An Unexpected Earl (Lords of the Armory #2) - Anna Harrington Page 0,107

I’m going to kill the bastard.”

Twenty-five

As he waited in the dark street, Pearce hunched his shoulders against the cold drizzle that fell over London. Around him, the City slept, the ward unusually dark and quiet beneath a layer of fog that had crept up from the Thames only a few streets to the south. So dark and quiet that he could hear the steady drip of rainwater falling every few seconds off the building behind him.

A figure dressed all in black emerged from the shadows and moved silently toward him, reminding Pearce of a panther on the prowl… Merritt.

“All set then?” Pearce tugged at his white gloves.

Merritt gave a curt nod, but his attention lay on the dark City, listening intently to the night around them. “Everyone’s in place.”

“Are you certain this will work?”

“Let’s find out.” Merritt pulled a pistol from beneath his greatcoat, pointed it into the air, and fired.

The shot split the silence of the night like cannon fire and echoed off the old brick buildings and walls lining the narrow street. A stunned silence followed. And then the streets around them came alive.

Out of the shadows of the narrow streets and back alleys emerged two dozen men and women carrying sticks, clubs, pikes, and torches. As they moved in the direction of Clerkenwell, only a mile or so away, they shouted into the night and swung their clubs at doors, at barrels and crates left in the streets—at anything that would make noise and rouse the city around them. More men came out of the buildings and joined in.

“Well, would you look at that?” Merritt grinned and tossed Pearce the spent pistol, not wanting it on him if the authorities caught him. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a riot.”

He slapped Pearce on the back. Then he jogged off in pursuit of the mob.

Pearce headed in the opposite direction. His boots scuffed over the uneven pavement as he headed northeast toward the edge of the City. The noise of the riot grew dimmer the further he moved away, until he was once more wrapped in the eerie quiet of the midnight fog.

The derelict church of All Souls-on-the-Wall emerged like a ghost from the drizzle and darkness. A blanket of fog lay over its medieval churchyard, cocooning the graves and giving no sense of life anywhere nearby.

“The entrance to hell, all right,” he muttered to himself as he started across the forgotten graveyard toward the door.

He paused outside the front portal to make certain no one had followed him. Then he rapped his knuckles on the wooden panel.

The door swung open slowly to reveal the waiting monk in his brown robe.

“Let me in,” Pearce said quietly, not certain that true demons weren’t lurking among the graves and might overhear.

The man stepped back without a word and let him pass. The door closed after him, shutting out the night.

Pearce made his way through the dusty church. Everything was in place just as before, right down to the same handful of lit candles flickering from the altar.

He descended the stone steps into the crypt where a handful of white robes had been tossed over a nearby tomb. He snatched one up and approached the second monk who guarded the door to the chambers below.

The monk made the sign of the cross.

“Wrong way,” Pearce muttered.

“Apologies.” Alexander Sinclair, Earl of St James, made the sign again, this time with the correct inversion.

“As long as no one else notices.” Pearce slipped on the robe. “How many so far?”

“Three dozen or so.”

“Has the abbot arrived yet?”

“Everyone’s arrived.” He added happily, “Including the nuns.”

Pearce tied the robe and eyed him askance. “Monks are celibate, don’t forget.”

“I thought I was supposed to do everything inverted.” He grinned, adding lasciviously, “Everything.”

“Just wait until you see what’s for dinner. It’s a religious experience, all right.” Pearce pulled the hood down low over his face, until only his chin and jaw were visible. All teasing humor vanished. “Give me ten minutes, then blow the horn.”

“Best be ready when it comes.” He opened the door to the chambers and stepped back to let Pearce pass. “All hell’s going to break loose.”

“Then we’re in a good place for it.” He hurried down into the lower chambers.

When he reached the bottom, Pearce slowed his pace and moved casually through the series of rooms, not wanting to draw any attention to himself. Not that anyone would have noticed, given that the men who filled the rooms were distractedly engaged tonight in the same debauchery