“I want her to work for me.”
“Why?” Aidan demanded. “The war is over.”
“On other shores, yes, but we have a rising risk within our own country, gentlemen, from dissidents, those who would do violence to achieve their ends. Our great country has become a leader in new inventions, inventions others are afraid of, so they lash out to stop it and all who support it. They don’t want the world, or their corner of it, to change. They foment rebellion. And gentlemen, consider—we don’t want anything like the French revolution on English soil.”
“So, what is your intention?” Aidan asked. “You retired from government service last year.”
“I, with some like-minded peers, am creating a private organization to investigate and root out these rebels.”
“You are taking the King's law, and the responsibilities of the magistrates and barristers, and the courts of assize, into your own hands,” Mr. Martin said.
“They cannot operate with the speed and agility we can!” he explained, growing excited, his eyes shining with the light of a fanatic, little different from those he would expose and destroy.
“I see,” said Aidan levelly. “Do not count Lady Blessingame as part of your coterie. It should be clear to you she wants nothing more to do with spying.”
Candelstone waved his hand dismissively. “Missish nonsense. She’ll come around.”
“Leave her alone.”
“Or what?” Candelstone asked, bored with the conversation.
“Or Lady Malmsby will have her way.”
Candelstone laugh crudely. “Faugh. For years, she has been threatening me with that. She loves Catherine too much. She was always her favorite, you know.”
“William!” protested his wife. She scurried over to the side of the bed. “You shouldn’t say such things!”
Candelstone turned to look at his wife. “Don’t worry, my pet,” he gently assured her. “She’ll never do it, and at her age, I don’t believe she has the connections to do so, either.”
He looked back at Aidan and sneered. “Now go away, Mr. Gallery Owner, you and your posturing robin red-breast. My people will take care of this matter.”
“You are a fool, Candelstone,” Aidan said.
Candelstone laughed and shooed them away.
Aidan and Mr. Martin exchanged glances and left the room.
“He is certainly a man of many parts,” Mr. Martin said quietly, as the door closed behind them. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not certain. My concern right now is to learn who was the intended victim, family, or guest.”
“What about Lady Blessingame?”
“What about her?” Aidan asked crossly. He didn’t want to think about her yet—to do so would force him to face his shame in believing Harry’s lies.
Mr. Martin grabbed his arm, stopping him. “Courage,” he said. Then he dropped his hand and continued down the hall.
Aidan stood for a moment, then he joined Mr. Martin as he walked down the main staircase.
He saw Mr. Harold, the butler, come from the servants' wing. “Mr. Harold, do you know where the Duchess and Lady Blessingame might be found?”
“Her grace is meeting with the housekeeper. I have not seen Lady Blessingame.”
“I saw her go into the Lady Margaret Parlor,” offered the footman by the door.
“I’ll take you to the Duchess’s secretary for a copy of that guest list,” Aidan told Mr. Martin. He looked down the hall. “Then I shall see about mustering that courage you spoke of.”
CHAPTER9
