My Rogue to Ruin, page 20
She returned Adrian’s hands to her hips and began the slow, careful waddle back toward the dressing room door, taking care not to bump into anything unexpected along the way.
Her fingers curled about the door handle. Marjorie did not know what to expect on the other side. Nothing for it. They’d made it this far. All they could do was press on.
Marjorie turned the handle.
29
Adrian squinted into the unexpected brightness of a dimly lit corridor. Muted candlelight emanated from several sconces. After the utter blackness of Snowley’s dressing room, the weak flicker felt like spears of light shooting from the sun.
Marjorie relaxed visibly.
As elated as Adrian was to see again, he was not entirely certain it was cause for celebration. There was no protective cover of darkness to keep him and Marjorie out of view… and out of the line of fire.
Up ahead, the hallway took a sharp left. Halfway down that corridor was their workroom—and the two armed guards who believed Adrian and Marjorie to be in their workroom.
“Tell me you have a plan,” he whispered into her working ear.
She held up a hand and wiggled the fingers. “I have five different plans.”
“Which is the one most likely to succeed?”
She glanced down the hall.
“No sign of Grinders yet,” Marjorie whispered. “Which means we have somewhere between five minutes and five seconds before he appears in the corridor and starts shooting.”
“Marvelous. Do something Wynchester-y to save us from certain doom.” He waved her forward.
“All right.” She lowered the material of her bodice.
The befuddled face of a sleepy hedgehog poked out.
“That cannot be our secret weapon.” He clasped his hands together in supplication. “Please tell me there’s more to the plan than Tickletums.”
“First, we need to…” She dashed to a window, hauled up the glass, and tossed a handful of seashells out into the street.
“Are you summoning Poseidon?” he mouthed.
“A force even more powerful,” she whispered back. “From the roof, the shells look like normal detritus, but the operatives stationed in the street below will know—”
Two dozen well-dressed ladies bearing candles and little baskets appeared out of nowhere. They began singing “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen” at the top of their lungs.
“It’s July,” Adrian said in wonder. “What’s in the baskets? Bombs? Mistletoe?”
“Blackberries.” Marjorie slid the window shut and closed the curtains. “Those berries are Tickletums’s favorite.”
“What does that have to do with—”
She darted away from him down the corridor, heading straight to the turn where Grinders stood just around the corner with a loaded pistol at his side.
Adrian cursed under his breath and sprinted after her.
Marjorie stopped so suddenly three feet from the end of the corridor that he almost hurtled into her like a lawn ball barreling down a bowling green.
She held up three fingers, then lowered one, then lowered the second.
An ear-piercing shriek rent the air.
Footsteps sounded just on the other side of the corridor. Footsteps leaving. Grinders had been close enough to the corner that they almost could have heard him breathe.
Marjorie removed Tickletums from her bodice.
“What are you doing?” Adrian whispered.
“That was Elizabeth throwing her voice. It might have been enough to clear the corridor of both guards, but just in case…” She lifted the hedgehog. “No plan without a contingency.”
“What will Tickletums do? Dodge bullets?”
“Chase after blackberries.” Marjorie set the hedgehog down on the hardwood floor. She placed Grinders’s silver hatpin into the creature’s mouth and gave his prickly bottom a little pat. “Go get those berries, sir. Show those pompous guards what a homing hedgehog can do.”
Tickletums took off around the corner, heading toward the stairs—and all those baskets of blackberries—with surprising alacrity.
“What the devil?” came Grinders’s distant voice. “He’s got my hatpin! Get back here, you little—”
His voice faded.
Marjorie grinned at Adrian. “Shall we make a dash for it whilst the corridor is clear?”
“Let’s.” He hooked his arm around hers and raced toward the workroom.
They made it inside and closed the door seconds before Joey’s and Grinders’s shouts filled the hallway. Adrian lowered his ear to the keyhole.
