“He told you that?” Ellie said wonderingly. “Tess, you’re amazing. You could make a Mother Superior confess to murder.”
“I think it was the laudanum and brandy that loosened his tongue, but thank you.”
Tess reached into her satchel and pulled out the print she’d retrieved from Case’s bureau. She smoothed it flat on the desk, trying to control her flush at exactlyhowit had become so crumpled. It had been smooth when she’d left Case’s house. It had been crushed in her skirts when Thornton had done those disgracefully debauched things to her in the carriage.
Ellie gasped in shock.
Daisy tilted her head to get a better view. “Well, she certainly seems to be enjoying herself.”
Ellie made a face. “It doesn’tlookvery enjoyable.”
Daisy gave a lusty sigh. “Oh, it is, believe me. Tom did it to me once, in the stables. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.”
Ellie didn’t look convinced, and Tess prayed the others would interpret her pink cheeks as embarrassment, and not guilt.
At any other time, she would have told them exactly what had happened after she’d left Case’s house, but for some reason she didn’t want to share. It was her secret, something she wanted to keep to herself.
“Why are you showing us this?”
Tess pointed to the bottom of the print. “See that? Joseph Stockdale. He’s our blackmailer. Probably the man you saw last night. Case sold the letters to him for fifty pounds a couple of weeks ago.”
“He’s a print seller?” Daisy asked.
“Yes. If the queen doesn’t pay the ransom, I expect he’ll publish the letters himself. Case said he has a print shop over in Covent Garden.”
Daisy leaned on the edge of the desk. “Would it be so terrible if theywerepublished? If Leopold is as smitten with Charlotte as everyone says he is, then surely he’s not going to call off the wedding just because of some years-old indiscretion.” She wrinkled her nose. “It’s such a double standard. Nobody expectshimto have a spotless reputation.”
“It’s always been that way,” Ellie grumbled. “Women are held to a completely different standard.”
“That’s what I hate about theton,” Daisy said. “Nobody really believes the princess is a virgin, or cares, but they all like topretendshe is. It’s a mass conspiracy.”
“True. They’ll turn a blind eye to youthful folly when there’s no hard evidence, but if explicit details of the letters come out it will be very hard to dismiss it as rumor and spite.”
“So what should we do? Head over to Covent Garden and pay this Stockdale a visit? Or wait for him to issue another demand?”
Tess pursed her lips. “Neither. We should turn the tables and sendhima demand. It will put him on the back foot. He’ll realize we know who he is, and the fact that he hasn’t already been arrested will make him think we’re prepared to continue dealing with him discreetly. He’ll think he still has a chance to get the money.”
“An excellent plan.”
Tess pulled out a pen, paper, and ink from her desk and started to write.
Sir,
Your attempt to contact me at Lady Greenwood’s last night was unsuccessful, but as you can see, your identity has been deduced.
My client requires proof that you do, indeed, have the letters you claim to possess. You will have one delivered to King & Co., No.7 Lincoln’s Inn Fields, as a gesture of goodwill. If we are satisfied that it is genuine, we will arrange a time and place for you to exchange the rest.
“Should we sign it?” Daisy asked. “He might already know who you are, Tess, if he saw us together last night.”
“True.” Tess smiled. “But in case he doesn’t, I’ll just sign it ‘Scarlet.’”
Chapter Twenty
The following day Tess, Daisy, and Ellie took a trip to Covent Garden and found the print shop owned by Stockdale.
It was impossible to see inside from the street: each pane of the lopsided bow window was filled with a scurrilous print, although none so scandalously erotic as the one Tess had stolen from Case.
The three of them were chuckling over unflattering portraits of the prince regent and the Duke of York, when Daisy let out a snort.
