“Let’s not give up hope,” Livy said. “As Mama likes to say, there is more than one way to cook an egg. We are dealing with a puzzle, and my intuition tells me we have most of the pieces.”
Her face was set in determined lines that, in spite of the situation, Ben found adorable. She had always been clever, and he saw now how well her abilities suited investigative work. His bride-to-be had always marched to the beat of her own drum…and he was proud of her independent spirit. Proud of her.
“We have yet to thoroughly examine the clues we found in the villain’s hideout,” she went on. “If we put our heads together, perhaps we will come up with answers.”
“How did you manage to find the hideout?” Ben wanted to know.
“Longmere’s painting,” Fiona answered, waving to a small landscape on an easel behind her. “One of his models had it in her possession. Our hypothesis is that Longmere somehow tracked the villain, or the villain’s henchmen, to the lair. He wanted out of the enterprise but lacked the courage to take the final step. Then one night, he did confront the so-called Fong…and paid for it with his life.”
Ben crossed over to look at the painting, Chen doing the same.
Livy followed behind them, pointing out the building at the painting’s center. “While we found some clues there—including the Duchess of Hadleigh’s letter and an odd poem—we did not find the supply of Devil’s Bliss.”
Ben stared at the painting. Cherise’s voice floated from the recesses of his mind.
He said that the Devil had floated in on a Siren’s song, luring him to an inescapable death, but I could still break free…
The answer struck Ben.
“Could the drug be kept on a boat? According to Lady Foxton, Longmere said that the Devil had floated in on a Siren’s song…” Ben tapped his finger against the boat next to the building, which had a figurehead of a mermaid. “And that, I believe, is a Siren.”
“That would explain why we didn’t find evidence of the drug in the house.” Livy’s eyes lit with excitement. “When we were there last night, the dock was empty.”
“The question, then, is how do we find the boat?” Lady Fayne mused. “That sort of figurehead is exceedingly common.”
“We could keep following the Horsemen,” Glory suggested. “The villain will eventually slip up.”
“We could also confront Stamford,” Fiona said. “He is the weakest link in the chain. If we were to tell him that Longmere was killed—and Hadleigh nearly so—by a member of his own group masquerading as Fong, he might tell us everything he knows. Two men out of five targeted for murder: even Stamford will recognize that those are not good odds.”
“Do you think Stamford knows who the real villain is?” Chen queried.
“Probably not,” Lady Fayne said thoughtfully. “The scoundrel has hidden his tracks well. If Stamford tells us his delivery point, however, we could stage an ambush.”
From Chen’s expression, Ben could tell his friend was impressed with the Society of Angels. As was he. These ladies were uncommonly shrewd.
Suddenly, Ben remembered something else from last night.
“This might be unimportant,” he said slowly. “But Thorne did mention that the Horsemen had solved some kind of riddle to figure out where to pick up the Devil’s Bliss.”
“Five men.” Livy blinked. “Five delivery points. And five lines.”
She rushed back to the coffee table, snatching up a piece of paper. Standing behind her, Ben read over her shoulder. It appeared to be a nonsensical verse:
A favorite of pirating swaps,
And mannered grocers,
I am the cause of a nightdress furor.
To find me, head on yonder towards snails
And swim with the fish beating gills.
“Where did you get this?” Ben asked.
“The villain’s desk. Hold it, will you?” Livy shoved the paper at him. “I’ll be right back!”
Watching her dash from the room, Ben felt his lips quirk. Some things never changed. Inside his beloved’s alluringly adult body still beat the heart of his bold little queen…and he hoped that she never lost that exuberance of spirit. Hoped that she would pass it onto any children they might be blessed to have together.
The notion of siring offspring had once filled him with ambivalence. He hadn’t known if he had anything worth passing on…had begun to think it would be better for the title to be passed down his sister’s line. The idea of having babes with Livy, however, led to heady elation. Their children would be as bright and beautiful as their mama, and what fun he and Livy would have raising—and making—them.
Livy was back in moments, breathless and clutching a small velvet bag. She plopped into one of the chairs and emptied the satchel onto the coffee table; her anagram tiles spilled out. She lined up the letters, spelling out MANNERED GROCERS.
Having been crushed by Livy during their games, Ben was used to the nimble speed of her fingers as she rearranged the letters. The result made his breath catch nonetheless:
CREMORNE GARDENS.
“That one I saw straight away since I knew Cremorne Gardens was one of the delivery points.” She was already working on the next words, PIRATING SWAPS. “I believe each line contains a location.”
She triumphantly revealed the next site: WAPPING OLD STAIRS.
Torn between amusement at her smug expression and pride at her intellect, Ben chucked her under the chin. “Should I offer to help…or will I be in the way?”
Her grin was impish. “Your moral support is appreciated.”
Within minutes, she had unscrambled the anagrams into five locations: Wapping Old Stairs, Cremorne Gardens, Hungerford Stairs, Old Swan Stairs, and Billingsgate.
“The delivery tonight is likely to be at one of these places. But which one?” Livy mused.
“We could split up, monitor all of them.” Lady Fayne looked at Chen. “If Mr. Chen could offer assistance, we may have enough numbers.”
Chen inclined his head. “It would be my pleasure, my lady. My team and I could take two of the locations.”
“Why don’t you monitor Wapping
