from Hattie. The woman shook her finger. ‘You know I don’t hold with blackmail. I’ve never liked the idea of you taking those documents out of Witherspoon’s safe.’
‘It’s not blackmail. It’s insurance,’ Nora protested. ‘Those documents prove the mill is unsafe and the contractors are deliberately cutting costs by using substandard products.’ Nora smiled, remembering the thrill of the night she’d broken into Witherspoon’s study and cracked his safe.
A reliable source from town had sent word he’d overheard a rumour about something murky on the mill’s contract. He’d been right. From there, it wasn’t a large leap of logic to see that Witherspoon had an insurance scam on his mind. He’d build the mill with substandard materials and after a year or two have the building succumb to an ‘accidental’ fire. He and the other investors would be waiting to claim the insurance money. The scheme would never come to pass if Nora could prevent it.
‘I wish I could have seen his face the next morning, don’t you, Hattie?’
‘No, I don’t,’ Hattie said briskly, gathering up the tea things. ‘He was furious then and he’s still furious. You’ve made an enemy of a very dangerous man. The Cat might be succeeding, but the risk is going up. It’s not just the investors who are angry now. Some of our own wealthier residents are disappointed too, like the Squire. The news is that they mean to redouble their efforts to catch The Cat. They’re convinced as soon as The Cat is caught, the additional investors will come.
‘It might be for the best that no one knows you raided Stockport’s. It would put them over the edge. I fear we’re out of our depth here. We’ve never gone up against a man like Stockport before. He’s not one to be trifled with,’ Hattie fretted.
Nora covered Hattie’s hand with her own, hearing the unspoken plea in the woman’s scolding. ‘I won’t get caught. You and Alfred taught me to be a good thief. Eleanor Habersham has to go into Manchester tomorrow to conduct business. I’ll take a look at the situation first hand, if it will make you feel better. Alice Bradley and her daughters are going into the city tomorrow too for shopping and they’ve offered Eleanor a ride. Alfred can take a note up to Wildflowers in the morning to say I’ll join them.’
Hattie looked at her with concerned eyes and Nora braced herself. ‘These days I wonder if I should have taught you to be something else. Maybe then you’d be settled with a home, children and a husband. You’re only six and twenty. It’s not too late for you to have a real life, Nora.’
‘It is too late. This is my real life. I made that choice a long time ago, Hattie. Besides, if you recall, I tried marriage once and found it sorely lacking. I discovered men are highly exaggerated commodities, both in and out of bed.’ Even as she said it, her thoughts wondered back to Stockport, his ardent kiss, his firm body and the stack of papers on his desk. Perhaps there was an exception to be had. She had to be careful not to overrate him. One good act and a handsome face did not dismiss the reason he was here. She had made that mistake with her brief marriage to the handsome but incurably lazy Reggie Portman when she was seventeen. Well, she wasn’t that impressionable any more thanks to the two years of disappointments that had followed.
Nora said goodnight to her long-time comrade and made her way to bed, her mind plagued with the new information she’d discovered that evening. She wished she knew more about Stockport’s motivations for siding with the Reform Act.
It seemed an odd position for a man of his rank to take. If successful, the Reform Act would redistribute the seats in the House of Commons and lower electoral qualifications, making it possible for much of the middle class to vote. The House of Lords would be weakened considerably. She had yet to meet a peer who would willingly give away legal power. Yet tonight, it seemed she had.
She couldn’t help concluding The Cat wasn’t the only one who wore a mask. Stockport was becoming a conundrum and riddles intrigued her. The reputed Cock of the North was more than a well-dressed womaniser. This evening, he’d shown himself to be a politician, who had unusual convictions for a man of his rank and experience.
The Cat had pierced his outer shield with her kiss. Stripping away the rest of his urbane façade and revealing the man beneath was a scintillating concept to fall asleep on, leaving Nora with jumbled dreams of a hard-chested man rousing to her touch wearing little else but tight-fitted trousers and a mask that kept eluding her when she reached to untie it.
Chapter Four
Eleanor Habersham stepped down from Squire Bradley’s covered carriage in front of the Blue Boar Inn and thanked Alice Bradley and her daughters for the ride, waving aside Alice’s suggestion that she conduct her business in their company.
Several times during the short trip into Manchester, Alice had invited her to join them for the day. Her daughters had echoed their mother’s sentiment. Nora had refused all requests politely on the grounds that she didn’t wish to hamper their fun and that there was nothing unacceptable about a respectable, middle-class spinster conducting errands on her own.
She did, however, promise to meet them at the inn for tea later that afternoon and to join them on the return to Stockport-on-the-Medlock. Nora had no intention of looking a gift horse in the mouth. In the cold winter weather, it would be the height of foolishness to make the five-mile trip home on foot and carrying her purchases to boot.
Nora pulled her winter cloak close about her. It was a solid, although inexpensive, affair, made of wool and lined with rabbit instead of the other more luxurious furs worn by the Squire’s wife and his daughters. But it was what she could afford without taking funds away from the truly poor who couldn’t lay claim to even the middling garments she wore.
She pulled her hood over Eleanor’s dun-coloured wig and clutched her reticule and shopping basket close, glad to be off on her rounds. The winter had been especially cruel so far and many people would be happy to receive the relief The Cat offered through the conduit of Eleanor Habersham.
The Cat could not afford the risk of making deliveries in person often for fear of increasing her chance of exposure. If she was too liberal in flaunting her identity, it wouldn’t be long before someone turned her over to authorities.
Early on, she had taken great pains to set up her network by identifying reliable and trustworthy merchants who would convey The Cat’s offerings to those in need. They’d learned to recognise Eleanor Habersham as The Cat’s messenger.
Nora hadn’t gone far when the strange sensation of being watched caused her to pause and reassess her surroundings, which until that point had been filled only with other people going about their daily business at the shops. Someone was not what they seemed.
Cautiously, so as not to give away her awareness of being followed, Nora glanced around, quartering the area with her gaze. A woman with her young children entered the greengrocer’s. A street-sweep cried out his business on the corner. A hackney waited for his next fare. Then she saw him. It was no more than a glimpse before he fell back into the crowd of people moving through the streets, but it was unmistakably him. Stockport was following her.
Nora cautioned herself not to jump to conclusions. He was a busy man. He might very well have his own reasons to be in Manchester. It was, after all, a thriving city and Stockport was a man interested in enterprise and industry. She had no proof yet that he was here simply to follow Eleanor Habersham, a spinster of meagre means, on her errands. He had given no indication of having seen her beyond her intuition sensing his presence.
Yet, his presence sounded an alarm. Nora looked up and down the street. While it was possible that he would be in Manchester for his
