Page 145 of The Language of Love

By the time they had delivered the last basket, Annis was as taut as a bowstring.

She had hoped to drop off the pair at the Crown and leave immediately, but she should have known better.

“Oh drat,” Miss Gates said as her brother helped her down. “I must have left my reticule at the millinery shop earlier and it is about to close.”

“What a goose you are, my dear,” Richard chided, his gaze sliding to Gordon. “I don’t suppose you’d fetch my sister’s reticule while I help her up to her room, kind sir?”

Gordon gave Annis an inquiring look. Annis could see the poor young man worried that—in keeping with her rude behavior—she would deny this simple request for help.

What was the point of dragging this out? She might as well hear what Leech wanted. Not that she couldn’t guess.

“Please fetch the lady’s bag, Gordon.”

The second Gordon was out of earshot, Leech grinned, his eyes glinting maliciously. “Why, dear Annis! What a chore it has been to get a moment with you. Such a grand lady you are.”

“Whatever you want, you won’t get it,” Annis hissed.

Leech gave a mocking chuckle. “Oh, my dear, deluded Annis. Of course, you will give me what I want. Unless you’d like to drag your new husband’s name and reputation through the mud.”

“Lord Rotherhithe doesn’t give a fig what other people think.”

“He will when his wife is facing accusations of theft.”

“Telling my husband about mewould mean confessing your own crimes, Mr. Leech—or whatever your name is, although Leech certainly suits you—so your threats are hollow.”

He shrugged. “If you don’t care for your or your husband’s reputation, perhaps you might care about your poor grandmother’s? I daresay her life would become intolerable if it became known in the intimate village of Cocklesham that she harbored a thief in her bosom. Some people might claim Lady Cecily even knew what you were doing and encouraged it. After all, she had so little to live on.”

Fear and fury warred inside her. “Thanks to you, she had even less to live on, you—you vile, disgusting snake. If you think—”

“Here comes your servant,” Richard said quietly, no longer smiling. “Meet me at the Dower House at midnight. If you don’t, you won’t like the consequences.”

“I’m afraid your reticule wasn’t at Mrs. Morgan’s,” Gordon said.

Miss Gates, who’d merely watched Leech and Annis argue with a smile of dark amusement on her face, said, “Oh dear, what a ninny I am! I recall now that it is up in my room. I’m terribly sorry.”

Annis barely made it through the protracted goodbyes without screaming.

She kept her jaws clamped tightly shut all the way home, rudely grunting or nodding at anything poor Gordon said.

What in the name of God was she going to do?

***

Henry watched Annis talking to Mr. and Miss Gates—who were really a married couple named Richard and Martha Loring—from Jonathan Green’s room at the Crown and Antler Inn.

His wife was glaring at the Lorings with utter loathing.

His footman, Gordon, had run off somewhere, no doubt on a trumped-up errand, leaving Annis and the two thieves alone together.

“Loring has been lurking around your house for the last five days,” Green said from beside him. “He and his wife met up with the dowager again last night.”

“What about Edmund?” Henry asked. “Has he met with them?”

“The only things Viscount Singleton has met up with are several dozen pints of homebrew down in the taproom.”

Henry snorted at the dry assessment. He liked Jonathan Green a great deal and was planning to offer the man permanent employment once this assignment was over. With his wire-rimmed spectacles and slender build, Green looked nothing like the popular perception of a Bow Street Runner. His nondescript appearance was especially useful for investigations like this one, where he was impersonating Ned Bowen, Henry’s solicitor from London.

Henry’s frequent meetings with Green were causing a great deal of curiosity among the citizens of Stoker.