"There is no evidence—I mean, not really." He sidled farther away from the approaching Runners. "It was all part of Uncle's plan to get you here to England."
Thea blinked at the desperate sincerity in his voice. Emerson should write Penny Press novels, his lies were so convincing.
Thea forced aside her desire to believe Emerson. "Uncle Ashby would never condone someone trying to kill me."
Emerson's fear became a palpable thing. "Kill you? What are you talking about?"
"You da
mn bloody well know what she's talking about." Drake stepped to the right, cutting off any hope of escape for Emerson in that direction.
"They know about the man you hired to go to the island office and spy on Mrs. Drake." Barton's voice came from behind Thea.
Confusion showed on Emerson's rounded features. "What man? I hired no man."
"It's no use denying it, sir. I've told them everything."
"How could you have discovered Uncle Ashby's plans? Did you read my letters?" Emerson did not sound in the least bit guilty; he seemed more outraged than anything else. "I thought they appeared as if they had been read, but the wax seal was not broken."
"I won't lie for you, sir. Mr. and Mrs. Drake know the truth already. You've been stealing from the company."
"Yes, of course I've been stealing. Well, not stealing really, but temporarily storing company goods in an alternate location. Uncle's plan would not have worked otherwise."
Thea stared at him. He was mad. He belonged in Bedlam. He talked of his perfidy as if it were something Uncle Ashby would wholly approve of. Perhaps he deserved their pity, but insane or not, he had hired someone to kill her. She turned from him, not wanting to look at him any longer.
"Please. Take him away."
"No. You must listen to me. I have proof of what I claim. I assure you."
"Wait." Drake's voice rang with authority.
They stopped their cautious approach to Emerson.
"Explain this plan of your uncle's to me."
Barton shifted beside her, and she caught a look of consternation on his face before the blond man's features went blank once again. Her attention returned to Emerson as he began to speak.
He moved back to stand behind his desk.
"Uncle Ashby wrote me several months ago asking for my help in a plan to get Miss Selwyn, I mean Mrs. Drake, to come to England. I have his letters here as proof." He knelt on the floor beside the desk and unlocked the bottom drawer. He riffled through the papers and then riffled some more. Finally, he stopped and looked up at Thea, his expression ashen. "The letters are gone."
Thea's anger broke free. "Of course they are not there. Uncle Ashby would never have condoned your actions. What a faraddidle." She turned to Drake. "Must we listen to this?"
To her surprise, her husband nodded. "Yes, I think we must." He turned to the Bow Street Runners. "Stand by the door, please."
That brought a strangled sound from behind her, and suddenly her arm was in a painful grip as cold metal pressed against the side of her neck. She registered the look of terrified rage on Drake's face at the same time as she realized the hand holding her so bruisingly belonged to Barton.
"I won't be staying around to hear the explanations, if you please. Mrs. Drake and I are going to take a little trip." He started dragging Thea backward, the barrel of the gun pressed hard into the flesh of her neck. "If anyone attempts to follow us, I'll shoot her."
Drake took a menacing step forward. "What good is she to you dead?"
"I don't have to kill her," Barton replied in a voice that made shivers of dread chase down her spine. Her husband stopped moving.
"Everyone, over behind the desk." When Hansen didn't move fast enough to suit him, Barton barked, "Now."
Soon all the men were behind the desk, effectively putting a barrier between themselves and Thea and her captor. Breath sawed into her lungs as she tried to think of how to get out of her predicament. But the feel of the gun barrel and the stench of Barton's fear made it difficult to concentrate.
Frightened men did unpredictable things. She'd seen that often enough on her island.