Page 102 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
Chapter Twenty-One
It wasn’t until she was standing next to him that she knew the old man was familiar. At first, she had been drawn in, thinking he might be an unassuming resident of the square. It was the dog that had put her mind at ease.
And he’d kept up the facade well. Even feigned being hard of hearing to draw her closer.
Close enough that Ben and the others surrounding the square wouldn’t hear their exchange.
He was the man who’d come into her shop—the talkative, amiable version of Holcroft.
“There are sharpshooters on high, positioned on four houses in the square,” he’d whispered. “All pointed at your detective inspector.”
Her body had threatened to betray her then. She’d frozen when she should have run. Lost her voice the one time she should have blurted something useful.
Now she was glad she hadn’t.
However the elusive M had led Ben to believe this was where M could be found, the criminal mastermind had done it well. She and Ben were creatures in a fishbowl, and she believed the claimof sharpshooters was more than a boast. High ground was the best position from which to strike.
“Go and knock at number two and go inside.” The man—actor, criminal, conspirator, whatever he was—smiled. “Go now, little bird. A cage has been prepared for you.”
Allie did as she was bid because she could not bear to be the cause of harm to Ben.
They may be dreadful thieves, but she’d felt menace from the man who’d given her instructions. For one who feigned amiability well, he wore chilling coldness better.
The man inside the door was brawny and had gripped her arm so hard, her fingers began to go numb.
He’d led her through an elegantly appointed townhouse. Then he’d suddenly clapped his beefy hand over her eyes and shoved her into another room, then another, and finally released her.
Her prison was blue. A cool, muted blue box of a room with no wainscoting or friezes or gilding—none of the touches that one would usually find in a fine London townhouse.
She’d paced at first, searching the blank, unadorned walls for any kind of opening. The door she’d been pushed through had no inner handle and blended with the wall almost seamlessly.
A bit later, she shed her coat and gloves and hat and considered removing her boots, since the heel of her boot was probably the closest thing to a hammer on her person. She could strike someonehard if necessary. Or chip away at these bloody walls if it came to that.
After a while, she slumped onto the polished wood floor. But she couldn’t stay still for long and began pacing again.
“I picked this room for you because it matches your eyes. Don’t you think?”
Allie spun toward the voice, but there was no else in the room.
Then she saw it. A grate painted over in the far wall. He was using some mechanism to transfer his voice through it.
“Why are you doing this?”
Laughter filled the room, high-pitched and without a hint of true mirth. “It amuses me. Is that not enough?”
“But you’re not very good at any of it.” Allie wondered if she’d regret her boldness, but for a man who didn’t have the courage to show himself, she felt it was warranted. “You failed to steal the regalia and only stole back a diamond that is apparently your own.”
“You forgot the blackmail, or didn’t your lover tell you about that? I suppose the prince’s sins are too much for your delicate ears.”
“He didn’t tell me. Did you fail at that too?”
“Failure matters not. I didn’t need Bertie’s blackmail payment or to place the stolen Imperial Crown on my head to succeed. I struck fear into his heart. Caused the old dragon on the throne a bit of embarrassment. That is success, MissPrince.” The man’s shout echoed in the room. “Chaos is its own reward, Miss Prince.”
“Is it?” Perhaps if she could keep him talking, she could give Ben and the constables in the square time to unfold their own plan. And she was certain Ben had one.
“To those who feel safe, pompous, and untouchable in their wealth and power, nothing is as dangerous as chaos. My family was disgraced and stripped of its power. Should the queen and her offspring not at least feel a bit of fear?”
“You hate them.”
