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“Do you mean the horribly rude man who insisted on seeing His Royal Highness and his grace?” the butler asked.

“Yes!” she nearly shouted. Oh, she could kiss the man. Andrew was here!

“I sent him away.”

“What?”

“He absurdly thought he could demand entry and see the prince,” said the butler with a sniff.

“Where did he go?” Gillie asked over her shoulder.

The butler looked from Gillie to her, no doubt trying to figure out whom he hated most. “I neither know nor care.”

She grasped the man’s arm. “Tell me. If there’s anything you know, anything at all, you must tell me.”

“Unhand me, madam.” The butler ripped his arm away even as she let go. “This is altogether untoward. Good night to you both.”

“Is the prince still here?” Gillie asked in a rush as the man began to shut the door.

The butler stopped and fixed her with a glare. “The prince and his grace left for the ball twenty minutes ago. If you are so concerned with seeing His Royal Highness, you can attend the ball.” He raked his gaze over them and scoffed. “If you have invitations, which I very much doubt.”

Then the man shut the door in their faces.

“Andre—”

“No,” Gillie cut her off sharply. “We will not entertain such thoughts until we know what’s happened.”

Lavinia nodded weakly, and Gillie gripped her by the shoulders.

“I need you right now, Lavinia. We wouldn’t have figured out Douglas and Mrs. Wark’s plan if it hadn’t been for you. Hell, we wouldn’t have anything if it wasn’t for you. I need you to stay sharp. For Andrew.”

For Andrew. Determination surged up in her, and she rolled her shoulders back like a gentleman pugilist entering the ring. She wasn’t giving up yet, because she and Andrew had unsettled business. She was going to rake him over the coals for being so foolish as to take her off this operation when it was clear that he needed her. She was going to eviscerate him for doubting her. And then she was going to cut him to shreds for being too frightened to be loved by her.

She needed him alive to do all of those things.

“Think,” Gillie was saying. “Where would they be taking the prince? It’ll likely be somewhere quiet.”

“The warehouse,” she said automatically. “Mrs. Wark is familiar with it, and it has access to the water so they’d have an alternative means of escape if anyone approached from the road.”

“The waterfront is all warehouses and will be quiet at night,” said Gillie. “It might make sense. You don’t think Mrs. Wark would take the prince to their house?”

“I’m certain of it. She’s far too canny to do something so risky. Not when a single shot might be heard by neighbors or servants. She’ll only have done this if she thinks she can maintain her social standing as well.”

“How can you be sure?” Gillie asked.

She laughed once. “Because when you’re a dressmaker, you learn how to read your clients. Their attitudes and behaviors become clues as to how to handle them. Mrs. Wark is as selfish and self-centered as her son. She might believe in her cause, but she’s not the type to die for it.”

“Then we’ll go to the warehouse,” said Gillie.

Gillie must’ve paid the driver to wait, because the cab was still there when Lavinia turned. They clambered back in, and the driver looked down through the trap at his feet.

“Where to, miss?”

“Elbe Street in Leith,” said Lavinia, fighting to keep her voice level.

“Right you are then,” the driver said. Then he paused. “Is the Prince of Wales in danger?”

“You could hear that from the street?” Lavinia asked.