The River Knows by Amanda Quick Page A

his talents. He was, according to Victoria, one of the most handsome men in London. Certainly the innocent young women he had seduced had thought so.
    Thurlow, however, was also a devout gambler. That was what had made him so useful, of course. He was regularly in need of money to clear his debts. But Victoria had never entirely trusted him. “A gambler’s first loyalty is to the next game of cards,” she had said.
    Another uneasy thought arose. Thurlow knew about Grantley. Damnation, maybe it was Thurlow who had murdered Grantley. That appalling possibility sent another jolt of fear through him. Had Thurlow decided to go into the extortion business himself? Perhaps he had started out by getting rid of the middleman—Grantley—and then helped himself to the items in the safe, items that Thurlow, himself, had originally stolen from the young ladies. It seemed highly unlikely that Thurlow was skilled in the art of safecracking, but perhaps it was not altogether impossible. That still left the question of Stalbridge’s role in the affair.
    Elwin began to feel as if he were sinking into quicksand. It was all so damned complicated.
    He swung around to face Quinby and Royce. “Here is the plan. First, you will both make certain that Stalbridge does not come anywhere near me or this house again. Is that understood?”
    “Yes, sir,” Royce said dutifully.
    Quinby shrugged.
    Elwin hesitated. He desperately wanted to order the guards to kill Stalbridge and Thurlow as well, just to be safe, but that was not possible; they were Corvus’s men. The crime lord was unlikely to agree to allow members of his organization to be used to murder two gentlemen.
    Corvus was not overly troubled by scruples, but killing two respectable men, one of whom moved in Society, would be a dangerous business for a man in his position. That sort of violence would attract Scotland Yard’s attention. Corvus had no reason to take that risk.
    “Second,” Elwin said, “I want to employ someone to keep a watch on a man named Thurlow, who lives in Halsey Street. I assume one of you is acquainted with the sort of person who can be hired to perform such a task?”
    Quinby shrugged again.
    Royce cleared his throat. “There’s a man named Slip, who might be interested in that type of employment.”

Chapter 9
    S hortly before two o’clock that afternoon brass clanged on brass with precision and absolute authority. Someone was on the doorstep, demanding and expecting admittance.
    Louisa felt her pulse leap. She tried in vain to suppress the quickening of her senses and the tingle of excitement that made her stomach flutter. Concentrate on the business at hand. Do not allow yourself to be distracted.
    Mrs. Galt hurried past the open door of the study, wiping her hands on her apron.
    Emma appeared in the doorway. She was dressed in the old gown she used when she worked in the conservatory. Anticipation lit her eyes.
    “I expect that will be your Mr. Stalbridge,” she said.
    “He is not my Mr. Stalbridge.” Louisa put down her pen in a very deliberate way, trying to appear cool and composed. “But, yes, I imagine that will be him. He did say he would call this afternoon to collect his fee.”
    Emma gave a small ladylike snort of amusement. “As if a Stalbridge needs your money. I doubt very much that is why he is here.”
    The front door opened. A low, masculine voice emanated from the front hall. Louisa felt a shivery little thrill stir the fine hairs on the nape of her neck. Calm yourself. This is a business arrangement, not a love affair.
    A moment later Mrs. Galt appeared, looking suitably impressed and not a little curious.
    “There’s a Mr. Stalbridge here to see you, Mrs. Bryce,” she said. “Says he’s expected.”
    Mrs. Galt had every reason to be interested, Louisa thought. Until now the only regular gentleman caller at Number Twelve Arden Square was Mr. Rossmarten, Emma’s sixty-five-year-old admirer from the Garden Society. The two