“I’m afraid she’ll have to tolerate that.”

“I don’t think you heard me.” Phoebe’s voice was cold and clear as ice water. “We will not be part of this vile and sordid business. I don’t know what you were to my father, Mr. Knowle—”

“His loyal lieutenant, Lady Waring. I did as he bid me. Would you like to know the things he ordered me to do?”

“No, though I dare say you’ll tell me anyway because you’re a quite revolting person.”

“Shut up,” Knowle said, anger thrumming through his usually toneless voice. “Shut up, you bloody arrogant bitch. You think you can give orders, and sneer, and expect your bidding done? I’ve had enough of pandering to whims and demands. I’m the master here now. And you’ll do as you’re told.”

Phoebe had gone very white. Maisie looked at her, drew in a breath, and said, “Are you really going do this, Lord Flitby? Take two women hostage and help a criminal escape?”

Flitby’s face looked like raw veal, pallid and bloodless. Chingford turned towards him, gun in hand. Not quite pointing it at him, but not holding it away, either. “You agreed, Father. We agreed. It’s for the best.”

“There is no choice.” Flitby didn’t sound like he believed himself. “Once this man has gone—”

“You’ll have abetted the escape of a multiple murderer,” Kim said. “This is conspiracy, sir. You are breaking the law.”

“And what is this?” Flitby jerked up his arm, raising White Stains in a motion that made Will think of a puppet.

Kim’s mouth set. “My responsibility and I’ll take the consequences. Don’t pretend you’re protecting me.”

“Shut up,” Chingford said. “I’ve decided. We’re all going.”

“I wasn’t aware you were head of the family.”

Chingford’s mouth moved. It was a tiny flash of an expression, too fast for Will to read, but Kim sucked in a breath. “What are you doing, Chingford?”

“Shut up. You come or we shoot you here and now. I’m not going to hang on your account.”

“We have to go soon, to catch the tide and as much light as we can,” the Marquess said. “The Aurora has ladies’ accommodation, Lady Waring. It is a day, nothing more.”

“It is a day I do not consent to give you,” Phoebe said. “Are you going to force me?”

“Yes,” Knowle said. “We have guns, Lady Waring, and you do not, and that is the end of the matter. Get up, all of you.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

The Marquess owned two touring cars. Kim drove one, with Maisie and Phoebe in the back, and Knowle beside him, holding the gun to his head. Anton drove the other. Flitby had the front seat; Chingford sat in the back with his revolver digging into Will’s ribs.