My Kind of Scoundrel, page 23
“Half an hour won’t matter,” Aaron countered, his determination to hurt Berridge evident. “We must catch Wrotham in the act. If Franklin returns before making the exchange, it will ruin everything.”
Theo had promised Eleanor they would rescue Anna Franklin, and he would not break his vow. “We’ll have Gibbs bring Miss Franklin here. It will take two minutes to enter the shop and carry her to safety.”
“I’d never live with myself if I left her,” Eleanor said.
Aaron sighed. He was unused to negotiating with a woman. “Then you’d better pray Franklin doesn’t return and catch you in the act.”
Silent minutes passed before Theo spotted a figure in black emerging from the silversmith shop carrying a heavy valise. “Franklin is on the move. He’s heading south towards the river.”
“You’re certain it’s him?” Aaron said.
“As certain as I can be on a foggy night.”
The tension in the air intensified.
“Let me knock on Mr Franklin’s door,” Eleanor suggested. “If we’re wrong and he’s at home, I shall say I couldn’t sleep because I was worried about Anna.”
“Like hell you will.” Just thinking about her alone in the house with Franklin brought bile to Theo’s throat. “He’ll think you have romantic intentions.”
Aaron acted as peacekeeper. “As it’s almost midnight, I suspect it is Franklin. Let’s hope the Lord is on our side tonight.”
Wearing dark outdoor apparel, and with Gibbs in tow, they crossed the street to the silversmith shop. The fog was thickening, falling over the street like a shroud. With the meeting place being close to the river, Daventry would struggle to spot the villains.
Eleanor knocked on the silversmith’s door but received no reply. There wasn’t a light in any window, though the curtains upstairs were drawn.
“Step aside.” Aaron shooed them out of the way. “If we’re wrong about Franklin, let him blame me for breaking into the premises.” He didn’t barge the door with his shoulder but removed a ring of metal implements from his pocket and fiddled with the mortice lock. “A crook named One-eyed Eric taught me this trick.”
One click and Aaron opened the door.
Franklin had tidied the silver items from the floor and returned them to the cabinet. He’d even had the glass doors repaired. Had he staged the scene after losing his temper with his sister?
They found Miss Franklin asleep in bed, her head bandaged, her face deathly pale. Eleanor sat on the bed and checked Anna’s pulse before exhaling with relief.
“She’s alive, thank heavens.”
“We must hurry,” Aaron snapped. “Can you rouse her?”
Eleanor clasped Anna’s hand and patted it gently. “Anna? Can you hear me? We’re here to save you.” When she received no response, she tapped the woman’s face. “She’s definitely breathing.”
“We cannot wait.” Aaron was at the door. “I’ll head to the river and warn Daventry. It’s imperative we find them with the plates in their possession.”
Theo offered Eleanor a reassuring smile. “Another minute, then we must go. Try to rouse her again.” He glanced at Aaron. “Go. We will meet you at the bridge.”
Torn between leaving them and burying Wrotham, Aaron lingered in the doorway. He considered his dilemma before marching back to the bed.
Aaron pinched the end of Miss Franklin’s nose and waited for her to breathe through her mouth. “Miss Franklin!” He shook her shoulders.
The poor woman’s eyes shot open. She must have thought she’d died and gone to hell. “What? Help!” she cried weakly.
Aaron stepped back to let Eleanor speak. “Anna. It’s me, Eleanor Darrow. We’ve come to help you. We were told you were hurt in a robbery at the shop. Is it true?”
Miss Franklin’s eyes grew wide, then fearful. “Miss D-Darrow. You must leave before … before Geoffrey finds you here. He’s in a t-terrible mood.”
“We must go,” Aaron barked. “Gibbs, carry Miss Franklin to safety. We’ll discuss the whys and wherefores once we’ve found Franklin and Wrotham at the bridge.” Aaron glared at Theo and jerked his head towards the door. “Need I remind you why we’re here? Our pathetic cousin must suffer.”
“W-wait,” Miss Franklin whispered, her voice barely audible due to her weakened state. “In the study … there are dyes and metal plates.”
Theo instructed Gibbs to gather any evidence of forgery and then take Miss Franklin to Eleanor’s shop. “Don’t open the door until we return. Let’s pray we’re not too late.”
