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sentenced to hang? That you are being held responsible by the Crown for last week’s events?” He put pressure on the blade. “Lucky I got to you first,” he whispered.
    The man gave a choked sound, eyes wide.
    “All debts will be wiped free.” Words spilled like the trickle of blood down his neck. “Everyone starting fresh.”
    Andreas watched the way the man tried to hide the shaking of his limbs, the cold sweat dripping down his face from the pain of his wrist and his fear. “You want the Collateral Exchange burned, hmmm?”
    “It is evil . It preys on vulnerable, desperate people.”
    Personal feeling. Andreas examined the hilt of the man’s sword before the link slotted into place. “You are Barton’s fourth son, who lost forty thousand last year.”
    The man’s eyes widened. Andreas gave a cold laugh. “Of course you would want the Exchange burned.”
    He rarely played with the ton . That was Roman’s game. But he had met the senior Barton once when Roman had called him over in the middle of a hand. And Andreas knew everyone, down to their last groat, on paper.
    “Forty thousand, seven hundred and forty-two, with seven darlings to spare, as of last week, wasn’t it?” Andreas said, almost lazily. “Gregory Daniels forgave you the two markers for fifteen pounds, twelve pence though. I wouldn’t have. That was a stupid bet to make on O’Leary’s daughter.”
    “How—”
    Andreas leaned forward, tip pressing and drawing more blood. “I want to know where Cornelius is,” he said harshly.
    The man usually stayed holed up in the north, where he held power, but he had been expanding his territory, creeping south more and more over the past year. Trying to make deals and sway those in the middle to his side. Making a play for a piece of the capital. London was the jewel of England, and the Merricks had held that jewel tightly and completely without challenge for the last decade.
    Cornelius had smartly latched upon Viscount Garrett as a pawn. Which meant that he knew something of Andreas’s past.
    “I don’t know.” The man’s words came faster, as if by doing so it would wipe out the rest of the conversation. “Our revolution’s glorious beginnings will help all.” But the desperation was leaking from his lips like the drops of sweat from his chin.
    Raised in the lap of luxury, likely with two nursemaids to wait upon him. Andreas watched him coldly. “Strange how one always wants to destroy for others that which he has taken for granted and destroyed himself.”
    “I have seen the glorious light.”
    “Doubtful.”
    “Debt is evil. You are evil.”
    Andreas pricked the other side of his neck, causing a line of warm liquid to course there as well. “And Cornelius is the Redeemer,” he said silkily. “He will burn off the sins of everything foul. He will return you to a life filled with golden light.”
    “ Yes. ”
    “Don’t you know it is foolish to trust in angels?” Andreas smiled. “He will pretend to burn the papers, then kill the lot of you and take over the Exchange himself.”
    “No—”
    Andreas pressed the tip into the underside of the man’s jawbone. “You are annoying me now. You have five seconds before I tilt the blade and let it slide.”
    “We always meet somewhere different! And never in London! I can help you in other ways. I have information,” he said desperately.
    Of course he did. Should have started right away with this course of action. Phoebe Pace’s bloody penchant for commentary was rubbing off on him and ruining his peace.
    “Do you?”
    “I can tell you schedules and plans and players.”
    He smiled darkly. “Good. Make it quick and concise, for my hand grows weary.” He leaned forward an inch. “And don’t lie.”
    “I won’t. I know what happened to Christian Pace too,” the fourth spawn of Barton babbled almost incoherently.
    Andreas froze but kept the blade steady. “Do you now?” He shifted and scanned the alley, looking for a pair