The Custom House Murders (Captain Lacey Mysteries #15) - Ashley Gardner Page 0,87
at the end of the hall, just out of my hearing, and now joined me to leave the house.
Even now, Denis exercised all caution moving from door to carriage. His men surrounded him, and me. He climbed into the carriage first, then Brewster shoved me inside behind him, and hauled himself in to land beside me.
None of the other men followed. They dispersed, flowing to do whatever Denis had instructed them.
“When we reach the wharves,” Denis said as the carriage jerked forward, “we will descend there, and you and Mr. Brewster will walk me the rest of the way. Creasey might simply hand over his lordship, or he might try to hold on to him longer. Regardless, you take him and go, with Mr. Brewster to guard the pair of you. No argument.”
“Agreed.” I folded my arms, the one word sufficient.
“His mum is coming,” Brewster said to Denis. “She wouldn’t stay behind.”
Denis acknowledged this with a nod. “By the time she arrives, she should be reunited with her son.”
I said nothing. Donata might take Peter from my arms and shut the door in my face. I would not blame her. I knew that if I’d extricated myself from Denis years ago, his enemies would not have used my family to snare him. Likewise, if Denis had not required me to deliver the white queen, Creasey might never have paid attention to me.
If Donata turned me out, I’d retreat to Grimpen Lane. I would not disgrace her with a divorce if she did not want that, but she’d never have to see me again.
My heart burned somewhere beneath my fury and fear, but I would have to face one emotion at a time.
Because the streets were deserted, the morning deliverymen just beginning their rounds, we reached Lower Thames Street fairly quickly. The closer to our destination we came, the more I wanted to fling open the door and drag Denis out, hurrying the rest of the way on foot. Only Brewster’s bulk next to me, solid and calm, his shoulder against mine, kept me in place.
At last the carriage halted before the Custom House. Brewster was the first out, reaching back to help me down. He handed me a walking stick I did not recognize, but which made Denis’s eyes flicker. Filched from Denis’s house while we waited, I presumed.
As my stick was in Gloucestershire, I accepted the purloined one without question. Though it had no sword inside it, it was solid oak with a heavy gold head and would make a good weapon. I hefted it as the carriage moved off to await my return with Peter.
Denis would walk between Brewster and me into the lane. We’d guard Denis from anyone shooting at him from the windows—I did not want Creasey to kill him and then decide he had no more need for his hostage.
“Lacey?” A voice rang behind me before we’d reached the mouth of the lane. “What the devil?”
Eden rushed to us from the direction of the Custom House. The question of why he’d been there or in this area at all so early in the morning tickled the back of my mind, but at the moment, it was not important.
“Creasey has my son,” I said as Eden reached us. “This is James Denis. I’m exchanging him for Peter.”
Eden looked Denis up and down in amazement while Denis stood tolerantly still. Then Eden’s mouth flattened.
“Right then. Let us get on with it.”
Brewster cleared his throat. “Might not be the place for you, guv.”
“Rot that,” Eden snapped. “Creasey has seen me—he knows I’ll champion Lacey. Another pair of fists, not to mention the knife in my boot will help things along and keep this one from running.” He jerked a thumb at Denis.
Denis did not bother explaining that he had no intention of giving himself up to Creasey. “He is right,” Denis said. “Follow behind us.”
Eden nodded and took his position as rearguard. “Should we bind his hands?”
“Best not,” Brewster answered. “When we have the lad, you make sure the captain runs with him, eh? Don’t try to stay and fight.”
“Understood,” Eden said.
Eden would not have to bother. I would take Peter and go, and to hell with the rest of them.
We marched in close formation around Denis along Hill Lane, Denis’s greatcoat swirling. His tailored ensemble with hat and gloves was incongruous with my travel-stained clothing, Brewster’s working man’s attire not in much better shape, and Eden’s sensible suit, worse for the wear of a night in it.