“Wait,” she said, gathering her strength. “Don’t go to the bridge.” She paused to catch her breath. “They’re meeting at Mr Walker’s apothecary. Geoffrey has a key.”
Gibbs confirmed the possibility. “Walker is in Oxford visiting his supplier. He said he’ll be away for two days.”
They tried to remain calm while devising another plan.
“You can access Mr Walker’s yard via William Street,” Eleanor said, jumping to her feet. “It’s why we saw Mr Franklin head south towards the river.”
“Then there’s no time to lose.” Aaron instructed Gibbs to alert Daventry and then return to deal with matters at the silversmith’s.
“How shall we proceed?” Eleanor asked as they hurried downstairs.
“We’ll enter via the yard.” Theo grabbed a silver candlestick as they raced through the shop. He’d club Wrotham to prevent him from escaping.
Aaron cursed. “We need someone impartial to witness the exchange. We’re biased. A magistrate might believe we invented the tale.”
“Miss Franklin and Lucille Bowman will testify.” Theo gripped Aaron’s arm to calm his brother’s temper. “Trust me. Fate is on our side.”
From William Street, they ventured into the dim alley, and Eleanor directed them into Mr Walker’s yard. The fog acted as a veil, and the array of wooden drying sheds gave them plenty of places to hide. The back door stood ominously open, and the sound of irate voices was carried on the cool night air.
“You’re the one who dragged me into this mess,” Franklin said with a sense of desperation. “Anna is far too inquisitive. I should have known she would discover the secret eventually.”
“No one can prove a thing.” Wrotham’s voice dripped with arrogance. “My aunt is currently enjoying the hospitality of the Plume of Feathers in Edgware and will visit Birmingham tomorrow with our current consignment. The remaining plates will be dispatched next week, marking the end of our association.”
His aunt?
Theo glanced at Aaron and grinned. Finding Mrs Dunwoody with forged plates would be the cherry on the cake.
Franklin breathed a long sigh. “What about Lady Lucille? Anna said she knows you’re a crook.”
“All peers are crooks.” Wrotham’s mocking laugh grated. “Don’t worry about Lucille. The chit’s father adores me. He wants his daughter to be the next Countess of Berridge. Lucille won’t say a word. Besides, she delivered the plates and would be considered an accessory.”
Theo felt a surge of unease.
Wrotham was right. Lady Lucille had no choice but to bow to his wishes if he escaped unpunished. Wrotham knew he could get away with murder.
“How do you know you can trust your aunt?” Franklin sounded anxious. Anxious and unpredictable. “How do I know I can trust either of you? We agreed I’d make one plate, but you blackmailed me to make more. When will it end?”
“Soon,” Wrotham reassured him. “I need you to make another pouch of those pretty sovereigns, and we—”
“No! I’ve already risked my damn neck.”
Aaron nudged Theo, his frustration palpable. “Where the hell is Daventry? We need him to catch Wrotham in the act.”
Theo shrugged. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon.”
“Don’t press me on the matter, Franklin.” Wrotham was like a master puppeteer, using his status to pull the silversmith’s strings. “No one can trace the plates back to us. I used an alias.”
Delusions of grandeur had affected Wrotham’s rationale.
Clearly, he had never encountered an inspector from the bank.
“If you’re caught passing the coins, there’ll be an investigation,” Franklin countered. “And what about your valet? He only has to mention his connections in Birmingham and we’re done for.”
“Don’t worry about my valet. He will be the victim of a terrible attack in the rookeries tomorrow night.”
Wrotham was not a spineless fool after all.
Wickedness was in his blood.
But the privileged often lost sight of reality.
Franklin agreed. “Are you mad? What began as a small favour will see us both hanged.” A pained howl escaped him. “I almost killed my sister in a fit of panic.”
“They’ll not hang a peer. It would cause civil unrest,” Wrotham sneered. “Take control of the situation. Bribe your sister with jewels. Threaten to throw her out if she utters a word.”
Franklin had heard enough. A thud and a clatter preceded him shouting, “Take the damn plates. I’m leaving. Don’t contact me again.”
“Have a care. You’ll damage the goods.”
