The woman lifted her head, her whole body jerking with great gasps from her place on the floor, but her eyes riveted on Paulette, like twin bolts under a smith’s hammer.

The fear flooding Paulette’s veins all but paralyzed her. There were no allies here, only predators.

Bink, where are you? Why did you let them take me?

In the stories Jock told her, her mother always escaped. She was always strong and convincing and unafraid.

But the stories had been false. Her gentle mother could never have lived through this.

Yet she must live. She must survive until Bink came for her. He would come, she had no doubt. He would find her. She must find a way to help him find her.

The letter must serve as her lifeline. “There is a letter. The solicitor wasn’t holding it. My mother had it hidden away.”

She eased in another breath. Like Paulette with Bink, her mother had not shared all with her lover, Tellingford.

“I discovered the letter after her death. It was just meaningless news, a husband’s prettied up report of his business, not even true, I’d imagine. I was glad she’d kept it.” She let her real tears brim. “Because it was all I had of him. And then, I was angry. There must have been more, letters she’d destroyed. I had nothing. Nothing of him.”

She squeezed her eyes tight and shook her head. She must play this right. She took a deep breath. “I think, well, if it is the letter you’re searching for, it must be in a code. I can’t imagine how or what.”

“Where is the letter now?” Agruen brushed a spot of blood on his sleeve. He sounded almost bored. “We know it wasn’t among the things Cummings took from you. Did you stash it back at Hackwell’s country estate, hmm? Or did you have it in your reticule?”

“N-no.” She shivered, hoping it would be helpful.

Another chill went through her, a real one. He knew about Cummings, which meant the vile worm was in league with the serpent. And so he’d found his way to Greencastle because she was with Bink, and that’s where Bink was likely to be. And so he’d searched her room at Greencastle, or planned to. Or perhaps his valet had been planning to search there after he’d ravished Jenny.

Agruen drew closer. She lifted her chin. “My husband has it.”

He touched a finger to her cheek. “How sweet. Your husband. Shall we believe her, Fil?” His attention went back to the woman on the floor, and Paulette’s breath caught, dreading the next blow.

But he was done kicking for now. He snapped his fingers, and his weaseley assistant came from somewhere behind Paulette and righted her cousin’s chair with her in it, gasping.

More blood trickled from a cut on Filomena’s head, and she wheezed with a grimace that meant something inside her was broken. “Have Paulette write out a note to that great bull who beat Paul to death,” she said.

Paulette winced and caught the baiting glint in the other woman’s eye, and her blood rose.

That Bink had beat her father almost to death—if he hadn’t admitted it, she wouldn’t have believed it. Never would he have put a hand on an innocent man. She’d seen the misery in his eyes when he’d learned the truth of the man’s identity, and even then denied killing him.

She wouldn’t die without telling him it didn’t matter. It truly was Agruen who had killed her father.

She bit back the accusation.

“So Fil,” Agruen said, “we’ll have her write a note asking for the letter and he’ll just hand it over.”

“If you release me, yes,” Paulette said. “The letter…” What had she said? It was all she had of her father? She mustered some tears. “You may have it. I do not care. The man who wrote it abandoned my mother and me.”

Filomena’s eyes narrowed and she pressed her lips together, but she didn’t speak.

Perhaps she still had a tendre for Papa.

Agruen’s beady eyes took it all in, and he smiled like a Rom reading minds. Or he was enjoying the bloody display of his handiwork.

Heat rose in her. If she could but break these bonds, she would kill him.

“Oh but, Paulette, I don’t want to release you. Such a tender young thing you were in the garden at Cransdall.”

His leer enflamed her more. “After you stole my mother’s ring.”

That news sparked a flash in Filomena’s eyes.

Paulette’s blood raced. I got my part of this puzzle from another whore. Filomena De Silva was the other so-called whore.

“Let us start with the letter and we will puzzle this out. You.” He snapped his fingers again at his assistant. “Bring paper and ink, and then untie her. And dear Paulette, if you try anything, your cousin here will suffer.”

He knew Filomena was her cousin?

They were all spies together, hunting, beating, or blackmailing each other. But he was English, so if he was being blackmailed, that meant he must have betrayed his country, and perhaps her father had evidence of it. Perhaps there was no treasure after all, but only a blackmailer’s tool. She would gladly exchange it for her life. England had done nothing for her, after all, except to steal her father’s life and leave her husband with a legacy of guilt.

She looked briefly at the sharpened point of the quill. Agruen saw and smiled evilly. She shrugged and paused over the inkpot.

My love, I am safe for now, being held in a foul garret I’m guessing to be in the East End since I saw more sailors on the streets and I did not pass that way in the morning. Fil has been beaten savagely but still smirks and snarls. You must bring the letter and then you must kill him because he threatens to rape and kill me anyway.

