When I returned to the Manor, I asked Pearson, "Is Mr. Spadros home?"
"Yes, mum, he's in his study. He asked to take tea there."
I went past Pearson to Tony's study and knocked.
"Come in." Tony sat behind his desk, surprise on his face. I must have looked peculiar, still dressed for the street as I was. "I hope your appointment went well?"
I sat across from him. "Madame Biltcliffe's dress shop office window was broken a few days before New Year's Eve, and —"
Tony sat forward. "What?"
"Yes. The room was ransacked. I believe they were after my files. Invoices bearing your signature."
Tony stared at me for a full twenty seconds, the little color he normally possessed draining from his face. "This explains something. I went to my father's home, asking what he thought I could have done differently."
I felt impressed. "It must have been difficult to do."
Tony shrugged. "I'm glad I did. He said something which made no sense, so I asked what he meant. He showed me a letter, in my hand, with my signature, yet I didn't write it. In it were wild tales of torturing my men to death. Unspeakable acts — even my father was shocked." He shuddered. "I wish I hadn't read it."
Good grief. Roy only found real enjoyment from the pain of others, and was known for torturing his enemies to death. For something to shock him ... it would have to be truly terrible. No wonder Tony was having nightmares.
I recalled the article in the Golden Bridges about problems between the Harts and Clubbs. Had any other shops been broken into? "Tony, if they have your signature and your hand, we must contact the other Families, tell them to beware of any notes from us." The last thing we needed was for a war to begin because of a forged note.
Tony nodded. "I received word from Alexander Clubb, asking if a letter from me was legitimate. It was not." He paused. "I'll send word with Ten. They know he is to be trusted."
Ten Hogan was Tony's first cousin, six years his elder, who the men called Sawbuck.
I leaned forward. "I believe the attack on you, the shipment theft, and the kidnapping of your men was to distract us from this break-in so we wouldn't investigate it." Who would have expected a paper to cause so much trouble? "Madame said her shop was unusually busy after the break-in. More accomplices?"
Tony put his hand to his forehead. "This is incredible. Why are we being targeted so?"
The Clubbs had probably been saying the same thing for weeks now.
Tony rested his hand on his desk. "Thank you for telling me this. I'm not sure what I would do without you."
We sat gazing at each other across his desk. I wondered what it might have been like if we had been given a chance to meet, and court, and perhaps even fall in love, instead of it all being forced upon us. I didn't know what I felt for Tony: friendship, companionship, at times, deep pride in him. He had grown a great deal during the past six weeks.
I remembered Joe's question: do you love him?
I didn't know.
I remembered Gardena. If Roy hadn't taken me from my home, would Tony have married her instead? Perhaps that might have been the better choice. "What will you do?"
He glanced aside. "Other than send word to the other Families, I'm not sure what we can do."
This I could help with. And it was a good distraction from things I could do little about. "All messages to another Family should come from a trusted hand. No more messenger boys. Also, the contents should have a specific word signifying it's from us, that few know."
Tony nodded. "Good."
"And no message should be acted upon without confirmation of who sent it."
Tony hesitated. "Sending notes isn't all they might do." He retrieved a ledger from his desk. "I haven't done the accounts —"
I stared at him, shocked. The Golden Bridges article about the Harts refusing to pay what they said were false bills now made sense. "Tony ... could they be using our own money against us?"
His face turned red. "I don't know."
I reached across the desk and he put his hand in mine. "Tony ... I don't know what's happening. But you can't keep on like this. I worry for you. You're working long hours. You're not sleeping well —"
He flinched.
"— and you can't keep doing everything yourself. Hire someone you trust to go over all the accounts, even before the break-in at Madame's shop. We must know what they're doing, and what they've done. And we must know it soon, if we're to stop whatever it is they plan."
He didn't meet my eye, but took a deep breath and let it out, then rose, moving to the door. "I must gather my men."
"Tony —"
He stopped, still facing away. "Yes?"
"Would you teach me to shoot?"
He let out a breath and faced me. "Why?"
It seemed obvious to me. "What do you mean, why?"
"Why would you possibly want to learn to shoot people?"
Why would I want to learn to shoot? How did he not know his father had been teaching me to shoot since I was twelve? But his eyes held only confusion. "Well —" Obviously his parents hid my lessons from him somehow. And his men did too, which meant Roy told them not to tell him. I couldn't think of a reason for Tony not to know I could shoot. But until I knew why Roy didn't want Tony to know, I felt afraid to say anything. I didn't want to make the same sort of mistake I had at the dinner. Nor did I want to upset Tony even more than he was already. "You're always so worried about me. I thought —"
He let out a short amused laugh. "No, no, no ... you don't need to worry about such things."
Tony wasn't a good shot. Maybe he felt embarrassed? "If you don't have time, maybe one of your men could —"
"No." He shook his head. "Under no circumstances ask them."
"But why?"
"It's not proper. Besides, I don't want you involved in such things." He smiled at me the way one might smile at a small child. "Just stay near your men, and all will be well."
"But —"
"No. That's final. Don't ask me again."
He left, closing the door behind him. I went to change out of my street clothes and tell Pearson that tea should be delayed.