“And the courts have done nothing?” Tommy exclaimed. “Can an heir apparent claim ‘right of privilege’ to exempt himself from the law even before he’s inherited his title?”
“There’s no murder without a body and no crime without evidence,”Graham explained. “All we have are unsubstantiated rumors. The truth is, he’s lord of a large-enough sector of society that someone hoping to get on his good side might have acted without Reddington explicitly making the request. In any case, that’s all old news.”
“What’s Reddington done now?” Philippa asked.
“He intends to host a mock battle of Waterloo.”
Elizabeth stabbed a fork in her eggs. “Which is a battle he and his soldiers did not fight, in a country they’ve likely not been to. Or will they all be traveling to the Netherlands to put on the performance?”
Graham shook his head. “It’ll be in Dorset, one hundred and forty miles southwest of London. Presumably at his vast country estate. For the first time, however, Reddington announced he’ll be selling tickets.”
Kuni’s eyebrows shot up almost as high as her long black braids. She reached for the paper. “Charging admission, as though to a play?”
“Itisa play,” Elizabeth grumbled. “And for those who haven’t noticed, women act in plays all the time. At least, they do when men let them. I hope no one buys a single ticket.”
“I hope he trips and falls on his bayonet,” said Jacob. “Reddington’s family money comes from plantations in the West Indies. He’s never worked a day in his life or earned any of his privilege. Yet he’s treated as a god because he has a title.”
“Never working a day in one’s lifeisthe dream, for mothers like mine who despair of their daughters marrying well,” Philippa said.
“Reddington does put in considerable effort,” Elizabeth admitted. “I may have witnessed him lead his troops through practice drills on a few occasions. Though the training would have gone more smoothly if he’d taken my advice. I swear, that’s the last time I prepare an unsolicited two-hour strategy lecture for a faux war general.”
“Youspoke to Reddington?” Graham put down his newspaper. Rarely did any event occur in London without his knowledge. Thefact that Elizabeth had successfully kept a secret caused his eyes to boggle. “When did you meet—”
“Pardon the interruption.” Their butler, Mr. Randall, had appeared in the dining room doorway. “You’ve a guest.” He held up a calling card. “Shall I show Miss Oak into the usual parlor?”
“Gracious, that’s the third new client this week.” Chloe looked up from her slobbering devil-child and exchanged exhausted glances with Faircliffe. “We’ve barely a moment to eat or sleep.”
“I’ll attend to the caller.” Elizabeth leapt up. “Perhaps she needs an assassin-for-hire.”
All of her siblings scrambled to their feet.
“Don’t you dare greet the new client alone,” Graham warned her.
“Or offer to murder anyone for money,” Jacob added.
“Maybe she’ll suggest it first,” Elizabeth said eagerly. “I have room in my schedule to poke holes in a villain or two.”
Swiftly, she and the others relocated to the front parlor, where their new caller awaited.
Miss Oak was an older woman with graying locks. She appeared slightly overwhelmed at the sight of ten-and-a-half Wynchesters streaming through the door. But the parlor was large enough to accommodate everyone. In no time, the introductions were completed and the Wynchesters were seated with their prospective client.
Elizabeth took the chair as far as possible from Chloe and her baby.
“I am in desperate need of your help,” said Miss Oak. “There is no legal recourse I can take to right this wrong, and I’ve nowhere else to turn.”
Elizabeth was unsurprised. Virtually all their clients’ stories began with that same lament.
“Please,” said Graham. “How may we assist you?”
Miss Oak gazed at them beseechingly. “Castle Harbrook is family land. My sister and I spent the past ten years planning to turn theproperty into an orphanage and school for the indigent. That castle is mine by rights, but my nephew, the Earl of Densmore, refuses to vacate the property or hand over the deed!”
Elizabeth bared her teeth in disgust at the heartless nephew.
The entire Wynchester clan held orphanages in the highest regard. Not only were most of the original Wynchester siblings orphans themselves, but also Chloe and Tommy had first met in an orphanage. Providing shelter to innocent children was a far worthier pursuit than whatever the Earl of Densmore intended to do with his appropriated castle.
“Whilst I sympathize greatly,” said Chloe’s husband, the Duke of Faircliffe, “property disputes are generally the domain of the courts and not something the Wynchester family can settle by hand. Have you considered hiring a lawyer?”
“I’ve considered everything. The lawyer is on my side, but can do nothing.” Miss Oak rubbed her wan face. “The situation is not as simple as I’ve made it sound.”
