Page 2 of A Relentless Rake

A new leading minister who had the backing of the military, a large portion of the government, and a significant number of reformist Englishmen could far too easily come sweeping into power. For God’s sake, Oliver Cromwell had certainly proved the possibility of doing just that. Now, with revolutions that were replacing monarchs with elected governments spreading across the world, the average Englishman would simply think the time for change had come.

But Scepter would never give true voice to the people. They’d seize power just as tyrannically as Napoleon, slide their own corrupt dictator into place, and change the election laws to make certain he remained in power.

Yet in the last year since the Armory’s group of former soldiers had pledged to find Scepter’s leaders and arrest them, they were still no closer to their goal.

But now, it seemed Scepter had finally made a mistake.

“Sidmouth put me in charge of the investigation,” Clayton told Reed and St James. “It led me to an inn where the men responsible for the explosion had been meeting, but they’d already tossed all their documents into the fireplace and fled by the time I arrived.” His mouth twisted. “I believe they were warned of my arrival.”

“Then you have a mole in the Home Office,” St James drawled.

Clayton confirmed that with a curt nod. “Which is why I’ve called upon you two. This investigation needs to remain secret. Only the three of us and Lord Sidmouth know about it. No one else inside the Home Office, Bow Street, or any of the offices in Whitehall are aware of this meeting.” He paused to make certain they understood the importance of their mission. “Not even General Braddock and the other men of the Armory have been told. Nor will they be. Not by me. Not by you.”

The two men exchanged assessing looks, but neither was willing to refuse the mission in front of the other, just as Clayton had hoped.

He straightened to his full height and announced, “By authorization of Lord Sidmouth, Secretary of the Home Office, you have been charged with stopping the men responsible for the bombing by any means necessary.” He paused before adding, “And with complete legal immunity.”

Reed and St James stilled. Both pairs of identical hazel eyes turned somber with understanding. They had just been sanctioned to commit murder if necessary.

“But how do we find them?” Reed asked. “You said that all the evidence had been destroyed.”

“Except this.” Clayton reached into his jacket’s inside breast pocket. “I found this buried in the ashes of the inn’s fireplace. No one at the Home Office knows it exists, not even Sidmouth.”

He held up a tiny scrap of paper. Its edges had been burned black from the fire, but enough of it remained legible to identify it as a building plan. It was filled with mathematical symbols and calculations along with a single scribbled name—Everett.

Clayton handed it to St James. “You start with this.”

One

Olivia Everett stared at the three men coming toward her and Mrs. Adams in the dark alley and choked back a useless scream. No one lingered near enough to hear, and even if anyone did, they wouldn’t come to her rescue. Not here. Not at this time of night. And certainly not in a part of London where screams were as common as rats.

“Get behind me,” she whispered to Mrs. Adams and slid herself between the men and the woman who served as the Everett School’s housekeeper. The older woman had insisted on accompanying Olivia when she found her trying to sneak out just after midnight to look for her brother. Olivia had tried to talk her out of it, and now—oh, how she regretted not trying harder!

Their hired hackney waited two streets over. The rig had been unable to navigate the final hundred yards up the dark narrow alley to her brother’s last known location before he disappeared two days ago. If they could slip past the men who leered at them with toothless smiles as they came closer, they might have a chance of escape. Olivia inhaled a deep breath for courage. If she could only get Mrs. Adams to safety—

She pulled the kitchen knife from her skirt pocket and shoved Mrs. Adams away. “Run!”

Mrs. Adams shot off down the dark alley.

Olivia remained to fight and give the housekeeper time to flee. She slashed the knife back and forth in front of her in warning.

The three men laughed. Helplessness rose sickeningly like bile into her throat.

“Stay away from her!”

A man dropped into the alley from an overhanging roof and landed on the balls of his feet as gracefully as a panther. Dressed in all black, he’d covered the upper half of his face behind a black silk mask that revealed only the cold gaze of his eyes and a jaw clenched in anger. In his right hand, a blade the size of a bayonet glinted in the dim moonlight.

The three attackers hesitated, as startled at his sudden appearance as Olivia. Then their expressions hardened, and they charged.

The masked man slashed his sword. The blade caught one of the men in the forearm, and the sharp steel sliced through coat sleeve, shirt, and flesh beneath with a sickening slide. Howling in pain, the attacker fell back. Another man clenched his fists and swung.

The masked man ducked. A fist sailed harmlessly over his head.

“Go!” he shouted at Olivia as he lunged forward and thrust his blade.

But Olivia was glued in place from terror, unable to tear her eyes away from the fight. Fear strangled in her throat and sent her heart pounding wildly. With one hand gripping the handle of the knife at her side, she pressed herself against the stone wall and watched as the masked stranger expertly dodged the threatening blows.

His blade flashed as it swung low and struck the second attacker’s thigh. The man screamed and fell hard to the cobblestones, then crawled away toward the street and escape. A trail of blood colored the stones in his wake.