Visions of little coffins danced before her eyes. “The children — they’re all right? All of them?”
“Oh, yes, didn’t I say that? Nick saved them. He’s very brave, even if he is a burglar. He walked us home, as a matter of fact. He wanted to see Harry, no doubt for a reward, but Harry’s not home yet so I told him to come back later. Aunt Plum? Are you all right? You look a bit pale.”
“A burglar saved you?” Plum asked in a weak voice. Her head was spinning in such a way that she was sure she was going to swoon, but she was not the swooning type, and made an effort to get a hold of her tumultuous emotions.
“Yes, he was walking us home. He really does have nice manners, especially for a ruffian.”
Then again, there was something to be said for a good swoon. “Thom?”
“Yes?”
“Why were you allowing a burglar to escort you home?”
“He’s a very nice burglar,” Thom said, twisting her damp skirt between her fingers. “I’m sure if you were to meet him, you’d see that right away.”
Plum tried to think of something to say to that, but she was having a little difficulty putting her thoughts into words. “The children are all right?” she asked again, not being able to think of much else.
Thom nodded, smiling as she patted Plum’s hands. “Yes, they’re fine, a little wet, but no harm done. I sent them up to Gertie and George to change into dry clothing. Who is the Charles you want to kill?”
“Charles, my Charles, or the Charles who used to be mine, not that he really ever was, a fact I find myself profoundly grateful for now that I have Harry.” Plum’s mind, a bit dazed, was beginning to return to her normal state of lucidity. She would have to tell Harry about the latest accident concerning the children. Perhaps if he thought they were too headstrong in town, he would send them all home, and then Charles wouldn’t have the opportunity…oh, but that wouldn’t work. Even if Harry did send them home, he would stay, and Charles would simply avoid him while spreading the news about Plum far and wide. No, she’d have to stay where she was and deal with him.
Thom sucked in her breath. “I thought he was dead.”
“So did I. He isn’t. He’s very much alive, and blackmailing me.”
Thom’s jaw sagged. Knowing her secrets were safe with Thom, Plum fi lled her in on the morning’s conversation with Charles, ending with her solution to the problem.
“You’re going to kill him?” Thom asked, her eyes wide.
“I don’t see any other way around it, do you?”
“Hmm.” Thom thought for a moment, then shook her head. “No, I think you’re right, the only way you’ll ever truly be free of him is if you silence him forever. How are you going to do it?”
“I have no idea,” Plum answered, somewhat pettishly she knew, but if anyone had a right to be pettish, surely she had. “The book I borrowed from Hookham’s is about methods of execution, not how to eliminate a blackmailer. I don’t suppose Charles would willingly put his head in a noose or allow himself to be drawn and quartered. There’s shooting, but I don’t own a pistol, let alone know how to shoot one.”
Thom rose to her feet, and paced the length of the room. “How about setting his house on fire?”
Plum waved that offering away. “No, that would harm others, and no one else should suffer for Charles’s sins.”
“Mmm. Well, there’s drowning.”
“Difficult to arrange.”
“Bow and arrow?”
“My aim is very poor.”
Thom stopped in front of her. “What about poison?”
“I wouldn’t know what to give him. Oh, this is ridiculous,” Plum said, getting to her feet to pace with Thom. “We are two intelligent, well-educated women. You would think we would be able to think of something so simple as the way to kill a man.”
“You’re the one with literary skills,” Thom pointed out. “What would you do if you were writing this in a book?”
“Arrange for a convenient accident to eliminate him from the plot,” Plum snapped, then sat down and burst into tears. It was useless! As hard as she tried to justify to herself the act of killing Charles, she just couldn’t condone the taking of his life. And now because she was so weak, Charles would tell everyone who she was, and Harry would leave her, and she would ruin the children’s lives, and Thom’s, and her poor babe’s, and life would be horrible, and she would end up in the ditch with the earthworm, and why oh why didn’t Charles drown when everyone said he did?
“I’m so sorry, Aunt Plum. Is there anything I can do?”
