Page 51 of A Game of Scandal

The carriage came to a wavering, silent stop. Mrs Finch met my eye and nodded, and I was sure I caught a twinkle of excitement. But then the door opened and we all melted out into the darkness. I kept my eyes on Sylla, following close behind her in the direction that had been agreed.

At some signal from Izzy, Sylla came to a stop, and so did I, heart pounding. I pulled my coat tighter around myself, trying to blend into the shadows thrown down by the buildings looming over us. It was the early hours of the morning, so the place was deserted. The area we were in was one that housed several warehouses and factories, larger buildings, utilitarian and unloved. Here, near the docks, we were far from the glamour and elegance of the London that I knew. The warehouse that Laing had purchased, the one we were breaking into, was an older building that showed signs of serious neglect. Several of the windows were boarded up, and I could see no sign of light or movement inside.

We stood, still and silent, for what felt like hours, before there was a sound in the darkness. The soft, repetitive twitter of a goldfinch.

“Let’s go,” Izzy whispered, and I realized Mrs Finch had done her job.

We approached the side door to the building and Izzy let out a low whistle. “You don’t put this kind of lock on a building like this one unless you’re hiding something big.”

“Can you pick it?” I asked.

Beside me, Sylla snorted and Izzy smiled. “Don’t worry about that.”

Izzy turned her attention to the lock, and the sound of another bird call reached my ears. Sylla’s head snapped up.

“Sounds like Maud’s flirting didn’t work,” she said. “That’s two men who’ll be waking with a serious headache.”

With an audible click, the lock gave beneath Izzy’s clever fingers, and she pushed the door open.

Sylla smirked. “Slow.”

“I’d like to see you do it faster,” Izzy huffed, before giving a reluctant smile. “But, yes, it was slow for me. I’m out of practice.”

“Duchesses don’t get much time for lockpicking,” I said comfortingly.

“This duchess will have to.” Izzy pushed her shoulders back. “Right, are we ready? Maud said there was no sign of men being posted inside, but we should be prepared.”

In response, Sylla pulled a small pearl-handled pistol from her pocket. “It may be tiny,” she said, “but looks can be deceiving. It’ll do plenty of damage.”

“Do I get one of those?” I asked.

Sylla looked down her nose at me. “As you’d be more likely to shoot yourself in the foot, or one of us, it would be more trouble than it’s worth.”

“I happen to be an excellent shot,” I returned. “Max taught me to handle a gun at a worryingly young age. Mother was outraged. I have excellent reflexes too.”

Izzy nodded. “It’s true,” she said. “I’ve seen her hit a target from fifty yards.”

“In that case, take it.” Sylla sighed, handing me the gun. “Goodness knows your hand-to-hand combat skills are abysmal.”

“Hey!” I protested. “Maud said I showed great improvement.”

“A polite way of saying abysmal.”

“We should hurry,” Izzy said, glancing over her shoulder.

Without any further conversation, the three of us crept through the open door. My eyes had grown used to the darkness outside, but it still took me a moment to get my bearings. There were no lights burning inside the vast space of the warehouse.

Izzy pulled a couple of stubby wax candles from her pocket and Sylla lit them with a match. The pool of light they cast was small and dim, but I still worried that it would be noticeable from the outside if it was seen moving around. On the other hand, we could hardly do much investigating in the dark. It was a risk we’d have to take.

The warehouse was a mostly empty cavernous space, with a high ceiling and a shallow platform running round the top half of the building. I could see bulky piles arranged to the side, as though objects had been simply heaped into corners – bits of old factory equipment, I thought. There were several large crates stacked against one wall.

“We’re not getting inside those without a crowbar,” Sylla murmured.

“One of them is open,” Izzy whispered from the corner. “It’s like Maud said, it’s full of scientific equipment.”

I made my way over to where she was standing and peered inside the box, spying several glass beakers used in the distillation process. “Nothing specific,” I said. “Just a lot of glass.”

“There’s some sort of workstation in here.” Sylla’s voice came from further inside the dank space.