That certainly roused her curiosity. “Oh?”
“You might remember that you asked Mr. Hornbuckle to put me to investigating that Captain Pryce.”
Oh, dear, this couldn’t be good. “Yes, I remember.”
“He decided as how you were right, so I been watching the man.”
Only with difficulty did she stifle a groan. “Glad to hear it. And what have you discovered about the villain?”
He cast her a sly look. “Come now, m’lady, we both know he ain’t no villain.”
Could he really know the truth? Oh, of course he did. Mr.
Fitch was a police officer. Lord Ravenswood had probably informed the police of Morgan’s true purpose. Indeed, that would explain why Mr. Fitch and Mr. Hornbuckle had been so reluctant to pursue Morgan’s “criminal” activities.
But if that were the case, why had Mr. Hornbuckle told Mr. Fitch to investigate? Perhaps it would be safer to pretend ignorance in this matter. “I can’t imagine what you mean.”
“Don’t play me for a fool, m’lady. I spoke to that chap Ravenswood from the Home Office this evening. It was clear that he and the captain were up to something. I dare say you know it as well.”
So
that
was where Morgan and Ravenswood had gone—to an assignation of some sort with Mr. Fitch, and probably with the magistrate, too.
But Mr. Fitch spoke as if he himself weren’t involved in the attempt to capture the Specter and perhaps didn’t even know the details. Since she had no idea how much she could say about it, she’d best continue playing dumb. “If they are up to something, I don’t know what it is. Surely you don’t think they’d tell a woman.”
“Why not? If they’re working to catch that Specter villain, which is what I expect they’re doing, they might think you could help.”
“Don’t be absurd. How could I possibly help?”
“I was hoping you could tell me, or at least reveal how far they’ve got with it.”
That gave her pause. “Why do you care?”
He shrugged. “A capture of the Specter is a big affair. My office ought to be part of it. There’s a hefty reward for the villain, y’know.” He looked put out. “Seems to me they oughtn’t run the investigation without sharing the profits with those of us who make our living in this part of town.”
That made sense. But she wished that Morgan were here to deal with this. She knew nothing of the politics of police in
vestigations. Would Mr. Fitch normally be entitled to the reward? Had Ravenswood slighted him by not involving him?
All she knew was she couldn’t help him. She rose quickly. “Truly, Mr. Fitch, you’ll have to speak to Lord Ravenswood about this matter. I’m not involved with such endeavors.” Smoothing down her skirts, she started toward the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go. I promised Lucy—”
“Tell me about his lordship’s association with the cap’n.”
She halted short of the door to look at him. “I can’t tell you what I don’t know anything about.”
“You needn’t pretend with me, y’see.” His knowing smile shot a tendril of unease curling down her spine. “I know that you and the cap’n have—shall we say—an
intimate
friendship.”
Alarm sprang in her belly. He couldn’t possibly know about her and Morgan. He had to be guessing. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Of course you do. You’re lovers, the cap’n and you. That’s the only possible reason you spent the night with him in his shop.”
How could he know about that? “You’re mad if you think—”
“I was watching the cap’n, remember? Like Mr. Hornbuckle told me to. I saw you go in late at night, and I saw you go out in the wee hours of the morn.”
Feeling her reputation slip away from her with his every comment, she frantically tried to salvage the situation. “If you did, then you saw Lucy shoot the captain. Yes, I did stay there, but only to help him with his wound.”
He snorted. “You helped him seduce you, that’s what.”
“I can’t imagine why you would think that,” she protested, reminding herself that it was his word against hers. “I’ll wager you didn’t even wait the whole night, or you would have seen the Specter there—”
She broke off as his eyes narrowed. Oh, dear, she’d said too much. She wasn’t supposed to have known the Specter was there. And if Mr. Fitch
had
seen the Specter and was so eager to get the reward, he should have arrested the man right there. It wasn’t as if he wouldn’t have known who the black-cloaked figure was. Everybody knew.
Yet he hadn’t attempted to arrest either Morgan or the Specter. Not to mention that he seemed awfully sure of Morgan’s relationship to her, and the only person who knew about that for a certainty was…
Pasting a smile to her lips, she backed toward the door. “Anyway, it hardly matters. I know nothing about the investigation, as I told you. If you want to hear the details, you should speak to Captain Pryce or his lordship. Now I really must go, so if you’ll excuse me—”
“That’s impossible, my lady,” Mr. Fitch said, his voice altering subtly to one that was deeper, more refined, more menacing. As her heart sank, she saw him draw a pistol from his coat and aim it at her. “I’m afraid I can no longer allow you to leave.”
