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His smile was confident. “Her fat is well and truly in the fire, and none of the other places are as secure. She’ll be there, lying low until she’s certain the danger is past and she’s no longer threatened. Gonson will have the area surrounded with men awaiting the signal to close in. That signal is my arrival.”
Doubt gnawed at her. “Don’t underestimate her ability to deceive even her own people. She trusts no one but herself. Even if that man told you all he knew of this place, his information may be incomplete. Every time the Archangel thought he had her cornered, she managed to escape.”
“I can vouchsafe that this place has only one point of egress. It was used by unsavory people long before Boucher took it over. It will be heavily guarded, but what matters is that she’ll be trapped inside.”
“With us.”
“Yes. With us. And there is the fatal flaw in her plan. She has survived by keeping danger at a safe distance. Now she’s bringing it right into her nest.”
“If we make it that far,” she argued. “What guarantee have we that the men she sends for us won’t have orders to kill us the moment we cross the threshold?”
“Time has run out, and she can afford no more mistakes. After last night’s failure, she’ll want to see it done properly to ensure none are made.”
“I will not go unarmed,” she vowed, hitching up one side of her skirt to show him the bottom of a special holster she’d had made years ago. “It holds two pistols, good for close range only, but better than nothing. I can also conceal a blade in my sleeve.” The look of surprise he gave her was gratifying.
But his startled expression quickly gave way to one of doubt. “What, exactly, is your intention?”
Though her heart quailed, she forced herself to meet his eyes. “Boucher cannot be allowed to escape,” she said flatly. “The moment we are out of sight her men will attack. I can force her to make them stop. If she won’t…” She swallowed past the knot in her throat. “If she won’t give the order, then I’ll bring her lifeless body back here and lay it on the front steps. She will not have paid them yet, you see. She never pays out until a job is done, and hungry men don’t work for nothing. They will see the one who promised to pay them dead, and without the incentive of gold driving them to finish their work, they will leave.”
“Anyone who attacks this school will most certainly regret it,” he said, his face hardening. “Sir Gonson is after Boucher, but Loxdon’s people are watching over this place. As for Boucher, I have no intention of letting her get away.”
She lifted her chin. “I’m not afraid to—”
“You should be,” he rasped harshly. “This is not like the last time, Jacqueline. It’s true she committed terrible crimes against you and many others, but this has become a matter for Westminster—not personal vengeance.”
Fury burned in her gut at the suggestion. “This is not about revenge. She threatens the lives of everyone I love!” Including you.
“If you kill her in anything other than self-defense, it will be considered murder.” His blue eyes pierced her. “I don’t want you to have to face a judge—or a noose, should it go badly—for ending her worthless life, nor would I wish you to bear the weight of that sin on your immortal soul. It’s my job to see her brought to justice. If the only way to ensure that is through her death, it should be by my hand, not yours.”
There was no winning this argument, so she let her gaze drop. “Very well. But I still won’t go unarmed.”
“I don’t expect you to.” He softened. “In fact, I’ll take great comfort in knowing you possess some means of defense. Just don’t do anything rash. Let me handle Boucher.” He hesitated, his eyes clouding.
“What is it?”
“There is something else you ought to know,” he said with visible reluctance. “Last night Loxdon said the real Archangel is still in London. He met with him yesterday.”
“What?” She stifled a curse. “He was supposed to have left London—if he gets involved and Boucher escapes, she will know who he is!”
“We cannot help that. Loxdon knows he’s here. If possible, he’ll fill him in on our plan, and they can coordinate efforts. As for us, we must proceed as though he’s not involved.”
“Agreed.” Hopefully, Tavistoke would have the good sense to keep hidden.
“I’ll go a
rmed, as well,” continued Will. “I cannot conceal a pistol as easily as you, but a blade should be possible. I’ll speak to Richards. He has several.”
“And what of Fanny and Abigail?” she asked. “I cannot bring myself to let them come.”
“Say they’re dead.”
“She will never believe it.”
“She will if you convince her—did you not tell Mr. Farnsworth one of the girls was deathly ill? Did you give him her name?”
“Yes, and no.”
“Good. Then tell Boucher Abigail was killed by the poison. If Farnsworth has been questioned concerning your conversation yesterday, his answers will support the story. As for Fanny, tell her—”
