“You made that sign earlier,” she told him. “What does it mean?”
“It’s our way of swearing something all the way to our bones,” Tommy explained. “We will not rest until your cousin is safe at home.”
“Even if I have to put a sword through Leisterdale’s chest myself,” Elizabeth added.
Viv was unsure whether to take Elizabeth’s threat at face value, but she certainly did not intend to stop her. If ever a man deserved a swift trip to hell…
Before anyone else could speak, Mr. Randall walked in with the Faircliffes’ erstwhile butler, Hastings, at his side.
“Oh, thank God,” the duke breathed. “Hastings will have noticed more than boots.”
“Don’t leave yet,” Marjorie called out to Tommy. “I’ll have a few more details in just a moment.”
“Did you see the caller?” Viv blurted out.
The butler glanced at her quizzically. “He stood an arm’s length away from me for several minutes.”
“Can you describe him?” Marjorie asked.
“Late twenties, the build of an equestrian, a pompous air. About this tall”—Hastings gestured just above his own head—“with blue eyes, curling blond hair, and a close-lipped smile.”
“Nose length and width?” Marjorie’s pencil flew over the page. “Any bumps in the bridge, or freckles and birthmarks?”
Even without watching the sketch bloom into sight, Viv recognized every detail Hastings recalled. It was the lordling in the park who had scrubbed off her touch with a white handkerchief.
Just as Marjorie held up the sketch for the room to see, Viv ground out, “Lord Uppington.”
“‘My father might have done it,’” Chloe parroted in a mocking falsetto. “Scoundrel. It was him the whole time.”
“Or both of them,” Viv added.
“Hastings, please take your post back,” said Faircliffe. “We clearly need you.”
“And no one needs Lord Uppington,” Elizabeth said. “I’ll sharpen my sword.”
“Make it two,” Jacob said. “Whether they’re working together or not, the Marquess of Leisterdale groomed his son to follow in his footsteps. Both men wish to rule society from a golden throne, rather than be beholden to those they feel beneath them.”
“Why wasn’t this a priority?” Viv whirled toward Graham in anger. “You said you had spies following Leisterdale’s known associates. Wouldn’t his despicablesoncount?”
“I did have Uppington followed,” Graham protested, then winced.“As much as we could. I told you, we’ve been stretched past our breaking point. Because we’d been checking ships’ manifests for signs of Quentin, I just found out an hour ago that the date of Uppington’s return to England was misquoted in the newspaper. But it is true that since his arrival, he’s spent every moment drinking with his friends, visiting his mistress, and promenading in Hyde Park.”
“Wait. Uppington’s date of return was misprinted by how much?”
Graham handed her a folded missive from his breast pocket. “Two months. He spent that time at a friend’s home in York before coming to London, which is why no one realized he was back.”
“Twomonths?” Viv repeated, staring at the message. “Uppington had plenty of time to write to my column and plot his burglary and blackmail. There was no need to be in London until he was ready to act.”
“It also explains the mistaken identity,” Jacob said. “After living an ocean away for several years, no wonder the earl believed Quentin to be Horace in the first place,” Jacob said. “Uppington wasn’t around when Tommy played the baron, so he wouldn’t know Quentin looks nothing like Horace.”
Graham nodded. “After abducting a hostage, Uppington couldn’t run around asking strange questions about a baron no one else had thought about in years. Given the stakes, he wouldn’t have wanted to look ignorantorsuspicious.”
“Yes, yes, your deductions are brilliant,” Viv burst out. “But now that we know Lord Uppington has Quentin, why are we still standing here? Shouldn’t we be searching his residence?”
“We did so weeks ago. Nothing there. I’ve kept his lodgings under watch, but so far my informants haven’t reported anything amiss. The moment I receive word of the slightest hint of suspicious activity—”
Viv rubbed her temples, then froze. “What about Miss Yates, the best-paid courtesan in London? Did we searchherresidence?”
Graham’s eyes widened.
