“Good afternoon to you as well.” Royston sipped his tea. “North shouldn’t have made that comment. Lots of things that shouldn’t happen actually happen.”
“You’re in a philosophical mood.” Havisham exhaled. “Allow me to tell you that after the disaster of the other night, your popularity has plummeted. What the hell happened with that maid? It looked like you pushed her out of your way.”
“An accident. I slipped.”
The earl didn’t look impressed. “The key to getting you a seat in Parliament, in the House of Lords, is all about how the other peers see you. If you want to be one of us, really one of us, you must earn respect and sympathy. Right now, North has more chances of getting a seat than you.”
“Thank you, Havisham. I feel much better now.”
Havisham chuckled. “I didn’t come here to discuss your behaviour although you need to think about it. I have some news that may or may not please you.”
“I doubt my mood could get worse.”
“Do you want to hear the good news or the bad news first?”
“Good news.”
The earl sat in an armchair. “I think I know where Mrs. Haywood keeps her other documents.”
“What’s the bad news?”
“They’re probably in a safe in her small parlour. I thought about where she could keep the documents, and I remembered having seen her storing her jewels in a safe behind a mirror. It’s worth a try.”
“Opening a safe is no small deed.”
“How much time would you need to open a safe?”
Royston pressed his fingers to his temples. “An hour, maybe two. It depends on the safe. But I can’t search Mrs. Haywood’s house again. I’m not welcome there.”
Havisham held up a hand. “I understand, and I’m here to help. I’ll ask one of my friends to organise a soirée this week, something small. I’ll make sure that both Mrs. and Miss Haywood are invited. Their house will be empty, and you’ll have the opportunity to search it and plenty of time. I’ll make sure they stay out for the whole evening.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think I can do it.”
Havisham inched closer. “I’m going to be honest. I have my documents. You did your part. Helping those girls is your choice. If you need help, I’m more than happy to keep the ladies busy for a few hours. If you don’t want to do it, I understand. But no one else is going to help those girls.”
That was true. Still, he didn’t want to break into Angeline’s house, even though his relationship with her was ruined anyway.
“Your choice, Wharton,” Havisham said. “Whatever you choose, I’ll help you.”
It wouldn’t be the first time Royston had done something against the law, but he held a title now and had responsibilities towards the people he employed. But the earl was right. No one was going to help those girls. He’d failed his mother. The leasthe could do was to help those girls, using his criminal skills to do something good.
He nodded. “I’ll accept your help.”
In a plain woollenjacket and brown trousers, Royston left his house from the rear door.
No coachman or footman to accompany him. With the flat hat pulled down over his face and the scarf up to cover his mouth, he doubted anyone would recognise him.
He hadn’t worn plain clothes in a long time. The collar of the shirt chafed his skin, and cold gusts of air somehow found their way through the fabric of the jacket, and through his thoughts. Sitting in front of a blazing log fire and enjoying a nightcap would be wonderful, but he had to finish the damn job and then move on.
When he arrived at Angeline’s house, he paused in a dark spot on the street.
Mr. Wright appeared from behind a corner, and since the lights in the house were still glowing, Royston followed his instinct and tailed him. Wright’s involvement in Mrs. Haywood’s affairs was still unclear. The pianist could be another victim or an accomplice. Or worse, Wright could be another North, annoying Angeline.
Wright walked with his shoulders hunched as if he were sitting at a piano.
“Mr. Wright.” Royston sped up.
Wright turned around and glanced at Royston before breaking into a run. What the hell?
