Dance of Seduction (32 page)
Despite himself, Morgan felt a chill skitter along his skin. Of course the man had a face—he was no supernatural being. Yet it was strange how he could hide it so entirely beneath that hood of his. Morgan had the unsettling impression that if he jerked the hood back, there would be nothing underneath.
He shook off the ridiculous thought. Leaning against the doorway, he said, “You’re here for your answer, I suppose.”
“Come outside, Captain Pryce,” the Specter rasped, his voice disguised as before. “We wouldn’t want you to disturb your lady friend. And we certainly wouldn’t want her to overhear our discussion.”
Alarm knotted in his gut. The Specter knew Clara was here? Ah, but perhaps he thought his “lady friend” was merely a tart. “What lady friend do you mean?”
“Don’t play dumb. Did you think I missed that ridiculous confrontation earlier? The impostor trying to frighten Lady Clara? Your springing to her rescue so gallantly?”
The arse knew it was Clara, damn him. She’d been right—the Specter
had
been watching all along.
Morgan walked out into the alley, ignoring the dirt beneath his bare feet, the brisk air stippling his skin with goose bumps. Closing the door behind him, he thanked God he’d thought to don his knife. It gave him a distinct advantage, since the Specter probably thought him unarmed. Otherwise the man would never venture close enough to risk Morgan’s killing him. Not that Morgan was ready for that yet.
Morgan turned to his enemy and said noncommittally, “So I have a woman here. What of it?”
“Not just any woman. I must say I’m impressed. I expected you to be talented with the ladies, but this is talent beyond measure—to seduce the moral and lofty Lady Clara.”
Morgan tensed, even though he knew that the door to the windowless back room had been closed the whole time and it was impossible that the Specter could have known what they’d done. “What makes you think Lady Clara would relinquish her virtue to a man like me?”
“I’m no fool. It’s 3
A.M
., you’re wearing only drawers, and the lady has been here two hours at least. Can you blame me for drawing the obvious conclusion?”
Morgan scrambled to think of a response that wouldn’t ruin Clara, his investigation, or both. “This particular lady had become a nuisance, so I silenced her the best way I know how, short of murdering her and drawing unwanted attention to myself.” When he realized this might provide him with the chance to determine the Specter’s connection to the police offices, he added, “Did you know the wench actually reported me to the magistrate?”
“I’ve heard of the trouble she’s made for you. She hasn’t exactly been discreet in her disapproval.”
And the Specter’s words hadn’t exactly revealed anything, curse his hide. The man was too crafty for such a blatant ploy.
The Specter went on in a deceptively casual voice. “So you seduced her to gain her silence, did you?”
Morgan shrugged. “What else could I do? She was making too much trouble.”
“Indeed. Though I’m surprised you could coax her into your bed. Considering that she wants to save the very pickpockets you’d like to recruit, I can’t imagine how you convinced her to overcome her personal objections to your profession.” The suspicion in the Specter’s voice was unmistakable.
Morgan knew he treaded dangerous ground, but he saw no other way out. “I didn’t even attempt to overcome her objections—as you say, she’s too moral a lady to overlook my sins. Instead I persuaded her that her information about me and my sins was wrong.”
“Oh? How did you manage that?”
“For one thing, I pointed out that I hadn’t had Johnny pinch one item for me since he began his stay here.”
“Yes, I know. I’d wondered about that.”
Damn. The man had eyes everywhere. “Surely you didn’t think I’d be that foolish. How did I know the boy wasn’t
Lady Clara’s spy, planted in my shop to catch me in the act so she could persuade the magistrate to have me arrested?”
“Good point. And very clever of you to think of it. Though if you didn’t want him to steal for you, why did you take him in?”
The man sounded less suspicious now. Sensing he was gaining the advantage, Morgan pressed on. “Her ladyship’s charges are her weakness, you know. I can afford to be kind to Johnny if it gains me her help in the end.”
“Her help?”
“All those pickpockets, of course. She has an entire houseful of willing little thieves only waiting to be tapped. Just think of what I can accomplish with them under my charge. And the authorities wouldn’t touch her, since they think her a moral sort, so I wouldn’t even have to worry about their interference. A tidy setup indeed. I’m surprised you haven’t attempted it yourself. Or at least worked to woo her children to your side.”
