Page 92 of Temptress in Disguise
“Be careful,” Daventry cautioned them both. “Adams may have friends inside. Call if you need help.”
Keen to locate Adams and ensure his only destination was Newgate, Aramis was first to the tavern door.
Aaron joined him. “Daventry should attend the fights in our basement. Then he’d know why we find his last comment ludicrous.”
If they were dealing with anyone other than Jacob Adams, Aramis might agree. “It’s not Adams’ strength we must be wary of; it’s his ability to hurt those we love.” He gripped Aaron’s arm. “We won’t kill him unless we have no option. We need the law on our side.”
Aaron nodded. “I intend to be in the front row when he hangs.”
The Black Flagon was like any other wharf-side tavern. The stubby candles on the worn wooden tables were barely spluttering. The place carried the pungent scent of the river and the stench of men used to hard work. Those huddled together in the gloom disliked anyone not deemed sea-faring folk.
All conversation died when Aramis strode to the bar. He met the gaze of the haggard man filling tankards from a wooden cask and gestured to his brother. “We’ll have brandy. The best you have.”
The fellow considered the quality of their clothes. “Happen you’ve taken a wrong turn, gov’nor. Those who drink here don’t take kindly to strangers.”
Aramis firmed his jaw. “Pour the drinks and there’ll be no trouble. You don’t want to spend tomorrow sourcing new premises.” He slammed a sovereign on the counter. “You clearly have no idea who we are. Help us achieve our goal, and we will leave you in peace.”
The man looked at the coin. He pulled a dusty bottle of cognac from under the counter and poured two drinks. “That’s all we have. Get to your business and be on your way.”
Aaron grabbed the man’s hand as he moved to take the sovereign. “We’ve come for the woman staying in the room upstairs. We can deal with the matter quickly, or we can start a brawl that will leave you with a bucketful of teeth in the morning.”
“There ain’t no one upstairs,” he said, tugging his hand free.
A punter appeared at the bar, his weathered face at odds with his sprightly demeanour. He eyed Aramis as he spoke to the landlord, then returned to his seat once his tankard had been refilled.
Aaron drew a weighty coin pouch from his coat pocket and dumped it on the counter. “You’re harbouring fugitives. The lady’s husband is wanted in connection with four murders, kidnapping and fraud.”
Aramis tossed back his drink, wincing at the bitter aftertaste. “We’ve men waiting outside. Decide which side of the law you’re on.”
The landlord took seconds to come to his senses. He leaned closer. “You’ll find the woman tucked away in the corner. I’m to keep an eye on her until he returns. If you ask me, she’s tuppence short of a shilling.”
Aramis scanned the taproom, but couldn’t see Lydia.
“She’s sitting behind the pillar and hasn’t moved a muscle since he left. She keeps mumbling gibberish and weeping.”
“Do you know where we can find her husband?” If Jacob Adams disappeared, Aramis would be forever looking over his shoulder.
Aaron pushed the pouch across the bar, tempting the landlord to examine the bounty. “He means to leave England. We need to know where and when he plans to make his escape.”
The landlord took the bribe, unable to hide a satisfied grin as he weighed the pouch in his palm. “I can’t be sure, but I heard he’s paid for passage on Boyers’ boat when he ships his dyed silk to Grimsby. They’re leaving tomorrow at noon.”
“Grimsby?”
The landlord shrugged. “That’s all I know.”
Aramis thanked the man and went in search of Lydia. He found her sitting at a small table in a hidden corner of the taproom. Her golden hair hung in a tangle of knots about her face. Her lips were sore and cracked where she’d nibbled them until they’d bled. When she met his gaze, her blue eyes looked vacant.
Aaron approached. He watched Lydia rock back and forth in the seat, frowning at her incoherent mumbles. “What the devil’s wrong with her? Is she drunk?”
Perhaps Adams had fed her laudanum to keep her subdued.
“Lydia?” Aramis pulled out a stool and sat down. Thank heavens Naomi hadn’t seen her in this state. He reached for her hand, and she didn’t pull away. She was dirty and cold. “Miss Fontaine?”
She blinked rapidly as if familiar with the moniker. “She’s such a silly girl, sir. Do this. Do that. Do the other. Watch me weave my web. No one even knows his name.” Three times, she blew at the unlit candlewick. “You can’t start a fire without a flame.”
They watched her, trying to decipher her ramblings.
“She’s not in her right mind,” Aaron whispered.
