to a still-open coffee house in the Strand.
The place was empty. The shopkeeper had thrown the chairs up on the tables to sweep, but he was thrilled to stir up a cheery fire and arrange three of his best seats in front of it. He bustled off to fetch coffee and Eli groaned as he settled in and rubbed his leg. ‘Well, which is it, man?’ he asked Jack.
‘Which is what?’ Jack gazed, puzzled, from one of his rescuers to the other.
The groom exchanged a glance with the Egyptian. ‘We told ye we’d deal with this lot. And then we hear tell of a Mayfair toff askin’ questions all over the riverside.’ He shrugged. ‘A man don’t get hisself into a situation like that unless he’s got either a death wish or woman trouble. So which is it?’
Jack groaned and hung his head in his hands.
‘Woman trouble.’ Eli sighed.
Jack peered up at the pair of them. ‘Well, I suppose I should thank you, at any rate.’ He grimaced. ‘What do you hear from Devonshire?’
‘We heard from Trey today. He’s got everything well in hand.’
‘Well in hand?’ Jack scoffed. ‘Batiste’s got his fingers in every pie from here to there and Trey’s got it well in hand?’
‘What I want to know,’ Eli demanded, ‘is why you were at the Horse tonight.’
Jack explained, but Eli just shook his head. ‘It’s more likely that tapster’s in league with Batiste’s men. He probably lured you there and tipped them off.’
‘Well, I had to take the chance, didn’t I?’
The coffee came then, and Eli sighed as he wrapped his hands around his hot cup. Aswan glanced at his mug with distaste.
‘Effendi, why do you feel as if you must take this chance?’ the Egyptian asked.
Jack stared blankly. ‘You just said it, Aswan. Batiste is a dangerous man.’ He glanced around at the empty room, but still lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Chione is your family. Trey and the rest will be soon enough. Can you stomach the thought of him out there, hovering, just waiting for his chance to hurt them? They deserve to live their lives free, without fear and without a constant nagging threat in the background.’
‘Batiste’s more’n dangerous. He’s obsessed, I’d say,’ Eli replied. ‘Treyford wants him taken jest as bad as ye. He’s not above throwin’ his title around, neither. Aswan says as how they’ve had the Navy in Devonshire, and the Foreign Office, too. Even had a couple of Americans in.’ He took a long swallow and grinned in satisfaction. ‘Damned good coffee here.’
‘Treyford sends a message. He has a favour to ask of you,’ Aswan said abruptly. ‘He says you have done well with your cors—corres—?’ He looked to Eli for help.
‘Correspondence. Damned good idea, that. But he’s got someone he’d like you to talk to, as well.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Broken-down seaman, as used to sail with Batiste.’
‘Yes, I’ve heard that one before.’ Jack grinned.
‘No, this one should be no threat. Mervyn’s had word of him. Name o’ Crump. He’s poorly and been set up in the new Seamen’s Hospital. Mervyn says as it’s unlikely he’ll be coming out.’
‘Why me? Wouldn’t he be more likely to speak with you, someone who knows the life he’s led?’
‘No.’ Eli shook his head. ‘He’ll know of my relationship with Mervyn and there’s a risk he won’t want anything to do with me. Crump crewed with Batiste when the bastard still worked for Latimer Shipping. He went with Batiste when the pair o’ them fought and Batiste struck out on his own. He’ll know much about where Batiste hides his head when the chips start to stack against him.’
‘But why would he want to share any of it with me?’
Eli looked him over, considering. ‘Well, Trey says as how yer brother has a title, too—mayhap he wouldn’t mind using it in the name of a good cause?’
‘Oh, well, I’m sure he would not mind, if I asked him.’
‘That ain’t all, though. Trey says ye’ll have been mucking about a bit with some Evangelicals?’
Jack started. ‘Where the hell does Trey get his information? If I didn’t know him better, I’d suspect him to be near as bad as Batiste.’
Eli laughed. ‘Treyford does have his ways. And when ye pair him with Mervyn …’ he shuddered ‘… I don’t think there’s nothing the two o’ them couldn’t tackle.’
‘And just how do they think to use my Evangelical connections?’
‘Crump’s converted. Mervyn thinks he left Batiste when he saw how bad things get on a slave ship. If you could let on that you were of a like mind …’
‘I have friends among the Evangelicals. I’m not one myself,’ Jack said.
‘Crump don’t need to know that, do he?’
Jack sighed. He thought he’d rather take his chances back in the East End, rather than lie to a sickly old sailor. But he’d said he’d do anything that would lead to Batiste’s capture, hadn’t he? An image flashed in his head—Lily, her lips red and flushed full from his kiss, an unuttered plea in her eyes. Immediately, he pushed it away.
‘I suppose not,’ he said.
‘Would you be needin’ anything else, miss?’
Lady Dayle’s footman did not look at Lily as he spoke. His gaze was very firmly locked on the pump house at the centre of the garden in Berkeley Square, where several giggling maids had gathered.
‘No, thank you, Thomas, I am fine here,’ she said, settling on to a bench situated under a shady plane tree. She’d come seeking solitude, and would not have brought the footman at all, had Lady Dayle not insisted. ‘I shall call you when I am ready to return.’
‘Very good, miss.’ He turned away with an eager step, but then paused a moment, looking back. ‘You’re sure you’re all right, Miss Lily?’
She was touched by the concern in his tone. ‘I’m fine, Thomas.’ She smiled. ‘But thank you for asking.’
He pivoted back to face her again, but kept a respectful distance. ‘I don’t mean to overstep, miss, but I hope you don’t mind if I tell you: I think you’ve adjusted—to London and the fancy, I mean—right well.’
‘Thank you,’ she said again.
‘It’s just that I was new here, too,’ he said earnestly, ‘a few years back. I think your world, your old one, I mean, it was … different?’
‘Oh, yes, vastly different,’ she agreed with fervour.
‘Mine, too. I was green as grass—and I made mistakes, some real whoppers. But I got used to it, and you will, too, and,
