Page 27 of Lady Isla and the Lord of Rogue (Merry Spinsters, Charming Rogues #6)

Chapter Eighteen

Isla was reeling with the impact of what she had just witnessed.

How could it be?

How was any of it possible?

Perhaps it was all a terrible dream. A nightmare. An illusion.

Everything—every smile, every sweet gesture, every word—had been a lie?

Her heart ached in ways she had never thought possible.

Yet…why was she so surprised? The signs had been there from the beginning.

She had suspected that something was amiss with Teddy from the start.

She had noticed real, tangible clues, and still she had looked away.

She had chosen blissful ignorance, clinging to the belief that he truly was who he professed to be.

Because she wanted him to be Teddy. Needed him to be Teddy.

Thus, she ignored the truth, even as everything screamed in her face that he was not .

Until it was too late, and she had become a witness to a murder.

Isla paused before the door to Algie’s study; her hand poised in the air. She lifted it once, then again, but allowed it to fall both times. Turning away, she climbed the staircase. She stopped halfway. After a moment of indecision, she turned and made her way back down again.

Why was she hesitating? She had always told Algie everything. There had never been any secrets between them. She had trusted Algie with her very soul, and she knew she was right to place such faith in him.

She took a breath, knocked briskly, and entered.

Algie sat at his desk, which was unusually free of oranges. He was examining a sheet of paper through a magnifying lens. When he looked up at her, he lowered the glass.

It was a map.

Her stomach lurched. She recognised it immediately. It was the very map from the antiquities shop, the one that had shown the territory of the Mudlark Skulls.

“Pixiekins,” he said in a mild tone, “you ought to be in bed.”

“I am quite well,” she replied. “Or I shall be once we have spoken.”

She crossed the room and sat opposite him, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Algie narrowed his gaze. “Something has happened. Tell me everything.”

She did.

She told him everything from the moment she accepted Teddy’s proposal.

How she had, at first, intended to use him to discover what had become of Jem.

She described their visits to the rookery, the gambling hell, Lucian Night’s disgraceful proposal, and the tattoo.

She concealed nothing, save for the most terrible part.

When it came to the moment in the warehouse, when he’d given the order to take a man’s life, her voice faltered.

Algie listened in silence, his expression perfectly unreadable.

When she reached the end of her tale, he raised one brow, as though she had merely related a society column in The Gazette .

“Algie?” Her voice was uneven. Where was the fury, the indignation, the protective brother she had expected? There was only a small crease between his brows, the sole indication of deeper thought.

Then she understood.

She leaned back in the chair and exhaled. “You already knew everything.”

Algie folded his hands atop the desk, saying nothing to confirm or deny her words. A slight flicker of regret crossed his features.

She pressed her fingers against her temples. “Of course you knew. You always know everything about everyone. Rather like Providence.”

“Not quite. I know far less than that,” he said, rising and strolling toward the fire. “And I would never presume to be Providence. Although, I do take some pride in my work.”

For a moment, his lips curved in a small, satisfied smile before he concealed it.

“Algie.”

He turned to face her, a worried fold between his brows.

“I did not realise you had formed an attachment to Night. That was not our intention. We believed you would remain unaffected by him. That was part of the reason we permitted it to continue for as long as it did. Yet you surpassed all expectations. You uncovered truths no one else could. Truly, I should not be surprised. You are, after all, my sister.” A flicker of pride passed across his eyes.

Her lips parted. “Who is ’we’? And what plan?”

He inclined his head. “There is an entire institution behind me, after all. It is an operation. We call it Operation Night.”

“Operation Night.” The words felt heavy on her tongue. She closed her eyes as understanding set in. She had been the bait, wriggling upon a hook.

“You knew what he was from the beginning,” she said, after she opened her eyes. “T-Teddy.” She struggled to pronounce the word. “All your talk of how elusive he was, how difficult to apprehend. Was that also false?”

“Not at all.” Algie clasped his hands behind his back. “As I have said before, one cannot simply arrest Lucian Night. He must be caught in the act, with proof that is beyond dispute.”

She remained rigid in her seat, her hands still tightly clasped. “You allowed him to court me. Yet you never intended for me to marry him.”

He laughed shortly. “Most certainly not. The day before the wedding, at the latest, the entire matter would have concluded. ”

“Why me?” Her voice was barely audible. “Why involve me at all?”

“The idea came from Night himself. His creation of the Thaddaeus Linwood persona was designed to approach me through you. He believed that binding you to him would give him power. What he did not know was that we had seen through him from the start. We allowed it to continue, as it served our purposes. He believes he is in control. The truth is: we are.” There was a quiet sense of victory in his tone, though Night had claimed precisely the opposite.

Isla picked up a small paperweight and turned it over in her hands. “And what will happen when you apprehend him?”

“He’ll be tried at the Old Bailey. He’ll most likely be sentenced to death.”

She swallowed hard. “Could he not be transported? To Botany Bay, perhaps?”

“It is highly improbable. Not for a man of his record.”

Lucian Night would hang. Teddy would hang. And she would be the one who had led him to the gallows. Not by mistake. Not by accident. She had played her part in full.

The sickness rose slowly within her.

It was justice. He had lied, deceived her, used her feelings for his own gain. He was a criminal. He deserved punishment.

And yet.

The weight of it was nearly unbearable.

“What now?” she asked, her voice scarcely above a whisper.

“The operation is nearly at an end. We intend to bring down Night and the entire Mudlark Skulls gang together. It must be done swiftly and cleanly.”

“Swiftly and cleanly,” she echoed, unable to summon any further reply.

“Yes.” Algie rested one arm lightly on the back of her chair. His gaze was steady and clear. “But for it to succeed, we must ask you to continue your role. Just a little longer. Until the end. Do you understand?”

Isla looked up at him, her heart aching.

“Sometimes,” she said quietly, “I believe I do not know you at all.”