see the post?” Paddy asked.

“Yes, and he’ll suggest hitting the entire cabinet at once.”

“It could work,” agreed Walters. “I wouldn’t leave much of a gap between the mention in the newspaper and the dinner. Too much time to change their minds or figure out Edwards is a spy.”

* * *

February 22, 1820

Grapes Tavern, Narrow Street

Edwards raised a hand as Walters entered the tavern. He ordered a bumper from the barmaid, then took a seat across from Edwards.

“I believe we’re set,” the spy said. “You were right. Things got a bit out of hand, but when I came up with the blunt for the weapons tomorrow, they seemed to accept the plot. Thistlewood is at sixes and sevens. Thinks he’s starting a new world. He’ll be a hero, and all the common folk will stand up behind him and overthrow the Crown.”

“ And he’ll be in charge, I suppose.”

“Aye.”

“I’ll be with the Runners across the street at the public house. If things go awry, look for me. I’ll get you out safe.” Walters took a pull of his ale. “Let me know if there are any changes.”

The two men shook hands, and Walters left. He took the same route he always did and wasn’t surprised to see Roger Lynch stroll up next to him.

“Dangerous neighborhood, Mr. Walters. It ain’t safe to be walking about on your own,” the lad said with a grin. His black curls pushed out from beneath his cap.

“I appreciate it, Mr. Lynch.”

“Aw, Roger is good enough.” The young man stuck his hands in his pockets as he walked. “Ma wanted me to give ye this.”

Walters squinted at the proffered gift. A white linen handkerchief with his initials embroidered on it. A lump formed in his throat. “Tell her thank you.” He folded it carefully and tucked it inside the pocket of his coat.

“We bought the best we could afford, and she did the needlework. Says she’s happy to keep up the darning for Mrs. O’Brien. And anything else ye might need.” He squinted up at the sliver of moon. “It was good o’ ye to provide the meal at Christmastide and the gifts for the li’l ones. Ma found out they didn’t come from the church.”

Walters grew uncomfortable under the praise. He’d done so little. “The new place is working out, then?”

“Three rooms, Mr. Walters. Three ,” he crooned. “A kitchen big enough for a table and a couple of rockers by the hearth, and two smaller rooms. One for Ma and me sister, one for me and my little brother.”

“Roger,” Walters said, an idea forming, “I need you to do something for me tomorrow.”