“I’ve considered it. But I don’t like to draw attention to my activities by public scraps with a well-known lady philanthropist, so I left well enough alone, thinking she would do the same. Which she has.” He shrugged. “But then I didn’t realize that seduction would work on Lady Clara, or I might have attempted more.”
Though the idea of the Specter seeking to seduce Clara nauseated him, Morgan forced himself to continue the loathsome conversation. The villain would only let his guard down if he felt comfortable with Morgan. And if he thought Morgan was as vicious, sly, and unscrupulous as he.
“You know these moral sorts,” Morgan said casually, “all prim and proper on the outside, but secretly burning for a man on the inside. Once I gained her interest, I was able to persuade her of whatever I liked. A lusting woman would rather believe a lie—no matter how far-fetched—than admit
that her desires have overwhelmed her good sense. I only gave Lady Clara what she wanted by telling her what she needed to hear.”
Morgan held his breath, praying that the Specter was cynical enough about women to believe the tale. When the Specter chuckled, Morgan nearly slumped in relief. He’d passed the test.
“You’re more devious than even I gave you credit for, Captain Pryce. Though if she turns moral again—”
“She won’t.” Morgan tucked his thumbs inside his drawers suggestively. “I know how to keep a woman happy. But if she should have temporary moments of rationality, I can use blackmail to squelch them. After all, how long do you think her Home would last if a scandal about her criminal lover erupted?”
A low whistle escaped the Specter’s lips. “God help the poor woman once you have her entirely under your thumb. You’re certainly going about it the right way. To control a woman, one must tread carefully, lulling her natural fears, taking one’s time in building her gilded cage around her until she doesn’t even see the bars.”
“Exactly,” Morgan answered, though the Specter’s callous assessment of womankind unsettled him. “And once I have the bars around her cage, I’ll have her pickpockets out of theirs.”
The Specter gave a brief bow. “Very good, Captain Pryce. You’re clearly a man after my own heart.” Then he stepped suddenly nearer. “The question is, are you a man after my business as well?”
Morgan chuckled. “Don’t tell me I’ve got the great Specter worried.”
“Not at all.” A knife flashed suddenly in the Specter’s hand. “
You’re
the one who stepped into the alley unarmed.”
Morgan drew his own blade before the man could even blink. “And you’re the one underestimating me. I never go anywhere unarmed.”
The Specter’s sharp intake of breath showed that Morgan had taken him by surprise. Good.
“Is this your answer?” the Specter snapped. “Has your triumph with Lady Clara made you foolish enough to think you can take me on as well?”
“Not at all. But I don’t like being threatened.”
“Very well.” The Specter’s knife vanished into his vast cloak as quickly as it had appeared. “Then I shall not threaten you. Yet.”
“And I shall not take you on. Yet.” Morgan slid his own blade back inside his waistband. “Now that we understand each other, I have a proposition for you.”
“I’ve already given you the terms of our agreement. Take them or leave them.”
“Not so fast. You’ll want to hear this. You see, I’ve asked around about you—”
“I know.”
“—and I’ve learned that while you have adequate sources for your stolen bank notes on the Continent, you have to rely on the mails to get them out of England. You risk theft and exposure every time you send a packet through the mails. Not to mention that it probably costs you an average of a shilling out of every pound to mail them.”
The Specter crossed his arms over his chest. “There are costs and risks in every endeavor.”
“Yes, but I can eliminate both for you.”
“How?”
“As you know, I have a connection with a very successful band of smugglers. I don’t have to bother with mailing stolen notes—I simply use the notes to purchase the smuggled tobacco I sell in my shop for good coin. The smugglers pay for
the tobacco in France with my notes, and they circulate there very successfully. Everyone is happy.”
“Go on.”
“Moving your notes in that manner as well would be no hardship for me.”
“Yes, but why would you do me such a service?”
“I want the police off my back. You say you have connections there. Very well—you grease those palms and I’ll grease the path of your notes out of the country.”
