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Thirty minutes earlier
So this was the man James was hunting.
This was Walker.
It was hard to look at the villainous figure swathed in a dress of soft blue, a matching bonnet on his head. It was even harder to keep a connection with his eyes. Her gaze dropped to his bosom. Poppy could not help it. The unnatural swell of those curves begged her attention. Had he padded them? They looked uncommonly real.
Even Poppy could not deny Walker possessed some rather delicate features. His long eyelashes for one. Not uncommon for men but rather desirable for women. His chin, too, appeared far less defined and more round, almost soft. He lacked any masculine definition in his jaw. Poppy could see why he got away with his disguise as a woman.
Jennings seemed to have lost all color at the sight of them.
“It is uncanny, right?” Walker said. “How a person can disguise themselves so easily into someone they are not. But I suspect you already know about that, madam.”
Poppy’s gaze shot up to Walker’s. “I have no clue what you may be referring to.”
His gaze traveled between her and Beatrix. His lips curled into a knowing smile. “Little escapes me.”
“On the contrary,” Beatrix said. “It seems a lot has escaped you, lately.”
A glint of fury flashed in his eyes. “It does seem that way, does it not? Yet here we are. Two little birds that have flown straight into a cage.”
“That is a matter of perspective, Mr. Walker,” Poppy said, deliberately using his last name. She knew only a momentary flash of fear before she lifted her chin in defiance, and offered him a small, forced smile. She had him, just as they had her. It was only a matter of the scales to tip in one party’s favor.
If Walker was rattled, he didn’t show it. His hand lifted to finger a purple gemstone that hung at his chest. Poppy’s brow dropped at the same time Beatrix stiffened.
The necklace.
She’d been so absorbed with his bust she hadn’t noticed the pendant dangling there.
“I see both of you recognize this splendid piece.”
Beatrix certainly did.
Poppy dragged in slow, careful breaths in an effort to calm her mind and quell the tension that gripped her belly.
Danger thickened the air.
Tension charged the space between them. These were still men, dangerous and unpredictable, who could easily overpower two women.
Walker seemed to follow her train of thought, for his smile was a flash of white. And for the first time, Poppy took note of the masculinity of the act. No woman would have such a wolfish tilt to her smile.
“Nothing to say?” Walker questioned. “You’ve been so brave up until now.” He motioned to Charlotte. “I thought whoever overheard Jennings and myself would keep their mouth shut. Not wise of you not to do so, Miss Rose.”
“She only told me,” Poppy told Walker.
“And yet, madam, shortly after our conversation was overheard a new patron arrives on the scene.”
“How is that suspicious,” Poppy demanded.
“I don’t believe in coincidences, so I looked into Mr. Greenwich and low and behold, I could find no record of such a man. Highly suspicious if you ask me.”
“Stranger things have happened, I am sure,” Poppy said.
“Not to me. I have not evaded authorities this long by leaving anything to chance. So forgive me, but I believe Miss Rose told more than just you.”
“I sent word to Bow Street,” Beatrix declared to Poppy’s surprise. “They have sent their best. Seeing what lies within these crates, I am glad I did.”
“Beatrix!” Poppy hissed beneath her breath.
“What?” Beatrix hissed back. “They should know they will not get away with whatever dastardly deeds they have planned.”
The less we reveal, the better, Poppy implored with A Look.
“And yet,” Mr. Walker drawled. “I do not see Mr. Greenwich here.”
Poppy snorted. “That is just because he is hunting on another trail, Terrance.”
Walker’s face flamed with outrage.
Really, Poppy, Beatrix’s lifted brow said.
Poppy shrugged. I am just giving your earlier declaration weight, her eyes shot back. In hindsight, taunting the devil was probably not the best of ideas.
“The two of you have been caught,” Beatrix added on agreement. “You will not get away with this.”
“I am not part of this,” Jennings said, having remained silent up until that moment. “Do not pen me in his corral.”
“Are you not an accomplice? You are here, are you not?” Beatrix snapped. “Eli, do you even know what is in these crates?”
Jennings’s face flushed. “I was encouraged not to know.”
“How convenient for you,” Poppy said. “You are aiding a dangerous criminal, Mr. Jennings. The law does not take kindly to that.”
“Dammit, Terrance, what are in those crates?”
“Pistols,” Poppy answered for Walker. “Double barrel flintlocks to be exact. What do you believe your friend intends to use them for? How many people do you suppose will die?”
Jennings’s face paled.
“What I am doing is much bigger than you or your runt from Bow Street,” Walker growled. “I won’t allow anyone to stand in my way.”
“Shaw is not a runt!” Poppy exploded, fury overtaking any reasonable sense. “You cannot hope to win against him.”
“Shaw? So that is Mr. Greenwich’s real name.”
Poppy clamped her mouth shut.
