“Because,” Griffith said slowly so the man could understand, “if I don’t, you’ll enact your threat and make your presence known.”

Baxter’s expression cleared. “Right. I knew that.”

Griffith shook his head as he rose. He tossed the money on the bureau next to the door and glanced back at Baxter. “I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Baxter folded his arms over his chest. Which might’ve looked impressive if he weren’t effectively sitting on the floor. “I’ll come to you. Don’t want you forgetting to come find me.”

Fine. Whatever. “You’ll find me at the Duke of Northam’s residence in town. My name is Stanbury,” Griffith said.

Baxter’s eyes widened. “Another duke? How is it possible that Della is connected with two dukes? There are only about half a dozen in England, what are the chances?”

And what were the chances that Griffith’s Della—smart, fierce, fiery, independent Della—would have run off with this bag of beans masquerading as a gentleman?

She must have been very desperate.

Which meant that he should ensure she was never in a desperate situation again, so she wouldn’t make another foolish decision like this one.

Like marry you?

That would take some persuading, he knew that.

One thing at a time.

He didn’t bother answering Baxter’s question. It was none of the man’s business, Griffith’s money was going to make certain of that, and he didn’t want Baxter to know any more than he already did about her.

“I’ll need a day to get the rest of it,” Griffith said as he opened the door.

“A day, but no mo—” The rest of Baxter’s words were lost as Griffith stomped down the hall. The man would come see him tomorrow, if he knew what was good for him.

Otherwise he might just lose patience and take Baxter to the docks, where a man could get lost. Or pressed into Her Majesty’s service, although Griffith wouldn’t want to do a bad turn like that to Queen Victoria, no matter what she might think of his improper procedure.

Chapter 19

“Do you have a plan?” Sarah asked, smoothing Della’s gown.

Della stood in front of the glass in her bedroom, twisting so she could see how the gown looked.

It was a deep sapphire blue, a rich, lush color that required a particular type of assertive confidence to wear. And Della knew she had that. Or more precisely, that she would need it for what she was going to do.

She was going to tell him. She had no idea how—

“No, I don’t,” she replied. She shrugged, making Sarah purse her lips as she adjusted the sleeves.

“This is gorgeous,” her friend said. “You do look lovely. But then again, you always do.”