“Get on with it,” Agruen growled.

She could not write that of course. “I am framing my words.”

Dear Mr. Gibson

No. She set her pen to the paper.

Dear Mr Gibson Husband,

I live. Agruen wants my father’s letter to my mother.

“What instructions do you wish me to add?”

“Write ‘The person delivering this missive will provide instructions.’”

The pen scratched as she wrote.

Agruen went on, “‘If he does not return within one hour alone with the letter…’” her hand trembled during the pause. The script would be hard to read. “‘Lord Agruen will personally deliver one of the fingers I used to hold the quill for this letter.’”

She swallowed hard and the tip of the pen broke on the evil man’s name.

“Drat.” She dipped the spoiled tip and scrawled

threatens more evil.

love, P

Agruen took the paper. “You do not follow orders well.”

She gripped the pen tightly, her rage building within her and warring with her fear. Take her finger would he? “It will suffice.” When she spoke, her voice grated like she’d swallowed sharp stones. “I should like my mother’s ring back. It is of no use to you.”

He smiled. Laughed. “She makes demands, Fil. She is so like you.” He gripped Paulette’s chin. “Do not think to use that flimsy quill. My knife will be quicker, and then I’ll send Shaldon’s by-blow a hand instead of merely a finger.” He slammed her ear to the table, and the shock clattered through her. “Bind her again, and then come with me.”

Bink gripped the edge of the table he sat upon, taking each sharp stab of the surgeon’s needle without whimper. If his pain could spare hers, please God let it be done.

“Hurry up, man,” he said through clenched teeth. She’d been gone for more than an hour. It had taken mere minutes for the surgeon to arrive at this so called solicitor’s office, another few minutes to strip him and probe, and another hour to pull all the pieces of linen and wool from what was merely a long, wicked flesh wound.

Bakeley sat in a chair watching the surgeon’s work. His guard, he was, but as soon as the leech was done Bink would be out the door. His brother was welcome to come. He did, after all, have their brother Charley to play the next Lord Shaldon.

“Sit still, brother. That wound is deep.”

“I’ve had worse from French sabres.”

His Lordship stood and started pacing.

The surgeon knotted his thread and reached for the bandage. “I suppose I could not ask you to rest for a few days until I can take these stitches out.”

He was a lanky fellow of indeterminate age and matter-of-fact manner.

“No,” Bink said.

The surgeon grunted. “That’s how it is with your kind.”

“My kind?”

“You’ve fallen in with Shaldon, Kincaid and Tellingford. There now.” He tied off the bandage. “Where is that fresh shirt?” he shouted.

The same clerk who’d greeted them at the door that morning entered. His eyes took in the bloody pile of cloth with interest, and he handed Bink a shirt and a neck cloth.

When Bink held it up, his skin pained him sharply where the surgeon had sewn the raw pieces of flesh together.

“Biggest one I could find. It should fit,” the clerk said.

He tried to poke an arm into the sleeve and winced.

“Here.” Bakeley grabbed the shirt. “Let me valet you before you pass out.”

“Has anyone reported in,” Bink asked the clerk who stood about watching the show, an earl dressing his bastard brother. Bakeley helped him into his torn, bloody coats.

Voices sounded in the corridor. “I’ll go and check,” the clerk said.

The door flew open as soon as he reached it. Kincaid’s eyes swept the room and landed on the surgeon who was slipping his coat on, preparing to leave. “Well?”

“A deep flesh wound. He’s survived worse.”

Bink jumped up from the table. “Where is she?”

Kincaid looked at the clerk. “Get out.”

When the door closed, Kincaid surveyed Bink. “You’ll do.”

“Bloody hell, Kincaid, where is Paulette?”

“We haven’t found her yet.”

He gripped the older man’s shoulders.

“Stop,” Kincaid said. “We’ve traced her to Spitalfields. We’re working our sources now.”

“Let’s go then.”

“There’s been a ransom demand.”

His empty stomach flipped. “How much?” Bakeley would damn well front him the money. This bloody mess was all Shaldon’s doing.

“Not money. A letter. You were holding it for Paulette.”

He reached into his pocket.

Blood had soaked the paper in places. Kincaid eyed the letter, his eyes gleaming.

“Good. You’ll leave this. I have a man penning a decoy right now.”

“No. You’ll not risk Paulette’s life for more of your games.”

Kincaid swiped a hand across his cheek in a gesture that told more about the depth of his worry than Bink could ever imagine.

“Fair enough. Conceal that somewhere. We must hurry. The scurvy boy says there’s a deadline.” He handed Bink a pistol. It was Bink’s own, loaded and primed. “You still have a blade?”

Bink stowed the letter and the pistol. “Yes.”

