Page 55 of Rogue’s Holiday

“If you do that, should I go as the mad dwarf who stole the prince’s gold?”

With a smirk, Robbie said, “That would hardly win the heart of your lady, the fair Rose Red.”

“I’d rather go as a chevalier, now that I think on it. Ladies like knights and such a costume would provide an excuse to take my long knives.”

“On second thought,” said Robbie, shaking his head, “I’m afraid we cannot don either. With the chainmail and the helmet in the heat of the Pavilion, you’d roast. And I cannot go as a bear. There would be no good place to hide my pistols and ’twould be like wearing a rug. I would suffocate.”

Jack sighed. “You are right. I could never endure a knight’s armor as hot as the king keeps the Pavilion. However, it might do for me to go as the pirate my father once was, dressed all in black with a sword at my side, all my knives tucked inside my clothing and one of your pistols secured at my belt. What say you to that?”

Robbie smiled. “Splendid. As for me, I’ve another thought, too. The musketeers in France guarded the king. How fitting it would be for me to dress the part I have most recently played. I would wear the old uniform of the Ancien Régime with lace collar, a sword hanging from a belt across my chest, tall bucket boots and a cavalier’s plumed hat. It will require a wig of longer hair. Too, I must find a blue cloak.”

“Alors, where is all that to be obtained?”

Robbie shook his head at his uncle. “I can see you have yet to realize all of Tiller’s many talents. He is a magician who can conjure up most any disguise. He has done so for me many times. I’ll ask him to scour Brighton for us and, failing that, he can dig into my chests.”

Aaron Ings leaned back in his chair in the smoke-filled Albany Tavern on West Street, drinking ale with his men and listening to Augie’s report of the government spy and his lady friend.

His time in London had been well spent, his plans now set in motion. Soon, he would have his revenge for his brother’s lamentable death. He had secured a set of rooms in a shabby, not quite squalid, part of London where he could hold the woman before delivering her up to the brothel. He would need a few hours’ sleep before seeing to that errand. The rented quarters had been his headquarters while he was in London, allowing him time to identify the brothel his brother had frequented and to obtain access to a carriage that would attract no attention.

“You saw them together again?” he asked Augie who had risen to a place of leadership among the men in Aaron’s absence.

“Aye, I did. Cozy as two church mice sittin’ on a pew in the Chapel Royal.”

That such a man could sit in church and not feel regret at his actions that had led to good men’s deaths angered Aaron beyond all reason.

“We’ve been watchin’ for a chance to nab her,” said Duffy. “Looks like the king hisself has handed us what ye swells call ‘an opportunity’.”

Aaron fixed his eyes on Duffy, waiting to hear more. His brother had wanted the death of the king and his ministers. While Aaron had no such goal, he had no qualms about using the king to get to the man whose death he wanted. If the king provided an opportunity, he would take it.

Duffy smiled. “There’s to be a masked ball at the Pavilion.”

Aaron raised a brow. “A masked ball, you say? That can work to our advantage.” Aaron thought back to the times he had visited Brighton. “Whenever the prince gave a ball, the crowd that rushed forward included many who were not invited. Bounders, scoundrels and ladies of easy virtue always attend along with the costumed aristocrats.”

“By scoundrels, ye mean us, Guvnor?” asked Pete.

Aaron nodded. “If you prefer to think of yourself that way. As for me, I will attend in disguise, not a scoundrel but as a man of the earth, a poor man full of righteous indignation.”

Pete responded with a malicious grin. “This is soundin’ better all the time. I always yearned to go partyin’ with the swells.”