Page 91 of Too Scot to Handle
“So the trick is to commit my crimes without witnesses. Do you suppose Montague had accomplices when he took that money?”
Anwen left off tidying a shelf of books behind the desk. “What?”
“You heard the same evidence I did. Montague had more opportunity than anybody save Hitchings, who has never taken a penny or misstated an expense. Hitchings also has no motive, because if this place closes its doors, he has no job. That leaves Montague, who had motive in the form of designs on Mrs. Bellingham, as well as debts, and endless opportunity.”
Win’s guilt had been clear to Colin from the moment Win had accused him. Anwen had apparently not reached the same conclusion.
“Your theory makes sense,” she said slowly. “In his every pontification and threat, Montague’s demeanor supports your version of the events. He’d steal from children, blame others, and think he could get away with it. He’s set it up so he’ll be the victim of unfortunate associations, while he marries me to save me from scandal. I really do hate him.”
And yet, Anwen hadn’t wanted to accuse even Winthrop Montague of stealing from the children.
“He hasn’t got away with it,” Colin said, “not yet. His worse offense is upsetting my lady, and for that, he must be held responsible.”
This time when Colin held Anwen, she was with him, she was present, accounted for, and holding him in return.
“You cannot call him out, Colin. He’ll cheat, he’ll say his gun misfired, he’ll find a way to take you from me, and see your reputation the worse for it.”
How fierce she was, how protective.
“I won’t let it come to that. What was stolen can be retrieved. The banks won’t open until Monday, and Win wouldn’t trust that much money to any of his dear friends. He’ll keep it under his control, and that means I can find it.”
“You’ll steal from the thief?”
“I’ll restore the money to those who are entitled to it.”
Anwen sank her fingers into the hair at his nape. “He’s having you arrested on Monday at the latest unless I agree to marry him, and he’ll make that agreement public on the instant. I can’t marry him, but I can’t ask you to risk hanging.”
“You don’t have to ask me. Honor demands that I put the situation to rights. Fortunately, I’ve been in Win’s rooms many times, and know the entire house well. Then too, I’ll have the benefit of expert advice before I attempt this adventure. Your job is to make Montague think you’re considering his proposition.”
She held Colin desperately tight. “I can do that. You’ll consult with the boys?”
“Who better? They know housebreaking, thievery, all manner of useful skills that a gentleman could never claim but I desperately need.”
“Be careful,” Anwen said, going up on her toes and kissing him at length. “Be quick, and be very, very careful.”
* * *
The door to the conference room was unlocked.
In the past three weeks, Anwen had become very aware of when a door was locked or unlocked, when a sister was napping one floor above, and when the footmen came around to trim wicks or clean the ashes from the various hearths. Here at the orphanage, with children underfoot, she was usually even more careful.
Caution was beyond her when Colin planned to embark on nothing less than a hanging offense against the Earl of Monthaven’s household.
“I can’t stand the thought of you taking such a risk,” she murmured. “If you’re caught, you could well die. A man who steals from his friends and from orphans, who bullies a woman to the altar, will think nothing of perjuring himself to see you hanged.”
The words were the stuff of nightmares, and yet, all of polite society would name pickpockets as a worse threat to the king’s peace than Winthrop Montague.
All of polite society would be unforgivably stupid.
“I won’t be caught,” Colin said. “By Monday morning, the money will be back where it should be, and Montague will look like a fool for going to the magistrate.”
How confident Colin sounded, and how solid he felt in her arms. Anwen stroked her hands down his back.
“You don’t have that much money in London, do you?”
“Nobody with any sense keeps such a sum in private hands.” Colin spoke with his lips against Anwen’s temple. “I could likely raise the cash within a week, but I just strained my immediate resources to accommodate Montague’s last escapade.”
Of course he had. “I’m too muddled to think. Too angry, too frightened, too—”