Jack Seward, the notorious smuggler, owed Morgan a favor after the man’s part in seeing Morgan marooned four years ago. Morgan had already spoken with Seward. For a promise that Jack could continue his brandy and tobacco smuggling unopposed, the man was more than willing to cooperate in setting the trap for a murderer.
“What about your other receiving?” the Specter asked. “I want a portion of your profits from that as well.”
“All right. I’ll give you twenty percent. Considering what I’m doing for you with the notes, that ought to be ample profit.”
They bargained back and forth until they settled on twenty-eight percent. The Specter sighed. “You drive a hard bargain, Captain. I hope you’ll make as formidable an ally as you have an enemy.”
“I’ve never been your enemy, just your competitor.”
“Same thing. Which is why I’ll want some reassurances. First of all, I want the name of your smuggler, so I can make sure he’s everything you say he is.”
“You’ll get his name when the three of us meet for the first exchange of bank notes, and not before. I won’t have you trying to cut me out by making your own connection with him.”
The Specter backed up a step. “You said nothing about a meeting. I generally deal with this sort of thing through lackeys.”
Yes, that was why the man was so hard to catch. And why this was the most important part of the transaction. They had to catch him with the notes in his possession. It was the only way to have him dead to rights. “You’re not the only one who wants reassurances, you know. My smuggler likes to know everyone he’s dealing with—smuggling is a dangerous business, and it wouldn’t do for him to find himself caught because some stranger turned him over to the excisemen. So he wants to speak to you in person at the first exchange, or there’s no deal.”
A long silence ensued, and Morgan had to bite his tongue to keep from adding other reasons why they needed a meeting. If he sounded too eager, the Specter would smell a rat.
But an easy outlet for the thousands of pounds the Specter would want to move would be hard for the man to pass up.
At last the Specter said tersely, “Very well, you shall have your meeting. But only if I set the time and place. And only if you give me your smuggler’s name now.”
Morgan hesitated, but Jack had already come to London and was staying somewhere no one would think to look for him. “All right. But I set the day, to give me enough time to reach my smuggler.” And Morgan enough time to prepare his trap.
“Fair enough. What’s his name?”
“Jack Seward.”
The Specter nodded his approval. “I’ve heard of him. One of the largest smugglers of brandy and tobacco in Sussex.”
“Soon to be the largest smuggler of bank notes in Sussex. As for the day of the meeting, is three days from now too soon?”
“No. I’ll send you a message that morning with the time of the meeting. When the time comes, be waiting here with your friend, and I’ll send a man to bring you to me. Understood?”
“Understood.” That was the way the Specter always
worked, which meant he didn’t suspect anything, thank God. Morgan backed toward the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to return to building Lady Clara’s gilded cage.”
The Specter laughed. “Of course. Is she as passionate in bed as she is in defending her young charges?”
Morgan forcibly suppressed a shudder at the thought of discussing such intimacies with the Specter. “Let’s just say I have no cause for complaint.”
“Ah, a gentleman,” the Specter said sarcastically. “All right, I’ll leave you to it then. Look for my message in three days.”
“Three days,” Morgan repeated.
His blood racing, Morgan waited until the man left the alley, then let out a heavy breath. The bait was set. Now it was only left to him and Ravenswood to spring the trap.
Time rolls like a Marble,
And awes ev’ry State;
Then improve each Moment,
Before ’tis too late.
A Little pretty pocket-book,
John Newbery
C
lara slipped into the back room and eased the inner door shut seconds before she heard Morgan close the outer door and move into the front of the shop. She hadn’t missed much of the men’s conversation—the moment Morgan had gone outside, she’d awakened. Hearing the murmur of voices in the alley, she couldn’t resist listening in.
What she’d heard told her two things. One, Morgan was right about the difference between the person who’d attacked her tonight and the real Specter. The real villain was as terrifying a character as the impostor had been clumsy. She didn’t envy Morgan having to match wits with
that
creature of the night.
Two, if anybody had the cunning to capture the creature, it was Morgan. Despite her annoyance with the tack he’d taken concerning her, she admired his quick thinking. He could spin a tale as easily and convincingly as any of her pickpockets.
