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“You.” The bludgeoner made only the briefest attempt to struggle away from Hodges, but that was more likely an effort to be able to pull his pants up.

“Ah, Christ, Fitzroy. Can’t even let a man drain hisself without burstin’ in like some highborn bastard lookin’ to gloat?

Now it looks like I’ve gone an’ pissed me fuckin’ drawers. ”

Peregrine smiled wickedly, showing all of his teeth. “By all means, do not worry about stopping on my account. My man has left you a hand free.”

Glaring at him, Red Hand made a point of shaking himself left-handed before shoving his parts back into his pants. “Ah, grand. Took yer bleedin’ time, didn’t ye? Was wondering if you’d grow a spine at last to come to finish it proper.”

“You have noticed my mother’s associates going missing, then.”

Red gave him an incredulous laugh. “I’d have to be blind as a priest in a brothel not to notice the corpses you’ve been droppin’ on me bloody doorstep.

That’s just rude, Fitzroy. That bridge wasn’t personal.

Strictly business, so it was. Just a friendly little message, like, with perhaps the exception of that one.

” He jerked his chin in Hodges’ direction.

“You’re not meant to kill the messengers.

And I don’t like you leaving your trash in my yard. ”

As he had feared, his mother’s web of contacts weren’t in hiding. They were being silenced. Thoroughly. Interesting, though, that Red Hand thought he was the one doing it.

He kept his expression bland. “I sent you one of your messengers back.”

“As a cripple, oh aye.” Red Hand tottered like a drunk for a moment, and then when both men were unbalanced, he spun outward, turning on Hodges, landing a savage left hook unexpectedly on Hodges’ jaw.

Perry’s man slipped and staggered, losing his grip. And as Red Hand slid a knife from his pocket to gut Hodges like a fish, Peregrine stepped in quickly, buckling Red Hand’s leg with a well placed boot to the back of his knee.

Red Hand fell with a grunt, landing hard with that knee on the cobbles. But Perry didn’t wait for him to recover his balance. He pushed in close, and drove his elbow into the base of the brute’s skull, felling him like a great, hairy tree.

Shaking the numbness out of his arm, Peregrine sent the knife skittering away with a kick. And then he planted his bootheel on the back of the stunned man’s neck to keep him from regaining his feet.

Stirring from her slumber in his thoughts, Marian Fitzroy looked down through his eyes and smiled.

“Trust you to be soddin’ left-handed,” Hodges snarled, shaking his head as if to reorder his brains after having his bell rung. Quickly, he steadied and drew his pistol, and Peregrine stepped away from the Irishman.

“Ha, hahaha,” Red gasped as he lay against the cobbles, shaking with laughter and spitting blood.

“I would appreciate a good joke myself,” Perry said, slipping his hand casually into his pocket to withdraw the knife. Just in case.

“You didn’t know.” Red rolled over onto his side, flopping like a beached fish.

“You’re not the one who did for your mum’s lads.

Don’t waste breath lyin’. If it’d been you, that two-faced bastard of yours would’ve slit me feckin’ throat, not given me a wee love tap to the skull with a brick wall.

And we wouldn’t be at this little jig now, would we?

You pokin’ around to see what I know, tryin’ not to show your hand. ”

At a distance far enough the man couldn’t reach, Peregrine squatted down on his haunches to better look Red Hand in the face, resting his elbows on his knees as he lazily spun the knife in his hand.

“That fancy footwork of yours was clever, I’ll give ye that.

Had me thinkin’ Hodges was the only one who knew how to stir a real scrap.

Turns out you’ve a bit of fire too.” Red Hand propped himself up on his elbow, swiping the blood off his chin.

“Ah now, don’t go bilin’ over just ’cause you’ve had your measure taken.

There’s worse ways for your night to take a turn.

And look. Now I know somethin’. You and me, seems we’ve got the same problem.

