“My throat is just fine,” Rose said. “I don’t know why the two of you stayed up so late if you’re coming down sick.”
Celia wanted to laugh, and she wanted to throw her arms around Rose and cling to her forever, so loyal and so literal.
Henrietta coughed even more delicately.
“Oh,” said Rose. “Oh, I see. Oh, I can be sick too.”
They finished tidying up the office, locking the door behind them, then hurrying through the frigid hallways. Celia’s steps tapped, Rose’s shushed, and Henrietta’s were silent.
“Good night,” said Rose, turning into the bedroom she shared with Henrietta.
“Good night,” Celia answered. She had to sleep by herself, because her status was higher, unless Marianne snuck in for the night.
Henrietta said nothing, but she hugged Celia, quick and tight.
Alone in her room, Celia let her robe drop to the floor and slipped into her chilly, lonely bed. If their calculations and her uncle’s loans were correct, she had ten weeks to save her cousins.
Rose might hear from Owen Featherstone, Henrietta might fall in love, but there was nothing for Marianne. Except to tag along with Celia, like she always did, but where could they go? Celia needed to win over her brother or find a husband.
Chapter Five
Be Fire With Fire
Henry Pipperly waseven more of an idiot than Peter had imagined. The psychedelic Indian powders—expected. The possibly illegal French liquor—plenty of wealthy men drank it. But when Peter found himself in a group at the Docklands in the wee hours of the morning, assigned to the be north-side look-out, and watching Pipperly very carefully oversee a shipment of very small packages—that was when he knew that Pipperly was in up to his neck.
It was not only that smuggling is a hanging crime. It was not even that a very small shipment might be dealing in information, which might mean treason, which was Peter’s actual assignment. What really impressed Peter was that Pipperly assigned a good-time boy he’d barely met to be the look-out for his operation.
“What level of idiocy does it take to ask an actual agent for the Crown to assist your smuggling ring?” Peter was in Leavenworth’s parlor, in shirtsleeves, bare feet propped up on the hearth. His pants were muddied to the thighs after kneeling on the docks all night.
Leavenworth snorted. “Pity. They should have assigned you something that was right challenging.”
“Working on Elinor is my challenge now.” Peter shivered, rubbing his elbows.
“Drink.” Leavenworth was implementing his Rules for Corporeal Care Following Exhaustion, and Step Four was a mug of something hot. Since the war was over, they had switched to hot chocolate rather than third-rate over-brewed tea. Since this was Peter, Leavenworth didn’t add a splash of brandy.
“Yes, sir.” Peter barely noticed accepting the cup until his fingers flinched from the heat, so barely missed pouring it in his lap. That wouldn’t do; he liked chocolate. “I was thinking—”
“Always.”
“—it’s going to be a trick to come up with the blunt for a house. One good enough for a sister, that is.”
“You could take some money out of the Exchange.”
“No.”
“Alcott, I know you don’t like to touch the capital, but our investments have done well the last couple years. You could—”
“No!”
“Right then.” Leavenworth headed back to the kitchen, probably to arrange Step Five of Peter’s treatment.
Peter picked at a spot of mud on his trousers, trying not to remember the sheer panic of arriving in London at two-and-twenty and learning that his father had not only cut off his allowance, but pulled every pence of savings from Peter’s accounts. Ever since, he was careful about money.
Better to think about the plan for Elinor now. Ready cash was tight, but Leavenworth was right, he had plenty on the Exchange, and Avonleagh was producing well. Peter’s rule was to rely on his salary, but maybe he could make an exception for a house. First, he’d better figure out the other holes in his plan, like juggling which alias did what, and what young ladies were supposed to do all day. Probably the answer would strike when Peter was half-asleep or in the middle of a conversation about something else.
“About Elinor.” Leavenworth dropped a hot water bottle on Peter’s lap. “Leastwise, your friend who is writing notes with such elegant penmanship.”
“Did you find some information?”