The giant declared he’d devour
For breakfast who dared to come near;
And leizurely did Blunderbore
Walk heavily into the snare.
“
The History of Jack the Giant-Killer
,”
edition by J. G. Rusher, Anonymous
“W
hat do you mean, Clara’s not here?” Morgan demanded of his brother’s butler.
The butler cast him his usual lofty look. “Lady Clara left a short while ago in a hackney carriage, accompanied by a young lady named Perkins.”
Morgan could only gape at him. “Lucy? Lucy was
here
?”
Sebastian and Juliet, apparently having heard him and Ravenswood in the foyer, came out to greet them.
“What’s this about Clara leaving with Lucy in a hack?” Morgan demanded.
Juliet shrugged. “Miss Perkins came to request Lady
Clara’s help. As I recall, it concerned a police officer named Fitch. He’d arrested one of the boys from the Home.”
“Fitch has certainly been busy tonight,” Ravenswood commented. “Don’t you find that curious?”
“Indeed I do,” Morgan said, as the hair rose on the back of his neck.
“I believe the young lady had refused the man’s suit,” Juliet added helpfully. “And apparently he retaliated by arresting her brother. Or something like that.”
Though the explanation was perfectly plausible, it disturbed Morgan. He turned to Ravenswood. “How much do you know about Rodney Fitch?”
“Only what I told you. He acts like a Dogberry, but he’s quite competent as a—”
“Dogberry!” Juliet exclaimed. “I
knew
I’d heard the name Fitch before.”
Morgan cast her a cursory glance. “What are you talking about? How would you know anything about a police officer in Spitalfields?”
“No, no, this man wasn’t a police officer. He was an actor with a traveling troupe that came to Stratford when I was…oh, twelve, I suppose.” Juliet’s family lived in Stratford-upon-Avon and were great enthusiasts of the theater, particularly Shakespeare. “Come to think of it, that Mr. Fitch’s Christian name was Rodney, too. And he acted the best Dogberry I have ever seen. That’s why I remember him so well. He had us all rolling with laughter.”
Morgan felt the blood drain from him. “Describe this actor, Juliet.”
She frowned, then did as he asked. Morgan heard Ravenswood’s sharp intake of breath, and apprehension knotted in his gut. He turned to Ravenswood. “Does it sound like him?”
“Afraid so.”
“He’s been playing a role all along,” Morgan said, feeling the blood congeal in his veins. “He’s been playing Dogberry. Because who would suspect a bumbling Dogberry to be the most notorious criminal in Spitalfields?”
“It would certainly explain why Fitch was at the shop tonight.” A frown creased Ravenswood’s brow. “He wasn’t there to investigate you. Or at least not on behalf of the authorities. He was there to sniff out a trap.”
“And when he saw you, he realized what we were about, so he left.” Morgan’s alarm grew. “The Specter did say he had connections in the police offices—I just never imagined they were so close.”
“This might also explain Fitch’s success at catching criminals. Whenever the Specter wanted to remove a competitor or eliminate someone who’d betrayed him, he knew right where to go and how to catch them. I suppose if Jonathan Wild could do it a hundred years ago, the Specter certainly could.” Ravenswood shook his head. “Still, an actor become a ruthless criminal? It seems unbelievable.”
“Not to me. Perhaps he tired of never having money, and saw another way to use his talents. I always did think the Specter had a strange knack for manipulating his voice. And there’s his uncanny ability to escape capture—he probably disguised himself every time. As an actor, it would have been easy. He probably used padding beneath the cloak to make himself look husky, for example.”
“But how did he manage that effect you described—of having no face beneath that cloak of his—”
“Face paint,” Morgan said grimly. “Black face paint. At night with the cloak, he’d look nearly invisible.” His heart thundered in his chest. “But what in God’s name would he want with Clara?”
“A way to lure you?” Ravenswood answered, paling.
“I don’t think so. If he wanted me, he would have caught
me in a dark alley later this evening and slit my throat.” He turned to Juliet. “Did Lucy say where she’d been? How had the girl known to come here?”