“Fat little bastard shot between Ruby’s legs like a greased pig,” Joey said in astonishment and admiration.
“That’s the second oddity today. You don’t think someone’s trying to distract us from…”
“We’d better make sure.”
Adrian grabbed Marjorie’s hand and yanked her over to the worktable. They were both studiously polishing counterfeit coins when the door swung open to reveal the mean, suspicious gazes of Joey and Grinders.
“Lost, lads?” Adrian gestured toward the window with a chalk mold. “Best pub in the neighborhood is in that direction.”
The guards exchanged relieved glances.
“I’ve had about enough of your humor, Webb,” Joey snapped. “Mind your mouth when you talk to me, or I’ll have Ruby sew it shut.”
“If he can’t eat, he can’t counterfeit,” Marjorie pointed out. “And then Snowley will be vexed with you.”
Adrian smirked. “If your wit isn’t sharp enough for light banter, you’d best keep to your post rather than interrupt us at our task.”
Joey made a sound like a raging bull and charged forward.
Grinders blocked his path and shoved his confederate back out into the corridor. “Leave him. He’s not worth it. You know Webb is nothing but a…”
The insult was lost as the door closed behind them.
Adrian and Marjorie tossed the chalk molds onto the table and threw themselves into each other’s embrace in relief and exultation. This kiss was different from the others. It was more than pent-up passion. It was elation, vindication, and triumph all in one. It was a kiss that recognized how much stronger they were together as a team. A kiss that promised there was even better yet to come.
“You,” Adrian said when they paused for air, “were magnificent.”
Marjorie sent him an impish grin. “Wait until you see what’s next.”
30
By nine of the clock the next morning, Marjorie’s faux IOU signed by what appeared to be Snowley himself was ready and waiting for Adrian to supply the coup de grâce.
He had spent all night creating a perfect replica of Snowley’s ring. Well, not visual perfection. The seal on Snowley’s ring was made of hand-carved stone, whereas Adrian’s duplicate was made of the same tin-and-pewter mix he and Marjorie were using to forge coins.
But it was otherwise identical, down to the last detail. Every flourish, every flaw, would be represented in the wax exactly as if it had been placed there by Snowley’s own hand.
He lifted a corner of the letter. “With luck, one copy will suffice.”
“We don’t need luck.” She tapped the side of her head. “We have my memory and your talent.”
“Our talents,” he replied.
Marjorie had sifted through an entire stack of Snowley’s contracts, amassed by her brother Graham.
She was the one who noticed it wasn’t just the special mark and the scented wax, but also a certain pressure and angle when applying the stone seal to the melted wax. Even if they’d had Snowley’s actual ring, if they didn’t wield it just so, it wouldn’t look right at the end.
Marjorie was in charge of that step. Adrian had duplicated the ring, but only she could tilt it into an angle of total perfection.
“Once we do this,” he said, “Snowley will know the truth.”
“He was always going to know he never drafted any such vowels.”
“I don’t mean the IOU. He could suspect we worked together to forge this. I will claim I worked alone, but only a fool would still trust you. And Snowley is no fool.”
“He’s no fool,” Marjorie agreed, “but he is limited to his world. You have never shown interest in joining his crew, which is why he had to force you into it to begin with.”
“You don’t think he’ll paint you with the same brush?”
“Like the rest of his staff, I came here willingly to be part of his criminal family. Snowley believes all I care about is earning a piece of the Grandfather of St. Giles’s money.”
“The powerful lording over the powerless is the only kind of relationship he understands.”
She nodded. “It’s what he knows and what he expects. You might have the money and means to get on without him, but Mary-from-the-rookery does not. Snowley doesn’t think he has to manipulate me. Life has done the difficult part for him.”
“He saw me… kissing you.”
“He saw more than that.” Her cheeks flushed. “Which also works to my benefit. You’re a conscienceless rake. I’m a naïve, simple girl. Of course you would take advantage. Of course I’m not clever enough to know better. I could even pretend to betray some confidence of yours in a blatant attempt to curry favor with Snowley. He’ll trust me, inasmuch as he trusts anyone.”