“You ought to really work on your name dropping, Poppy,” Beatrix muttered beside her.
Poppy whipped to her, brow raised.
Beatrix covered her mouth in a gasp.
They’d make terrible spies.
Walker laughed an evil, sardonic sound. “Poppy and Shaw. What a fountain of information you are. I’m sure I can connect those names together. After all, all I have to do is enquire after your identity. I’m acquainted with quite a few of the attendants last evening. My connections run deep.”
“So what if you know my name?” Poppy lifted her chin another notch and pretended that fact did not strike the fear of God in her. “We know who you are.”
“But not for long.”
“Walker?” Jennings questioned uncertainly.
“You know I cannot allow them to leave, Jennings. You must already have gathered that.”
“That is outrageous, Walker. You cannot harm these women. Especially not a woman of the gentry.”
“You believe she,” Walker nodded to Poppy, “is a lady of standing?”
“I believe her manner of bearing tells me all I need to know. Let them go.”
“I cannot do that.”
Poppy slowly inched backward. She looked over to Beatrix and nodded to the exit as her fingers closed over a pistol behind her back. They would not be loaded, but she needed evidence to present to James when they escaped.
And they would escape.
Lord, James was going to throttle her, Poppy was sure.
“Then it is settled,” Walker said, whipping Poppy’s focus back to him. “I will take care of this Shaw fellow while you watch over the women. We will deal with them after I return.”
Poppy’s heart sank as Jennings nodded.
“Eli, you are a better man than this,” Beatrix implored. “You can still come to the right side of it.”
“Do not listen to their tricks,” Walker countered. “And do not let them out of your sight.”
“I won’t,” Jennings growled. “I won’t let you hurt them either.”
“Wait,” Poppy called out when Walker gave them his back, skirts rustling. “What are you going to do to . . .” James, “him?”
He paused and glanced over his shoulder. “You know exactly what I’m going to do, madam.” He turned to her fully then. “What did you believe would happen? That I’d just let the matter go? You have no clue to the lengths I have gone and will go to make certain my revolution ignites. I will not lose.”
Poppy swallowed, a sinking feeling filling her. She had an awful suspicion she would regret it for the rest of her life if Walker strode out that door.
Walker turned to Jennings. “Tie them up.”
“Terrance . . .”
“Do as I say.”
Dread filled her. She willed it away with herculean effort. Yes, Walker might have the advantage. And yes, he seemed to have seen the broader picture. But he hadn’t known it all. He didn’t have James yet. He didn’t even fully have Beatrix. And Poppy wouldn’t let him. She would not let him win. He would never win.
She held onto that conviction with dear life.
Poppy looked to Beatrix and whispered, “On three, we run.”
Beatrix’s eyes widened, but she gave a determined nod.
Poppy inhaled deeply and counted beneath her breath. Walker and Jennings were still deliberating the matter of restraining them, the argument growing heated with every second.
“Dammit, Terrance!”
“One.”
“Do not forget who I am, boy.”
“Two.”
“I am not a bloody boy!”
“Then—”
“Three.”
Poppy and Beatrix shot forward in a mad dash. The men had barely time to register it before she crashed into Walker full force. He hadn’t expected the collision and fell backward, but not before Poppy snatched the necklace around his neck and yanked.
He cried out in rage.
“Get them!” he roared at Jennings.
Poppy didn’t dare look over her shoulder to see if Jennings followed his order. She and Beatrix sprinted straight for the door. They exploded up the short staircase and would have cleared it had Poppy’s foot not caught on the last step. She fell, crashing into the floor in a disgruntled heap.
“Poppy!” Beatrix rushed back to her.
“Go,” Poppy said with a grimace, stumbling to her feet.
“Not without you,” Beatrix said, linking her arm into Poppy’s as they pushed on.
Poppy reached for the door as they arrived at the exit. She rattled the handle.
No.
The door was locked.
Footsteps sounded behind them.
Poppy hastily patted her hair for a pin. Too late, they turned to see Jennings skidding the corner at a run. Poppy steeled herself for whatever was to follow.
Jennings, however, reached past them to insert a key in the lock.
Poppy blinked at him.
“Go,” he said. “Warn the officer. I will stall him.”
“Thank you, Eli,” Beatrix exclaimed. She paused. “Come with us. He will hurt you for letting us go.”
Jennings shook his head and slammed open the door. “Go. Now,” he commanded. “Before it’s too late.”
“Eli . . .” Beatrix breathed, catching him by the sleeve of his coat and pulling. He shrugged her off.
“Now!” he roared.
Poppy grabbed Beatrix by the arm and pulled her away from Eli. “Beatrix, we don’t have time!”
Reluctantly, her friend nodded, and they burst from the building, dashing down the alley. They had just rounded the corner when a shot rang out.
Beatrix cried out. “Eli!” She turned to Poppy. “We have to go back!”
