“Precisely. I think he might try to break into the Tower.” Max leaned back. “The jewels housed there are worth millions.”
“Do you have friends you can trust?” Fielding asked.
Max nodded. “With my life.”
Fielding stood. “Gather them tomorrow evening, and then I suppose it will be time to storm the Tower.”
CHAPTER 24
“What makes you so certain the Raven will have the box with him?” Esme asked.
“Now that he has it in his possession, he’ll not allow it out of his sight,” Fielding said. He pulled back the curtain and peered out the carriage window. He and Esme, as well as a bound Waters, were parked a block away from the Tower of London, next to a thick line of laurel bushes.
Esme nodded. It was dusk now and the moon would start rising soon, expanding to its full rounded size before the earth would create a shadow. They had a few hours, but her heart thudded loudly in her ears, like a clock ticking off her remaining minutes.
Fielding flipped open his pocket watch. “They’ll be there soon.” He put his hand on Esme’s knee. “Do you have the pistol I gave you?”
Reaching up under her dress, she untied the small pistol and set it in her lap. Waters’s eyes grew round. Good, it was about time she struck fear in someone.
“Do you see how you’ve driven me to a life of crime?” she asked him in her best chastising tone. She raised both of her eyebrows. “Had you not kidnapped me, I could have been left alone with my studies, minding my own concerns.”
Waters shrugged and tried to speak, but the gag muffled his words.
“But no,” she continued, “you dreadful men had to include me in your nefarious plans, and now look at us.” She picked up the pistol and shook it at him. “I have a weapon, for goodness’ sake.”
Their captive’s eyes rounded even further, and he nodded fervently.
“I should hope you’ll know better than to provoke me into using it. You never know how dangerous a woman can be.” It occurred to her then she didn’t even know if the weapon was loaded. It was on her tongue to ask Fielding, but she thought better of it so as not to alert Waters should her gun be functionally worthless.
“Easy.” Fielding put his hand over hers and pressed the gun into her lap. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” Fielding exited their carriage and then stuck his head back inside. “And whatever you do, don’t touch him!”
Esme nodded at Fielding, then turned back to her captive. “Now listen,” she said, jabbing the gun into Waters’s knee. “You follow our instructions, and this will all go smoothly.” At least she hoped it would. Her insides were shaking so violently it was a wonder she could form complete sentences.
“It’s time,” Fielding said as he poked his head in. “Esme, do you have the key?”
She reached up and fingered the chain at her neck, then nodded.
The walk down the block didn’t take long, and thankfully the streets were virtually empty. Banners hung from streetlamps announcing tomorrow’s festivities for the Golden Jubilee. Her Majesty had planned a long and winding parade through the streets of London, and the entire city was expectant and encouraged, longing to see their queen after her extended period of mourning her husband, Albert.
Everyone with the exception of Esme. She couldn’t afford to feel excitement about celebrations, not until she knew she would be here to enjoy them.
Esme and Fielding huddled against the outer wall of the Tower with their captive and waited for the rest of the men to arrive. Esme scanned the street, taking note of the scaffolding that had been built as makeshift seating for the parade. Down the way she saw a gardener putting finishing touches on a bed of flowers laid out like a jewel- toned carpet.
And then she caught sight of Max approaching with two men behind him.
“Grey,” one man said with a smile and an outstretched hand. “It’s been a while.” Nick Callum was startlingly handsome, with thick wavy black hair and equally dark eyes.
They shook hands. “Yes, it has been,” Fielding agreed.
The second man held his hand out to Fielding. “Fielding,” Max said, “this is Graeme Langford.”
Graeme’s unfashionably long hair gave him a wild appearance, but his mossy green eyes softened the look. When he spoke, he hid a hint of a Scottish brogue. “Max’s told us about your current predicament.” He looked to be a serious sort but seemed ready to assist.
“Gentlemen,” Max said, “this is Esme Worthington.”
“Ah, the lady with that awful curse,” Nick said with a flash of a smile. “The Raven has caused problems for us in the past. We’ve been looking for a little retribution.”
“Who exactly are we looking for?” Graeme asked. “I’m not sure I know what this Raven looks like.” His brogue thickened as he spoke.