“And he has no such confidence in me,” Adrian finished dryly. “I began our acquaintance by lying and cheating, and am only here under duress. This latest treachery won’t come as a surprise. The part I most dislike about the plan is your involvement. Once my sister is out from under his thumb, I’ll be free to go—and you’ll still be stuck here.”
She shook her head. “Once your sister’s IOUs are in your possession and Lady Iris is no longer at risk, we immediately launch into step two.”
He paused. “Everything that’s happened up until now… was step one?”
She nodded as she pressed the counterfeit seal into the hardening wax.
“Good God. What’s step two? Outright war?”
“The law,” she answered. “My family is sending a team of Bow Street Runners over later today.”
“I thought there wasn’t enough direct evidence to arrest him.”
“There is in the treasure chamber,” Marjorie said. “We’ll have the Runners search the stronghold as a personal favor to the esteemed Duke of Faircliffe himself.”
“Where there’s treasure, there’s evidence? You’re assuming something in that room will tip Snowley’s hand.”
“We’ll tip it for him. My family has been collecting affidavits from the men and women Snowley swindled with counterfeit coins. Singly, not one of the victims is willing to speak out against him, but together as a group, their voices will be heard. He could retaliate against one person without consequences, but he cannot take revenge on dozens of people throughout London at once.”
Excitement filled Adrian’s chest. “The treasure chamber won’t just prove their stories are true. It’s also likely to reveal other crimes you and I don’t even have knowledge of.”
She held up a chalk mold. “We have knowledge of this fraud.”
“You can’t implicate yourself! Counterfeiting is a capital crime.”
“It won’t come to that.” Marjorie lifted up the letter in triumph. “All dry and ready for trouble.”
Adrian looked at Marjorie instead of at the seal. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her shining face. She was so bloody competent. And quickly becoming one of the most important things in his life. The more she elbowed her way into his heart, the more entrenched Marjorie became in the short list of people Adrian would defend to the death.
He plucked the letter from her hand. Rather than inspect the contents, he pushed the paper onto the worktable and pulled Marjorie into his arms instead. At this moment, he wasn’t looking for a way out. He was looking for a way in. He wanted her to feel even half as ardently toward him as he did every time he looked at her.
As Adrian’s eyes fluttered closed, his lips lowered to hers. Had he thought gazing at her was dangerous? Her taste was a thousand times more so. The warmth of her soft body nestled against his should have made him tread with caution and tenderness. Instead, he crushed her to him, possessively, demandingly, clinging tight as though she were the one solid boulder amid a maelstrom.
Perhaps she was. She’d certainly grounded him when he’d believed himself lost to the wind. What would he do once she was gone? What could he do to make her stay?
Not under this roof, of course. But what else could he offer? He had no home, no land. A rented studio in Paris, but even a secret romantic like Adrian wasn’t fool enough to believe the Continent would tempt her. She was a Wynchester.
Wynchesters lived in London. Wynchesters were good.
Whereas Adrian… was everything a good man would never wish for Marjorie to find. A liar, a scoundrel, a restless, shiftless vagabond with more charm than morals. She deserved someone who matched her in intellect, in optimism, in philanthropy. She deserved a hero, not a villain.
And yet Adrian could not bring himself to let her go. To unwrap his strong arms from her slight frame. To lift his unyielding mouth from her inviting lips.
To accept that this was as good as goodbye.
At that wrenching thought, he broke his lips from hers. Not to pull away, but to haul her close. To press her to his chest, right there against the heart she made thunder so violently. He held her as tight as he dared without hurting her, and settled his cheek against the softness of her hair to breathe in her essence.
She was so sweet, it pained him. So mischievous, it charmed him. So unpredictable, it dazed him. So Marjorie, that just being near her made him feel as though he were welcome in the heavens.
