Tristan stopped to talk to her; behind his back, he waved to them to go on without him. They did.
In Waverton Street, Tony jumped down from the hackney. Collier, masquerading as a street sweeper, was lounging on the railings close by the Carrington residence.
The heavily built man tipped his cap as Tony paused beside him. “Five redbreasts, m’lord. Never seen the like in all my born days—they pushed in like it was a thieves’ den. Pompous little sort leading from the rear.”
Tony murmured his thanks. “Keep watching.”
“Aye.” Collier eased upright. “I will that.”
Christian had paid off the hackney; he and Charles followed as, jaw set, Tony strode up the steps. He didn’t knock, but flung the front door wide and stalked in.
A young Runner standing before the drawing room door started, instinctively snapping to attention, then pausing, confusion in his face.
From the direction of the parlor, a stocky sergeant barreled forward, belligerence in every line. “Here, then! Who’d you think you are? You can’t just barge in ’ere.”
Tony reached into his coat pocket, and withdrew a card. “Viscount Torrington.” Face impassive, he handed the card to the sergeant, gestured to Christian and Charles. “The Marquess of Dearne and the Earl of Lostwithiel. Where are Mrs. Carrington and her family?”
The sergeant fingered the expensive card, tracing the embossed printing. “Ah…” His belligerence fled. He glanced at his junior barring the drawing-room door. “The inspector placed the lady and her household under guard, m’lord. Took ’em all into custody, like.”
“Your inspector seems to have overlooked the point that Mrs. Carrington is already in my custody, a fact of which the local office of the Watch is well aware.” Tony let his fury ripple beneath his words, subtly scathing.
Yielding to instinct, the sergeant came to attention, eyes fixed forward. “We’re not local, m’lord. We came directly from headquarters—Bow Street.”
“That’s no excuse. Who’s in charge here? What’s your inspector’s name?”
“Sprigs, m’lord.”
“Fetch him.” Tony caught the hapless sergeant’s eye.
“I’m going to check on Mrs. Carrington, to make sure neither she nor any member of her household has suffered any ill effects from your inspector’s reckless action. Your inspector better pray they haven’t. When I return here, I expect to find him waiting, along with every member of your force currently within this house. Is that clear?”
The sergeant swallowed. Nodded. “Yessir.”
Tony turned on his heel and made for the drawing-room door. The young Runner gave way, hurriedly stepping back. Tony opened the door; pausing, he scanned the room, then released the knob and walked in.
Relief flooded Alicia; she jumped up from the chaise and went quickly to meet Tony. Two other gentlemen followed him in; from their appearance and actions, they were friends. The one with black curling hair moved to intercept their guard, struggling out of the armchair he’d commandeered with a weak “Hey!”
Tony turned his head and looked at the man.
Suddenly the object of two unnerving gazes, he stopped, apparently paralyzed by caution.
She reached Tony; his gaze returned to her, searched her face. He took her hands, squeezed lightly. “Are you all right?”
His gaze had gone past her to the boys, Adriana, and all their staff gathered about the chaise.
“Yes.” She glanced back to see them all on their feet.
“Just a trifle shocked.” In truth, she was furious, still seething; the inspector’s insinuations had made her blood boil. Looking back at Tony, she lowered her voice. “Is this about the letters?”
He squeezed her fingers again; instead of answering— an answer in itself—he kept his attention on the others. “This is all a mistake—we’re here to sort it out. I want all of you to stay here quietly. There’s nothing to fear.”
Adriana nodded; forcing her lips to curve, she sat down again. The boys glanced at her, uncertain, then looked again at Tony.
He nodded. “Stay here with Adriana. Alicia and I will be back in a few minutes.” She was close enough to sense the tension that held him, yet he smiled with beguiling charm at her brothers. “I promise I’ll explain all later.”
The smile and that promise reassured them; with fleeting if brittle smiles, they went to cluster around Adriana.
Alicia noted the look Tony exchanged with Maggs, and more briefly with the new footman, Scully, both of whom had refused to be shifted from her and her family’s sides, then he took her arm and turned her to the door.
The other two gentlemen flanked them. Beside her, the larger smiled, as charming in his way as Tony, and half bowed. “Dearne. A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Carrington, even in such trying circumstances. Rest assured we’ll have this settled in short order.”
She bobbed a brief curtsy.
“Indeed,” the second gentleman said. He saluted her. “Lostwithiel, for my sins.” His grin was unrepentant. “We can deal with the introductions later.”
Tony shot him a glance as he opened the door.
They emerged into the front hall just as the inspector, a short, red-haired man of uncertain temper with an aggressive attitude and an abrasive tongue, came charging up from the direction of the parlor. “What the devil’s going on here?” The demand fell just short of a raging bellow.
Fixing on their company, his eyes momentarily widened, then he recovered. “Scrugs! Dammit, man— don’t you know better than to allow visitors in?”
He rounded on the sergeant, who held his ground. Scrugs nodded at Tony. “This here’s his lordship, what I told you about, sir. And the marquess and the earl.” There was enough emphasis in Scrugs’s tone to convey the fact that if his superior didn’t know when to back off, Scrugs certainly did.
“Inspector…Sprigs, is it?” The words were mild, Tony’s tone was not. It cut.
Sprigs swung to face him, glaring belligerently. “Aye. And I’ll have you know—”
“I assume you checked with the local Watch supervisor before barging onto his patch? Elcott, that would be.”
Sprigs blinked; faint wariness crept into his piggy eyes. “Aye, but—”
“I’m surprised Elcott didn’t inform you that Mrs. Carrington is already in my custody.”
Sprigs cleared his throat. “He did mention it—”
“Indeed?” Tony raised his brows. “And did he also happen to mention that my orders in this matter come from Whitehall?”
Sprigs drew himself up. “Be that as it may, my lord, the information we’ve received—’deed, the people we received it from—well, we couldn’t hardly ignore such, Whitehall or no.”
“What information?”
Sprigs pressed his lips together, glanced at Alicia, then ventured, “That Mrs. Carrington here had hired some villains to do away with this man Ruskin, on account of she was in league with the French. Word had it that if we searched this house thoroughly, we’d find evidence enough to prove it.”
“From whom did this information come?”
Again Sprigs hesitated; again the stretching silence forced him to answer. “Brought to us indirect, it was.” He saw Tony’s welling contempt and rushed on, “From the gentlemen’s clubs. Seems a number of the high-and-mighty heard the story—wanted to know what we were doing about it. Questions were asked. They even had the commissioner himself in to explain.”
Sprigs glanced at Charles and Christian, then looked at Tony. “It’s treason we’re talking about here. Don’t suppose toffs like you care all that much, but if you’d served in the recent wars—”