“H-he was in a fair temper yestereve, but tonight, tonight he was downright odd, been at the laudanum again, I think. Gets a gleam in his eyes and loses his mind, mutters and throws things about. Mumbles about you too. Hates you.”
“Why?”
“’Cos you ended his little racket.”
“Where is he now?”
“How would I know?” Webb’s brow creased. “Muttered stuff that he’d had enough, was going toThe Angelor someplace. Wherever that is.”
“Coaching inn on the North Road,” said Lynch. “He’s leaving Town.”
Webb shrugged but a cold dread filled Miles and his fists clenched tight as he slowly turned to his groom. “But that’s not the only Angel in London, is it?”
Dempster’s eyes widened.
“And would you say,” Miles rasped, “that Chambers himself could be violent?”
“Oh, aye,” his groom said low. “Saw him backhand a laundrymaid once. Broke her nose.”
Miles’ boots were already at the door. “Lynch, fetch Dair. We’re to St James’s.”
“Evenin’,Angel.”
With a deep breath, Verity willed her limbs to cease their tremble. Could smell starch and sweat over her shoulder as the forearm tightened around her neck. “W-who are you? Is it Mr Webb?”
Breath was hot in her ear with the sickly stench of laudanum. “That pathetic fop couldn’t piss on a fire.”
“Then who–”
He jerked the arm tight to her throat, something sharp against the bodice of her smock yet she could not lower her head to look.
“Answered yer questions in the hospital once, Angel. All about bloody Firth, weren’t it? But I’ve been watching him, saw the two of yer at the fair.”
Verity closed her eyes. “W-who are you then? What do you wan–”
“Name’s Chambers. Or Cluny, on occasion,” he rasped. “And I’m ever so pleased to make your acquaintance once more, Miss Seymour.” His accent had changed from St Giles Rookery to Mayfair and back again. “And wot do I want? Well, I want ter hurt yer.”
“Why?” She was desperate to try and keep him talking. “I’ve done naught to you.”
The sharpness pressed against her breast, not enough to pierce the material but she knew it was a blade.
“Yer lover has. And though it’s been entertaining watching him chase his own tail around London, now yer’ll all pay. You, with yer life. Pathetic Webb, when this knife is found in his rooms and he dances in the noose. The captain… Maybe he’ll blow his own brains out at losing such a prime piece as you. Maybe I’ll do it fer him. Revenge is best taken in me own time, I’ve learned.”
“R-revenge for what?” She inched her hand to the open pot of marble dust.
“No time, Angel. Now shush. I’ll be quick with yer.”
Verity closed her eyes. “They’ll find you,” she whispered, fingers clenching on the pot. “You’ll hang. Put the knife down and I’ll forget this ever happened.”
“They ain’t gonna find me, Angel.” He cut a bib string to her smock.
With the laudanum, Verity knew there’d be no reasoning with him, gritted her teeth as he slid the knife beneath her second bib string and–
“Don’t you dare!” The fearsome demand caused Verity’s breath to hitch and the madman to flinch.
But he swung them both to face Miles. “Well, well, the captain has come ter play. Worked it out ’ave yer?”
“Drop the knife or you’re dead.”
