it feel, to be so vicariously notorious?’
‘Vicarious,’ Deborah replied pithily. ‘I feel as if it was someone else who clambered down that rope. Though I must confess, my conscience has been bothering me rather belatedly. That painting was very valuable.’
‘And you’re worried about what I’m going to do with the ill-gotten gains,’ Elliot said. ‘No, don’t look like that, I can’t blame you. I’m surprised you haven’t asked before.’
‘I am ashamed to admit that I most likely did not because I didn’t want a reason not to go,’ Deborah confessed. She put down her half-drunk cup of tea. ‘Why do you do it, Elliot? I mean, I can understand, that it’s partly what I wanted—the sheer thrill of it. I can understand, too, that you find civilian life rather boring compared to what you’re used to, but—to say that you care little for your own life as you just did—I can’t believe that you are hoping to be caught.’
‘Of course not. I am bored though, that is a part of it. My sister thinks I need gainful employment and she’s probably right,’ Elliot said, grimacing.
‘Gainful doesn’t sound very like you. I didn’t know you had a sister. Is she in town?’
‘For the moment. Lizzie is married to a dour Scot, who has plans to whisk her away to the Highlands for the birth of their first child.’ Elliot grinned, happy to be sidetracked. ‘I foresee some epic battles between her and her mother-in-law and I know who I’d put my money on. Lizzie is short of neither opinions nor the will to enforce them.’
‘I’d have liked to have a sister,’ Deborah said with a wistful smile. ‘I don’t have any family. My parents died when I was very young and my uncle, who became my guardian, was a bachelor, very set in his ways. When I came back to live with him after finishing school, he didn’t know what to do with me. He didn’t like Jeremy, he told me that he was only marrying me for my inheritance, but he didn’t make much of an attempt to stop me either. “You must make your own bed, and don’t come running to me if you don’t like lying in it,” he said. Not that I would have,’ she concluded, with a twisted little smile.
Did she know how much she had given away with that last little sentence? Elliot wondered, touched by her pride, angry on her behalf at the need for it. ‘Is he still alive?’
Deborah shook her head. ‘He died five years ago. I rarely saw him once I was married. I often wish I had made more of an effort.’ It was surprising how guilty she felt even now, and no amount of telling herself that Uncle Peter had made no effort to keep in touch either made any difference. She had been afraid to let him see her and had kept him at a distance as she kept everyone else. ‘I don’t know how we came on to this subject,’ she said brusquely, ‘you cannot possibly be interested in my rather pathetic life.’
‘I’m interested in you, Deborah.’
She concentrated on tucking a stray lock of hair back behind her ear, dipping her head to cover the faint traces of colour in her cheeks. ‘I can think of any number of topics more interesting.’
Elliot was much inclined to pursue the subject, but his instincts warned him it would be unwise. Teasing out secrets was second nature to him. Knowing when to stop lest he betray just how much he had garnered was a subtle art, but one which he knew he had mastered. Though it had to be said, he admitted wryly to himself, that Deborah was proving to be more of a challenge than any close-mouthed diplomat. ‘Why did I invent the Peacock, then? Does that constitute a more interesting topic?’
Deborah nodded. ‘Provided it does not also constitute an intrusion. I would like to know, for you puzzle me. Your victims are selected too carefully for them to be random. Do you have some sort of personal grudge against them?’
‘What makes you say that?’ Elliot asked sharply.
‘I don’t know.’ Deborah frowned. ‘I suppose I cannot believe you do it for personal gain and there are too many robberies for it to be simply the thrill of it which drives you. You’d have become bored by now if that was it.’
‘You are very perceptive. It is to be hoped that none of the gentlemen at Bow Street has your wit.’
‘None of the gentlemen at Bow Street has my inside information. Is it too personal? I will understand if you don’t wish to say any more.’
Elliot drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. His instincts were to confide in her, though common sense told him that by doing so he was taking an unwarrantable risk. Not of deliberate exposure, she would not do that, but an inadvertent comment, a remark let slip in the wrong company—how could he be sure she would not do that?
He just knew. She was as close as a clam and, of her own admission, she lived like a hermit. Besides, he wanted to tell her. He wanted her to know. ‘You were right about my victims,’ he said. ‘They are very carefully selected. All of them were at some point responsible for the supply chain—or lack of it—to the army. Medical supplies, orderlies and doctors, boots, basic rations, horses. Most of all horses. They kept us short of all of those things, because after all, what does an army need to fight except guns? Even if you can’t get the guns to the battlefield. Even if you can’t get the men wounded by those guns misfiring back to a field hospital. What do they care? They don’t,’ he said flatly. ‘I know they don’t because all my letters and protests and reports fell on deaf ears at the time, and now—well, now it is done and everyone wants to forget all about it, so there is even less point in letters and reports and protests.’
‘So you take what will hurt them instead.’
‘Yes, that’s exactly what I do.’
‘Did you lose many men because of such shortages?’
‘Yes.’
‘Friends, too? Forgive me, but it seems to me such a very personal thing you are doing, there must have been someone …’
‘There was. My best friend.’ Elliot gripped the arms of his chair so tightly that his knuckles showed white.
‘Henry,’ Deborah said gently. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Elliot nodded curtly.
‘I truly am sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you; you don’t need to say any more.’
‘I want to,’ Elliot said, surprising both of them. ‘I want to tell you.’ He swallowed repeatedly, cleared his throat. ‘We joined up together, Henry and I, I told you that already. We worked our way through the ranks together, though he was much too ill-disciplined to keep his stripes for long. He made it to captain once, but it only lasted about six months. He was a first-class soldier. We always looked out for each other. When I needed an extra pair of hands, I always turned to Henry. He was quick with his fists, but he knew the importance of keeping other things close, which was important in my—my alternative line of business.’
He paused. Across from him, Deborah was gazing at him intently. Would she be shocked? He doubted it, somehow. More likely excited, as she was by the Peacock. That decided him. ‘The thing is, I wasn’t just a fighting man. There’s a reason why the Peacock is so able.’ He grinned. ‘Actually, it’s ironic that the very skills I learned in order to steal secrets are the same ones I use to steal their property now. Most of which, I hasten to add, was stolen in the first place.’
Deborah stared at him in utter astonishment. ‘You mean—what you’re saying is that you—you
