The Emperor's Conspiracy by Michelle Diener

involved in this plot must be noblemen. If they caught wind ofmy men’s questions, they could well have paid this thug to get rid of them. That would have been a neat solution.”
    The lies tripped off his tongue, and he felt no regret now in speaking them. Luke had killed his men because of their interest in Charlotte, but Dervish would never discover that. Just how nervous would Dervish get if he thought Edward was getting too close?
    Dervish closed his eyes for a moment, his face suddenly haggard.
    Blackmail, Edward decided. If it were bribery, he’d look guilty, perhaps. As it was, he looked genuinely stricken.
    “Customs caught another boat full of gold a few days ago. I just heard the news this morning. Twenty thousand guineas found on it. Twenty thousand! Hidden in the cabin ceiling, in hollowed-out pigs of iron ballast. The smack was too low on the water; that’s how they caught them.” Without opening his eyes, Dervish rubbed at his temples. “They think for every boat they find, at least ten are slipping past them. Ten.” He lifted his head and snapped open his eyes, and they looked wild.
    “So we really are hemorrhaging gold?”
    Dervish nodded. “And I don’t know why, dammit. Yes, they can get more for the gold in Europe than they can here, but it’s a punishable crime taking guineas out the country as it is, so they risk jail, not to mention taking it through France while we’re at war with that country, and the bribes they’d have to pay, the risk of having it confiscated or stolen …” He shook his head. “It doesn’t make sense.”
    “It’s worse than that.” Edward thought of the facts and figureslying on his desk, of all the information he’d gathered already. “But I haven’t worked it all out just yet.” And he wouldn’t be telling Dervish when he did.
    Dervish pinched the bridge of his nose. “Edward, I …” He gave himself a shake. “Nothing. Just, be careful. Keep your focus on finding who in England’s behind this gold smuggling. Don’t take on this man from the rookeries.”
    Edward gave Dervish a nod of farewell. “I’m afraid it’s too late for that. The Tothill Road man has already decided to take on me.”
    The look of horror on Dervish’s face as he walked out gave him no satisfaction at all.

    S omeone was watching them. Charlotte sensed it. She’d spent too long in the rookeries not to trust the prick between her shoulder blades.
    She turned, casually, as if to keep track of the Holliday boys running with their hoops and sticks across the lush grass of the park, lifting her hand to shield her eyes.
    She saw nothing but the fine houses of their little square, and the trees and bushes that surrounded the small park in the center of it.
    “What is it?” Emma asked, and as Charlotte swung back to her, she saw her face was tight with worry, her eyes never leaving the boys.
    “I think we’re being watched.” She would not lie to her friend.
    Emma jerked her gaze to Charlotte’s face. “You saw someone?”
    Charlotte shook her head. “Just a feeling. But my feelings are usually right.”
    “A touch of the gypsy?” Emma frowned.
    “A touch of the rookeries. Brings out your senses.” She spun again, slowly and carefully. “You don’t learn to trust what your body tells you, you’re dead.”
    “Yet you never gave it up.” Emma lifted a hand to her own eyes.
    “It wasn’t so much I didn’t give it up as I couldn’t.” Charlotte went still, her eye catching something, but she smoothly turned her head to Emma. “It clung to me.” She gave a laugh. “Like the dust from the chimneys used to do.”
    The wind was coming up, and the boys’ hoops raced ahead of them, Ned’s flying out into the street.
    The sky darkened, and Charlotte lifted her face to the sky as Emma called to Ned to stay out of the road. The clouds that tumbled and boiled over the sun were purple and bruised, and the air that gusted over her was a hot, blowsy tart with drunken