“Why, Crouch, how opportune that you should be just there as I was speaking aloud to myself. As you have asked, yes, I did say something. This letter you brought me—it’s quite baffling.”

Crouch adopted a pose that indicated unadulterated interest. “Bafflin’, m’lady? ’Twas sent to ye at Nethercote, but since yer ’ere, the steward ’ad it sent up by ’and.”

“Yes, I understand how it came to be forwarded to me, but what I’m baffled about is the letter’s contents. It tells me that if I should ride to London and call at a specific address in Kensington, I shall learn something of interest regarding my husband.”

Crouch frowned. “Someone wanted ye to ride from Nethercote to town? Why would someone be wantin’ that?”

Gillian tapped the edge of the note to her lips as she thought. “This letter must have been sent to me in order to draw me into finding Noble shackled to his mistress’s bed.”

Crouch frowned. “Well if that ain’t dicked in the nob.”

“Um…yes, possibly, depending, of course, on whose nob it is that has been dicked. The question is, who sent this? The person who waylaid his lordship, or someone else?”

Crouch blew out his cheeks and scratched his belly with his hook as he considered the question. “Don’t see ’ow anyone else could be knowin’ what ’appened to ’is lordship unless they was the cull what smushed ’im.”

Gillian blinked. “Ah, yes. I see your point. Only the smushing cull would have known where Noble could be found. But how would this cull know I was at Nethercote and not in town? Our removal to Nethercote wasn’t in the papers.”

Crouch sucked his lip. “That be a right good question, m’lady. A right good ’un.”

Gilliam beamed at him for a moment. “Well, we shall put our minds to the problem. In the mean time, I have a task for you, but you mustn’t tell Lord Weston about it.”

“Crikey, m’lady, ’is lordship’ll be ’avin’ my ’ead if I was to do somethin’ against ’is wishes.”

Gillian smiled. “It’s not against his wishes. That is, it would be if he knew about it, but he doesn’t, so that makes it all right. Do you see?”

Crouch groaned and rubbed his eyes with his good hand. “I’m afraid I do, m’lady. What is it yer wantin’ me to do, then?”

Gillian removed a slip of paper from beneath a letter she had been writing and handed it to him. “I want you to go to Bow Street and hire some of those Runner persons. A half dozen should do, I’d think. They should be armed, and if they aren’t, you should see that they are equipped with pistols. Or muskets—whichever you think best. Then you are to take the men to be fitted for livery, and bring them home. We’ll disguise them as footmen.”

“What are you wantin’ with a ’alf-dozen armed Runner footmen?”

She gave the pirate butler a disgruntled look. “They’re not for me, Crouch, they are for his lordship. For protection. Noble is in danger, and since I have been forbidden to leave the house, you must be my legs and see to all the arrangements.”