“We can’t let either of them leave,” Aaron uttered. “Not until Daventry arrives. Where the hell is he?”
Theo’s heart raced. If Wrotham left the premises, they would lose him in the fog. And it would help the prosecution if he was found taking the forged plates from the silversmith.
“I can stall them,” Eleanor said sotto voce. “I can pretend I saw Mr Franklin and was worried about the apothecary.”
Like the day Theo saw her lying at the bottom of the stairs, his blood ran cold. “I’ll not send you into a viper pit.”
“If we don’t do something, our efforts will be in vain.” She reached for his hand and clasped it tightly. “Mr Franklin attacked me. He entered my home and watched me sleep. I’ll not rest if he escapes.”
“Miss Darrow is right,” Aaron uttered. “She can play the witless female and buy us time. Neither of them would be fool enough to hurt her.”
Every fibre of his being fought against the suggestion. “I can’t lose her.”
“I shall take a weapon, say I suspected intruders. Trust me.”
God, he wanted to believe she could succeed, but fear had him by the throat. “The minute they threaten you, I’ll put them both on their arses. Play dumb. Don’t mention the case.”
Her chin trembled as she nodded. “I can do this.”
He had never met a more courageous woman in his life.
The urge to declare his feelings overwhelmed him, but instead, it emerged as a demand. “You’ll marry me when this is over.”
A smile touched her lips. “That’s hardly a proposal worthy of the King of Hearts.”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures.” She would get a proper proposal once they’d dealt with Wrotham.
“I suggest you hurry, Miss Darrow,” Aaron whispered. “Before Franklin flees. We’ll be right behind you.”
Eleanor turned to Theo, grabbed his coat lapels and kissed him. “I love you.”
“I love you.”
He thrust the silver candlestick into her hand, but she refused it. “Franklin may recognise it and know I have been inside his premises. I shall survive on my wits.”
And with that, she crossed the threshold.
“If anything happens to her, shoot me,” Theo said.
Aaron gripped his shoulder. “Miss Darrow is a capable woman. I’m sure it’s one of the many reasons you love her.”
Miss Lovelace was a capable woman, too, but this was not the time to tease Aaron. Indeed, they crept into the house, keeping to the shadows.
“Mr Walker? Are you there?” Eleanor sounded like a concerned neighbour. “Do you know you left the back door open?” When no one answered, she shouted, “If you’re one of those terrible men from the merchant ship, know I’m going to fetch a constable.”
That got Franklin’s attention.
From his hiding place in the storeroom, Theo heard the clip of footsteps before Franklin appeared in the doorway.
“Miss Darrow? Why are you not at home in bed?”
“Mr Franklin? Is that you? Oh, thank heavens. I thought you were one of those foul men from the merchant ships.”
Wrotham was hiding in the shop, probably ducking behind the oak counter filled with dried herbs and pots of salve.
Franklin didn’t move but continued blocking the doorway. “I thought I saw a thief entering Mr Walker’s premises but was mistaken. I vowed to keep an eye on things while he’s away in Oxford.”
“That’s extremely good of you, sir. How is Anna? I can spare time tomorrow if she would like company.”
Excellent! Keep him talking.
“She woke for a little while and managed a few spoonfuls of vegetable broth. It’s our grandmother’s recipe and works wonders for an ailing constitution.”
“You’ll have to give me the recipe.”
“I’m sure Anna will when she’s recovered.”
An awkward silence ensued.
Eleanor shifted her feet. “If all is well, I should return home.”
Franklin gave an odd hum. “I would have expected to see Mr Gibbs. Does he know you’ve ventured out alone?”
Eleanor chuckled. “Oh, the poor man has barely slept these last few days. He had a second helping of stew and nodded off in the chair.”
“And you did not think to wake him?” Suspicion coated Franklin’s words. “I doubt he would approve of you sneaking about in the dark.”
Theo feared she would stumble, but she spoke with confidence. “He’ll be furious. I should return before he wakes. Don’t mention my midnight adventure if you speak to him.”
Unable to fight his attraction to her, Franklin stepped forward. “I’ll escort you home. The fog has settled. There’s no telling who’s lurking about out there. This street isn’t safe for a woman living alone.”