She tilted her face back and placed a kiss on the underside of his jaw. “What was that for?”
“I was seducing you,” he said automatically. “Take off your clothes.”
“You were snuggling me,” she corrected, and cuddled him back. “I liked it.”
So did Adrian. Far, far too much.
31
It was midafternoon before the guards responded to Adrian’s request to have audience with Snowley somewhere other than the stifling workroom.
Joey ushered Adrian and Marjorie into the same suffocating, windowless parlor Snowley had forced Adrian to wait in on his first day, back when he’d still believed Snowley would be an easy mark to trick, and that there would be no problem walking away.
Now Adrian knew better.
He motioned for Marjorie to take the comfortable armchair and settled himself in the closest one to her side. They were about to enact Marjorie’s extraction plan for Iris. Her plan, her extraction. She would finally get to be the hero of her family.
And at long last, so would Adrian.
The Grandfather of St. Giles did not bother to hide his annoyance as he strode into the waiting room.
“You do not summon me,” Snowley enunciated. “Under this roof, you are not lord. I am.”
“About that,” Adrian said. “I’m leaving.”
Surprise flickered across Snowley’s face. “Are you, now? How interesting. There are two lads in the corridor and others posted elsewhere who don’t believe you’re going anywhere.”
“They don’t have to believe it,” Adrian said. Nervous excitement rushed through him. “They’ll watch it happen.”
“We have a contract,” Snowley drawled, bored again. “If this posturing is for Mary’s sake, save us the charade. She’s already willing to let you have your way with her. And with me, you’ll get nowhere.”
Marjorie inspected her fingernails as though she had no idea what trick was up Adrian’s sleeve, but her alert gaze kept flicking up toward Snowley in concentration.
Adrian stretched out his legs and crossed one over the other. “Any contract with you was signed under duress.”
“Your word, my word.” Snowley gave a little shrug. “You and I both know I don’t need a contract.” He patted his lapel. “I carry your sister’s vowels.”
“For now,” Adrian agreed. “You’re about to hand them over.”
“Am I?” Snowley chuckled. “And why should I do that?”
“Because I have this.” Adrian pulled the forged IOU from inside his waistcoat.
Snowley’s smile disappeared. “What is that?”
Adrian unrolled the parchment and held it up for Snowley to view.
“I never signed that!” he sputtered. “That’s not even my… You forged my handwriting? And my insignia?”
“Is it a forgery?” Marjorie asked innocently. “It looks exactly the same as the one on Lord Adrian’s contracts.”
Snowley snatched the foolscap from Adrian’s hands and stalked over to the fireplace to examine it in the light. “It does look identical. And it’s in my hands, you fool. All I need to do is rip this up and toss it into these flames—”
“Oh dear.” Marjorie stepped closer. “Would it be very bad if there was another copy?”
“Another… another copy? Yes, it would be bad, you daft— Hand the duplicate over to me at once.”
Marjorie made an expression of pure misery, as though unable to lift her eyes to meet Snowley’s. “I’m afraid I can’t. He had me give it to a boy to post.”
“What boy? When?”
“The night before you said I couldn’t leave anymore.”
“Of all the… I should never have let you leave! I won’t make that mistake again, I can assure you.” Snowley’s face flushed with color. “Where did this letter get posted to?”
Marjorie gave him a bewildered look. “How should I remember?”
He would never imagine that she remembered everything she saw.
Snowley whirled on Adrian. “You sent it to your sister’s house, didn’t you?”
“If I did, that’s where my father lives as well. You cannot breach the home of the Marquess of Meadowbrook. And if I sent the document to a solicitor, I’d especially recommend against going after it.”
Snowley ripped the letter into long, thin pieces, then turned the strips sideways to rip them asunder. When he finished, he carried the fistful of scraps over to the fire and hurled it into the flames. The seal stank as it burned.
