bottle. “If he discovers I’ve been arrested, he’ll hurt my family. Let me return home—just until he contacts me. I’ll arrange to meet him with the ruby, and you can lay a trap for him.”
Her eyes met his, and Alex experienced that now-familiar jolt. He couldn’t help but admire the way she faced her problems head-on without flinching. She was like some poor, brave aristocrat proudly mounting the steps to the guillotine. Damned, but still defiant.
“I won’t try to escape,” she said, anticipating his next comment. “I’m quite prepared to be tried for the Nightjar’s thefts, but I refuse to be punished for a murder I’ve had no hand in. Danton must be stopped. Catch him, and you’ll have both your murderer and the jewels. You’ll be a hero.”
The curl of her lips made it clear he was anything but heroic if he returned the gems to the Prince Regent.
Alex was about to answer her when a commotion in the hall caught his attention. An agitated female voice merged with Mickey’s much deeper tones in animated altercation. He opened the door just in time to see a beautiful, buxom woman duck under Mickey’s restraining arm and sprint up the stairs toward him, advancing like an avenging fury.
“Alexander ’Arland?” she demanded, and just her way of shouting his name was enough to indicate she came from the East End. “What’ve you done wiv Emmy, you scoundrel? I know she’s ’ere!”
“Sally!”
Emmy flashed past him through the doorway. Alex made a grab for her collar, but she was too quick. She launched herself into the arms of the disheveled stranger with a strangled cry of delight. The two women hugged, then separated, both of them talking at once.
“Sally! What are you doing here?”
“Em! Thank God! I didn’t know what else to do.”
“What do you mean?” Emmy clearly noticed the other woman’s disarray; Sally’s hair was loose around her shoulders and she hadn’t bothered putting on either a bonnet or gloves. Alex noted, quite dispassionately, that she had a magnificent cleavage.
“What’s happened?” Emmy demanded.
“Another letter,” the woman said darkly. She shot a warning glance over Emmy’s shoulder at Alex, who sent her a sarcastic nod in return.
“No need for discretion, Miss Hawkins,” he said silkily, deciding this must be Emmy’s housekeeper and co-conspirator, Sally Hawkins. How the woman had managed to disguise those feminine curves under the guise of a window cleaner was a mystery. “Miss Danvers and I have no secrets between us.” He enjoyed the way Emmy’s ears turned pink at his unsubtle insinuation. “What does Monsieur Danton have to say?”
Sally shot Emmy an accusatory glance, as if disappointed that she’d caved in and told him, then reached inside her ample bosom and withdrew a folded note. Her chest swelled in misery, and her beautiful eyes filled with tears.
“He’s got Luc!”
Chapter 29.
Sally thrust the crumpled letter at Emmy, who scanned it as quickly as she could. Luc, it appeared, had been released from Bow Street and almost immediately apprehended by Danton.
“I asked one of the sweeper boys,” Sally said. “He saw Luc get into a carriage at the end of the street but didn’t think anything of it. There weren’t no markings or crests on it.”
Emmy closed her eyes as the threatening note swam before her. Luc was Danton’s hostage.
She let Harland take the paper from her nerveless fingers.
Oh, God. She hadn’t thought things could get worse than her own arrest. But now Danton was demanding all of the jewels her father had collected, within twenty-four hours, or Luc’s life would be forfeit.
If you doubt my claim, he’d written. Take note of the example set by Signore Andretti. Such is the fate of those who defy me.
Emmy shivered. Was that oblique reference enough to prove Danton had killed the Italian? Surely it was enough to convince Harland to help her?
“Does Camille know?” she asked.
Sally shook her head. “Not yet. She was still in her room. I came straight here. What should we do?” Her tears threatened to overflow, and she dashed them away with an impatient hand. “That bastard. If he hurts Luc, I’ll—”
She didn’t seem able to find a harsh enough expletive to finish that sentence. Emmy caught her elbow and tugged her into Harland’s rooms, and the two of them dropped into the wing chairs that flanked the fire.
Sally looked around her with wide eyes, doubtless noticing the telltale rumple of sheets through the open door to the bedchamber and drawing her own—entirely correct—conclusions as to why Emmy hadn’t returned