The butler answered. “She told me, sir, that she’d come from Lady Clara’s home. They’d sent her over.”
“Good. So Fitch doesn’t know that we know he has Clara. Not yet anyway. Besides which, I don’t think he’s made the connection between Morgan Blakely and Morgan Pryce, so even if he’d known that Lucy would end up here, he wouldn’t know what that meant. That will work in our favor.” He glanced to the butler. “Did the women happen to say where they were going from here?”
“No, sir, I’m sorry. They left in a hack, so I didn’t hear where they were headed.”
“Probably not the jail,” Ravenswood put in. “The arrest of the boy was undoubtedly just a ruse, and Fitch would want privacy, anyway.”
Morgan’s hands grew clammy with fear. “Yes, but privacy for what?”
Sebastian stepped forward. “Do you mind telling me what the devil is going on?”
“I don’t have time to explain,” Morgan snapped.
Sebastian glared at Ravenswood. “He’s been working for you again, hasn’t he? Despite the wager, despite what he promised—”
“Morgan is my best man,” Ravenswood retorted, looking distinctly unrepentant. “I was certainly not going to stop making use of him simply because you two came up with that silly wager.”
“Morgan!” Juliet cried. “How could you?”
“I’m sorry, Juliet,” Morgan bit out. “I don’t have time for lectures right now. Lady Clara is in danger.”
That changed everything. Juliet paled and grabbed hold of her husband’s arm.
Sebastian squared his shoulders. “Tell me what to do. I want to help.”
Morgan hesitated, but this was no time to refuse a perfectly good offer. “She’s with Fitch, but we don’t know where. My guess would be his house, but I’m really not sure.” He gazed at his brother’s worried features. “If you want to help, why don’t you go to Stanbourne Hall and see if the servants know where Lucy came from or where she was headed? And see if you can find a footman named Samuel. He’ll know where Fitch might go, and he’s sweet on Lucy besides. Once you find out what you can, head for Lady Clara’s institution in Spitalfields.” He rattled off the address. “We’ll all meet there.”
He turned to Ravenswood. “You go to Hornbuckle’s and find out where Fitch lives, then meet us at the Home. I’ll go to Tufton’s Tavern. Since Lucy lives there, they may know Fitch’s address. Or perhaps she’ll have told them where she was going.”
“Surely he wouldn’t be fool enough to hurt her, now that he knows you’re working for the authorities.”
“I don’t know. The man has always been unpredictable.” Morgan felt a wave of futility overwhelm him. Suddenly he was thirteen again and watching helplessly as a man beat his mother.
He shook off the memory. He might have failed to protect his mother, but he would not fail in this. He couldn’t. Otherwise, life would simply not be worth living. “He won’t be expecting us to look for him,” Morgan said evenly. “That’s one thing in our favor. So let’s take advantage of it.”
And pray that Clara was clever enough to survive on her own until they could get to her.
Mr. Fitch gestured with the muzzle of his pistol to indicate that Clara should move away from the door. His mo
tions were far more assured and controlled than Lucy’s had been that night in the alley, and Clara found that distinctly disturbing.
“You’ve proven a more clever woman than I realized,” he said in that cool, refined voice so different from his earlier one. “Apparently clever enough to gain the captain’s confidence. I didn’t expect him to tell you that he’d met up with the Specter in the alley. It’s a pity he did, because now I can’t let you leave.”
“I-I don’t see why not. What has it to do with you and me?”
“Don’t play the fool with me!” he ground out. “You’ve figured out who I am, and I can’t allow you to tell anybody else.”
She
had
figured it out, hadn’t she? The Specter was here in the flesh, even if he wasn’t hefty the way Morgan had described. And he might prefer to use a knife when he played the ghost, but clearly when playing himself, he used the more practical pistol.
If she weren’t careful, she’d receive all the benefits of such practicality. “I truly have no idea—”
“Captain Pryce told you, didn’t he? He told you everything that night, all about why I was there.” He scowled. “I should have known better than to believe what he said about you and him. That tale alone should have shown me the trap was closing on me. You would never have let him bed you unless you knew he wasn’t really a criminal. Because you’re far too moral—and too intelligent—to be manipulated by a real fence.”