And in a place like this? I reckon that is enough to make us friends. ”

“Then tell me, friend , why I should take anything you say as truth instead of a load of bollocks? Especially if you thought I was the one doing the dirty work?”

Red Hand sucked in his breath through his teeth and hocked a bloody gob of spit to one side. “No reason to lie. Death’s bad for business. I reckon you’d know that for yourself too.”

“Why did you think it was me, instead of someone trying to make their own opportunities?” Peregrine asked him. “Did you think it was just revenge?”

“The number of bodies have been an education, so they have. Properties changin’ hands, a few well-placed fires. Clean work, bloody and single-minded. Wipin’ out every last trace of her little empire, like it never was. That takes either fierce devotion or deep pockets. And you, well…”

“Would have both.”

“Mmm,” Red agreed. “But since it’s not you? Well, then the pockets. Or some other man so cold he’s what others whisper about when the lamps go out.”

Camerons’ business with Bow Street disappeared so quickly that it could only have been someone powerful aiding him .

Peregrine said nothing, thinking, and Red Hand kept talking to fill the silence.

“I have to say, I always thought yer mum had castrated ye. But seems I was wrong. I rather like this new you, lad. You might just have enough smarts and balls to survive. ”

Smiling thinly, Peregrine stood, putting his knife away and giving Hodges a comprehensive glance. “Get up,” he said to the man on the ground. “You want to be friends, Red?”

“I’d like to think we could form what you guvs call a polite understanding with one another, aye?”

“I am sure, in the interest of friendship, of course, you would let me know then whether or not you still have any contract on me or Duchess Atholl.”

“The bridge was the only bit of work that came to me directly. Cameron mostly liked keeping his dirty work personal. Or maybe he was just a cheap bastard.” Red wiped his oozing face again with the back of his hand.

“But to show you I’m working in good faith, I will let you know that the duchess is still on the black books.

The open ones. And there’s a large reward for anyone with a mind to take the risk on it.

Bounty’s already sitting with the bookkeeper. ”

Perry’s blood turned to ice in his veins, and his heart stuttered. Though he struggled to control his expression, his brows drew together before he could halt them.

“I’ll tell my men not to try to claim it,” Red added thoughtfully, studying Peregrine’s face. “But that’s the best I can do for your lady friend.”

“Generous of you, Red. I… will be in touch.”

Inclining his head, Peregrine turned and walked away, towards where he and Hodges had left the horses. Behind him, he could hear Hodges’ boots following at a steady pace.

His gorge was rising with every step, and as he reached for the reins of his mount, he pressed his forehead briefly against the horse’s neck, swallowing back the acid building in his throat.

Just for a moment, a few breaths. Then he shook off the persona of his mother and swung himself into the saddle.

Hodges waited, turned, until he was astride.

“I have a task for you that I cannot do myself,” he said to Hodges after they had been riding at a trot back towards Mayfair for a few minutes.

“I need you to go to Bow Street. Now. Before I came to you, there was a riot at Burlington House. Find out, if you can, who these men were. They were hired by someone. Whatever information you can talk them out of, bring it to me.”

Bless Hodges, who again didn’t ask any questions or argue. “Where should I find you when it’s done?”

Peregrine considered his options. However much their acquaintanceship had spurs, it felt unkind to repay Lord Ravenscroft and his valet with trouble.

And trouble was definitely in the wind. Going back to White’s also felt like a poor choice.

“I will go back to the estate tonight. Assuming your nephew does not try to shoot me for entering my own home, that is.”

“He won’t,” his man said complacently. “Taught the lad everythin’ he knows.”

“Your sister must be thrilled with you as an uncle.”

Hodges only grunted. And then at the next cross street, he turned off, heading towards Bow Street.

The clocks were striking half past three by the time Peregrine reached Grosvenor Square, and he was beginning to grow weary. But there was one more stop he felt compelled to make before he sought his bed.

Atholl House was dark and silent, save the light cast by the lanterns of the men standing guard, and it reassured him to see that she was still being protected.