“Good.” They started down the corridor. “The boy will take you to Agruen’s man. He will demand to return alone with the letter. Tell him you must see her. He will protest. He’ll want to carry the letter. If he will not give way, kill him. We’ll have the boy, and we’ll get the location out of him, or be damn close.” He stopped at the outer door. “Agruen will try to kill you. We would like him alive.”

“If he hurts Paulette in any way, he’s a dead man.”

“She’s a brave girl. And Filomena, when it comes to the point, will fight for her.”

He doubted that. The bitch had pointed a gun at Paulette.

* * *

Paulette struggled to work the bonds at her back. From the movements of the other woman’s shoulders, she was doing the same.

“Can we untie each other?” Paulette whispered.

“You do not need to whisper. We are quite alone, and that door is locked.” Her voice was strong. The beating had not affected her as badly as Agruen must have hoped.

Paulette eyed the door. “We can pick that. We just need to get loose.”

Her cousin laughed. “Just like that? Sela taught you something more useful than how to darn stockings. Perhaps you are right.” She scanned the room. “Perhaps there is something here we can use to pick locks.”

Perhaps I have a set of lockpicks in my boot along with a sgian dubh.

She kept her mouth firmly closed and stood. Fil was only a few feet away. A few hops, given the way her feet were bound. “Can you stand?”

“Yes.” Her cousin got awkwardly to her feet and leaned her waist on the table.

She looked small, frail.

It was an illusion. She also probably had a weapon hidden somewhere, in spite of the search by Agruen’s man.

Paulette must be the first one untied.

She backed up to the woman and felt for her hands. “When we are untied, will you kill me, Filomena?”

After a moment of silence, the woman chuckled. “You are giving Agruen the letter and he already has the ring. I think it is him I must kill.”

She hadn’t answered the question. “Was it your ring he took also?” Paulette had worked her way to the end of the rope.

“Why would you ask that?”

“He told me he took a ring just like my mother’s from another woman.” The other woman’s knots were loosening. “I cannot feel your hands working. I shall go and sit down directly if you do not help out.”

“You do not trust me.”

“Why should I? You were going to shoot me.”

“Ah that, corazón. I ran out of powder days ago.”

The tension on her wrists loosened. She wrestled free, and turned, untying the other woman’s bonds.

Filomena plopped down on her chair and started working the bonds on her legs. “Keep the rope handy at your wrist.”

Paulette hurried to sit. She pulled the knife from her boot and sawed at the knot.

Her cousin’s eyes lit. “Excelente. But do you know how to use it?”

“I will use it on you if you try to hurt me.”

The woman stepped one foot out of her bonds. “I shall sit right here while you search for a piece of wire—”

A door below crashed open and men’s voices echoed.

“Shhh.” Filomena slipped the bonds around her feet and her hands. Paulette did the same, concealing her gripped knife behind her back under a rucked up fold of her skirts. When she looked up, her cousin’s head had fallen in a fake swoon.

She swallowed. She must look weak. She would draw him closer. She closed her eyes and tried to conjure Jock’s lessons. Stab up with the knife, watch for the ribs. Or go in the back, for the kidneys. Or, dear God, the eye.

The door opened and her heart stopped. Agruen’s knife pressed into Bink’s neck.

Bink quirked a lip and gave a shake of his head, sending her his strength. His strength—would she ever feel the power of those strong arms again? Real tears pricked her eyes.

She nodded and bit her lip. “What are you doing, Gibson?” she asked. “You were supposed to turn over the letter, not bring it.”

Her cousin’s head did not move. A sterling performance, that.

“Did you not want him to come, Paulette?”

“I don’t wish you to take my finger. But now that he’s here, and you have that useless letter, let us all go. I’ll even let you keep my mother’s useless ring.”

“Ah, but it’s not useless.” He jerked his head and his minion came and took over guarding Bink.

His hands were pulled tight behind him as if he were already bound.

Agruen yanked a blood-stained letter out of his pocket and two rings. “If this is even the letter. So much fresh blood, by-blow. I hope it is yours.”

Her pulse quickened. Bink’s coat showed a rip and dark splotches. He had been wounded.

Bink laughed. “Else you wouldn’t have taken my wife, Dickson.”

The sharp crack of the minion’s fist on his jaw made Paulette jump. Her skirt slipped just as Agruen came up behind her.

Her pulse pounded in her ears like a troop of men climbing a flight of wooden stairs. The narrow slats of the chair wouldn’t hide the knife. She must strike now. Stab up…the kidneys—

“You are a traitor, Agruen.” Filomena had lifted her head a fraction, and her words came out dark, echoing with pain, and drawing the villain’s full attention. He moved closer, his back to Paulette.

“Perhaps we’re done with you now, Fil.”