The knots in Theo’s stomach tightened. If Franklin laid a hand on her, he would gut him like a fish.
Franklin did lay a hand on her. More than one. He clasped Eleanor’s upper arms and rubbed gently. Theo would have charged at the devil were it not for Aaron tugging his coat.
“I wouldn’t want to see you get hurt, Eleanor.” Despite the intimate use of her given name, the remark carried a veiled threat. Franklin must have sensed her fear. “You’re afraid of me.”
“Afraid? No, I’m not,” she said in a playful tone.
“You flinched when I touched you.”
“Because you’re not usually so familiar.”
“You’re lying. You looked over my shoulder as if you’d seen someone inside the shop. How long were you lingering outside?”
Wrotham didn’t give her time to answer. He suspected she had come to spy and called to Franklin. “Bring her here. Don’t let her feminine wiles sway you. We cannot afford a mistake.”
Franklin froze and muttered, “I’ve hurt one woman. I’ll not hurt another.” He bowed his head. “Run, Eleanor. Go, before it’s too late.” When Eleanor failed to move, Franklin said, “I am escorting Miss Darrow home. We will continue this conversation when I return.”
Wrotham appeared in the darkness, a few feet behind Franklin. “If you leave, I’ll expect your full co-operation. You’ll fulfil one more order.” A mocking chuckle escaped him. “Women are your weakness, not mine.”
Wrotham sounded like a seasoned criminal, not a dandy whose valet dressed him each morning. Unlike London’s most dangerous rogues, his lackey wasn’t afraid of him. They had reached a stalemate.
Theo’s heart pounded in his chest.
One snap decision, and Franklin could break Eleanor’s neck. Indeed, he stared at her as if in a trance, unsure what to do.
“You’ll dangle from the scaffold if you fail to deal with her,” Wrotham’s bitter voice echoed from the darkness. “End it now. I’ll take care of things. I shall be the one to tell my cousin his betrothed has met her maker.”
Eleanor gasped when Franklin firmed his grip. He snarled at her like a blood-thirsty beast, anger bloating his cheeks. “You should have stayed at home, Miss Darrow.”
Unable to wait or risk losing her, Theo stepped out from behind the tall cupboard and met Franklin’s gaze. “Release her,” he muttered.
Recognition dawned in Franklin’s eyes, but he did not raise his hands and surrender. “I’ll not let that bastard escape unpunished.” Fury built inside him, his shoulders rising, his chest expanding. A growl escaped him as he turned on his heel and charged at Wrotham.
Chaos erupted.
Daventry burst in through the front door.
Theo raced to Eleanor and pulled her into his arms.
Aaron charged to Daventry’s side while Franklin punched Wrotham to the floor and smacked his head repeatedly on the wooden boards.
Another fight ensued when Aaron dragged Franklin away. One punch from Aaron’s fist left the silversmith unconscious.
For lengthy seconds, no one moved, only breathed.
“Cole, fetch a doctor for Lord Wrotham,” Daventry said to his agent. “Hurry. And fetch Harper from The Morning Post. He lives at 7 Fleet Street, a minute’s walk from here. I’ll not have Wrotham worm his way out of this.”
“I’ll fetch Harper,” Aramis said.
While Theo consoled Eleanor, Aaron checked Wrotham’s pulse. Blood circled his head in a crimson halo. His lip was cut, his eye bruised.
“Make sure Harper knows he happened to be walking by.” Daventry crouched, opened the leather valise and examined the metal plates. “There are five here, all for different banks. One for the Bristol Bank, another for Attwood and Spooner.”
“How much did you hear?” Theo asked.
“Enough to make a statement saying Wrotham was blackmailing the silversmith to commit bank fraud. Franklin will hang, of course. He was hardly an innocent party.”
“Mr Franklin hurt his sister,” Eleanor said, wrapping her arms around Theo’s waist. “I believe he hit her with a blunt object. She will need a doctor, too. I doubt her brother sent for one.”
When the doctor arrived, Daventry’s agent went to find a constable and summon the Home Secretary. The journalist from The Morning Post arrived, half-dressed and breathless. He looked over the scene, spoke to Daventry and left.