“We can’t go back, Beatrix. Walker will end us. We can only pray Mr. Jennings is safe.”
“That is twice now he has saved my life,” Beatrix said on a sob.
“And I am eternally grateful to him. But for now, we must survive and pray he does the same. Come!”
Poppy spotted a carriage and ran straight for it. They jumped up next to the driver before he could protest. His mouth dropped open as he stared at her in shock.
“Whose carriage is this?” she asked the driver.
“The Earl of Crossley, madam.”
Damn. Crossley was an ass. But Poppy had no time for ton politics or their shocked servants.
“We are appropriating this carriage,” Poppy said, brandishing the flintlock at him. The man’s eyes widened to saucers, and he scrambled to leap from the carriage.
Beatrix reached for the reins.
Poppy saluted the man. “Tell the Earl of Crossley we will return the carriage after we are done.”
And with a single whip, they pulled away, racing to the residence of the man who was in danger because of her.
***
James brought his horses to a halt before the door covered with smears of blood, Derek not far on his heels.
Never had he known such terror as he did in that moment, his world shaken to the core. He had thought himself free from such crippling emotion. Never imagined he would ever feel such a sense of loss deepening in his chest again. His heart stuck in his throat as the blood left his face.
James dismounted.
Was Poppy hurt? Did Walker have her? How the hell had this happened?
Derek cursed. “Explain,” he snapped at Harrington.
“The women exited through this door. It appears that Walker caught them snooping around. I saw them run out of the building. Jennings was shot aiding them. I lost their trail after they commandeered a carriage.”
James almost exploded again. He wanted to gouge Geoffrey and Harrington’s eyes out for losing sight of Poppy.
“Jennings was shot? Where is he?” Derek asked.
“He took off.”
“Not mortal then?”
“I cannot say, sir.”
“What’s in the building?” Derek queried.
“You should see for yourself, sir.”
“James?” His brother placed a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m fine,” James growled and followed them into the building. The entire building had a chill to it, one that carved a deep hole in James. He swept the floor and crates for any sign of a struggle. Found none. Some of his tension eased. Some. He strode to the containers Harrington pointed at with a grim expression.
“Mother of Mary,” James hissed as his eyes fell on the contents.
Derek let out a foul curse. “The women found this?”
Harrington nodded. “It seems that way. I followed Miss Rose to Miss Middleton’s residence. She had just arrived. They were in the carriage for a few minutes before returning to the theatre.”
“Did they go anywhere in the theatre?” Derek asked.
Harrington shook his head. “No, sir, they came straight here.”
“Why the devil didn’t you send for me the moment you believed Walker entered the building after them?” James demanded.
“I didn’t know that he did, sir. I never saw anyone enter the building after the ladies, only that they came out running, and Mr. Jennings was shot. Walker must have come in another way or already been inside.”
Geoffrey had claimed the same.
“You didn’t see him?” Derek asked.
“I thought it best to follow the women, sir.”
“And you lost them anyway,” James growled.
“They got away, James. That is something,” Derek said.
“But still we don’t know what Walker looks like.”’
“We know his name. I have men combing every inch of the city for any lead that will direct us to Terrance Walker.”
“And who is searching for the women?” Except for bloody Geoffrey, who James now doubted couldn’t tell his head from his arse.
“I have my men on that, too.”
It’s not enough.
“I’m leaving to find Miss Middleton,” James declared. “You deal with this.” He motioned to the pistols.
“I suggest you go home, James.”
His incredulous gaze swung to his brother. “Miss Middleton and Miss Rose are missing, possibly hurt, and you want me to go home?”
“Have you met more resourceful women? Harrington said he saw them commandeer a carriage.”
“Walker would have followed them,” James growled. “You think he’d let them go? What if he didn’t lose them?”
“Miss Middleton might be seeking you out as we speak, James. She’d go to you, wouldn’t she? Go home. I’ll personally lead the search for them and Bow Street will handle the weapons. But you must be there if she comes to find you.”
“Dammit!” James dragged a hand through his hair. “I bloody can’t . . .” Words failed him.
“I know, James. We will find her. We will find Walker. This will be over soon.”
“We should have acted last night. Questioned Miss Rose then. Broken her door down if that was what it took to get answers. We should have anticipated this.”
“What’s done is done. All we can do now is find them and put an end to Walker.”
It went against everything James believed to abandon the search. He couldn’t. Not entirely.
He turned to Harrington. “Return to our residence and watch out for Miss Middleton and Miss Rose. I will try to pick up their trail.”
“James,” Derek said in a low voice.
James dragged both hands over his face. “I’m going to attempt to map out where they might have gone in the carriage. If that doesn’t unearth any leads, I’ll return home and wait.”
On his life, he would.
Derek gave a reluctant nod.
James turned on his heels and left.