Paulette eased in a breath, and tried to measure a target under his layers of coats.

“No. If you want to decipher that code, you need me. Paul would have put it in Spanish or Portuguese, and, as I remind myself, you do not speak either language so well. Or at all.”

He looked at the letter. “As long as you don’t mind dying thereafter.”

His gaze swept the room and he laughed. “All of you.”

His helper cleared his throat.

“Not you, you fool.” Agruen pulled out a chair near Fil and perused the letter. “Ah, the blood hasn’t touched the writing. How poignant.” He took the rings, matched them together and studied the markings formed on the inner band. “Paper,” he shouted.

His assistant shoved Bink into one of the dirty brown armchairs and went into the adjoining room. It truly was just the two men against their three. Bink’s feet were not yet bound. They could overcome them. They must.

“What’s it say?” Bink asked.

Agruen frowned. “Shut up.”

Bink got up from his seat. The minion, drawn to the drama at the table, didn’t notice. “It says nothing, I’ll warrant. Nothing more than ‘Dear wife, how fares you, and how is my Paulette’. No secret location of Fouché’s letter to you that Filomena here lifted. Nor the name on the bank account where your French gold is hidden.”

A bloody corner of Filomena’s mouth quirked. Was Bink bluffing, and did Fil know it? Or did she really have a letter from a Frenchman?

Paulette’s grip tightened around the knife. “It’s true then. You worked for the French. It’s why you tried to kill my cousin. It’s why you had my father killed. He found out the truth.”

His pencil moved busily, but she could see the white of his knuckles. He paused to frown over the inner markings of the rings.

He looked puzzled and displeased.

But of course. There would be another ring. Bink had said there sometimes was a heart. The heart was missing, and so the code would not work.

Bink sent her another tiny shake of the head and took up her thread. “But your blood money went missing.”

Paulette nodded to him and Fil. “And you inherited an estate that was broke or… You killed your uncle and your cousin. And that wasn’t enough, so you married that pitiful rich widow, and that wasn’t enough, either. Did you kill her also?”

The blackguard smiled. “What if I did?”

Monster. Taking this man’s life would serve mankind.

“How? How did you do it?” Bink asked.

“It’s easily done,” Fil said. “A cut in the team’s rigging, a poor load on the hunting gun. A bit each day of poison in her ladyship’s tea.”

Agruen laughed.

“Did you?” Bink asked. “If we are all to die anyway, there’s no harm in telling us. And your boy here is a criminal just like you.” The look he sent the man said he was expendable also, but Agruen was too focused on the cipher to notice.

“A criminal?” Agruen laughed. “I’m a peer of the realm.”

“Traitor, rapist, murderer.” Bink spit the words out, and this time Agruen looked. “Soldiers died because of you. Farm men, flash house boys, East Enders like him.” He nodded toward the minion. “Wellington’s valiant scum. Men who for once in their lives had a right to a fair fight.”

“What if they did? What if I am? What did King George do for any of you, you fool. When I find that blackmailer, and that money, I’ll go on about my business, sitting in Parliament with the rest of my brethren. And pah, I intend to enjoy a dalliance with the fair Paulette. Though I would have preferred her unspoiled by a rutting beast like you.”

“You pig,” Paulette said. “You vile, greedy, bottom-sucking arse of a pig. You will never touch me. You will never lay a hand on me.”

Filomena smiled. “That’s my girl,” she said softly.

Agruen’s mouth contorted. He dropped the pencil. “This is a pretty letter, but it’s not the right one. You’ve not brought me the right one.” He jerked his head at his man. “Kill him.”

“Wait,” Paulette shouted, even as she saw Bink whisper to the man, who scratched at his jaw and stared at his master.

“Kill him,” Agruen growled.

“M’brother died in that war. In Spain it was.”

“That’s where he cheated men like us,” Bink said. “Bastards and lords alike. Moore and his men, driven into the sea.”

“You fool.” Agruen pushed from the table and flew at Bink.

Bink’s foot swung out, kicking the big chair at Agruen, catching the villain’s blade.

Paulette threw off her bonds and Agruen’s man looked at her, startled.

“Get out,” Fil shouted.

The man backed toward the door.

“Get him,” Agruen yelled at his man.

Bink’s foot swung again and Agruen’s knife clattered to the floor. He lunged for Bink, his coat flapping up.

Stab quick. Stab up.

Paulette swung and missed.

Agruen turned a shocked look on her and bellowed, charging. She swung again, even as her feet carried her back, and Agruen hit the floor, face-down, with Bink’s bulk landing atop him.

The man twisted and pounded, and Filomena was there, her boot jabbing again and again at Agruen’s face.

“Enough,” a voice boomed.

Paulette’s hands froze around the knife and hope rose in her.

Men swarmed the room, men who were on their side.