“No. It’s hopeless. No one can help me now.” Despite her gloomy words, Plum gave herself a mental shake. She had to think her way out of this horrible situation. She would not allow Charles to ruin more lives. If she couldn’t kill him, what would stop him from blackmailing her? A threat? Bribery? Or what about a scandal so horrible the threat of it being made public guaranteed his silence?
Thom wrung her hands and paced nervously, periodically stopping to pat Plum on the shoulder, murmuring little things about it being all right, but Plum was oblivious to it all as she turned over several ideas of manufactured scandals that might do the job of silencing Charles on the subject of her own past. “I think, perhaps, that is my only option,” she said softly, renewed determination flaring within her. “Yes, it is. But I will need help with the plan…someone to carry out my instructions. Someone unsavory who won’t mind getting his hands dirty, so to speak.”
“Help? Instructions?” Thom’s air of distressed quickly dissipated. “With your plan for Charles, you mean?”
“Yes,” Plum answered, distracted by the sudden fertile fields of imagination that opened before her as she contemplated the many options of coercing Charles into holding his tongue. She was more than a little bit relieved that she wouldn’t have to use threats, or try to find the money to bribe him. Her way was much simpler. She would pay someone to create a potential scandal so hideous in its nature, Charles would be forced to give up his blackmail in order to stop her from enacting the plan.
“I know just the man to help you!” Thom clutched Plum’s hands in hers, pulling her to her feet. “He will do anything you desire. He’s bright, and intelligent, and if you tell him what you want done, he’ll do it!”
“What? Who?” Plum asked, wondering if a brainstorm could strike someone as young as Thom.
“Nick!”
“Who? Oh, your burglar?”
“Yes, him!” Thom hugged herself and spun around again. “Nick is very unsavory, in a savory polite sort of way. He wouldn’t mind doing anything you asked of him, even…er…you know.”
Plum blinked at her niece in confusion.
“What you mentioned,” Thom said in an undertone. “You know, the unsavory things.”
“Ah.” She was referring to the scandal. Plum thought on that for a moment. Thom’s burglar might just fit the role of scandalmonger very well. A man in his line of business certainly couldn’t object to helping her with her righteous cause. “It has merit. I wouldn’t have to effect the act myself, which I will admit has been causing me some worry. Very well, I will speak with this burglar of yours, but I make no promises! It behooves me to keep all avenues open. I will continue to investigate possible men I can employ until I know whether or not your burglar can do the job, or find someone to do it for me. Thank you, Thom! You might just have saved all our lives.”
Harry, returning home from a quick meeting with a couple of handpicked Bow Street Runners, was surprised to learn that there was a person of obviously low repute awaiting him in his study. He was even more surprised when that unsavory person turned out to be his godson.
“Nick! What the devil are you doing soaked to the skin, and in such repulsive clothes?” Objectionable garments notwithstanding, Harry hugged his godson, noting to himself that Nick — who had always resembled his father — was now the spitting image of Noble. They shared the same black hair, gray eyes, and big frame. “You’ve grown since I last saw you,” he added. “You’ve got one or two inches on me now.”
Nick didn’t respond to the banter, although he did give Harry a bone-crushing hug. “Papa said you’d hung up your spy hat years ago. You’re not doing another job, are you?”
Harry, mildly surprised by the serious look in Nick’s eyes, shook his head and waved toward one of two calfskin chairs. Although he hadn’t seen Nick for a few years, it wasn’t hard to see that the young man had done a bit of growing up since last they’d met. He did a bit of arithmetic and was surprised to find that Nick was now twenty-three years of age. Had it really been so long? “No, not really. I’m doing a bit of looking into something that happened years ago, but not a job, not a real job. Why do you ask?”
“Someone tried to kill your children this afternoon.”
Harry shot up out of the chair and was halfway to the door before Nick’s voice stopped him. “They’re all right, Harry. Thom was there, as was I. No one was hurt. I escorted them home, just to be sure another attempt wasn’t made.” Nick frowned and pulled at his lower lip. “I’m fairly certain it was an attempt on their lives, but I suppose it could have been just an accident…”
The word accident resonated in Harry’s mind. Plum had been concerned about the numbers of accidents the children were having of late…but that was foolish. They had been random accidents caused by the children’s heedless determination to do whatever fool thought entered their collective heads.
Or were they?