Gwinnie nodded. “She wrote to me as well.”
Lakehurst scratched his head, frowning. Ellinbourne looked interested, but otherwise was as clueless as he was.
The Duchess nodded. “Lady Norwalk has built a fortune investing in new technology she believes will be profitable,” his grandmother explained. “Several years ago, she discovered younger sons of peers who were curious about the potential for these inventions. They did not have the funds to invest; however, they did have the energy and drive to make the new technology successful.”
“And they had the idle time,” Ann said.
“Lady Norwalk trains them in evaluating new inventions for her, for which she pays them. If the discovery is profitable, they get a share of the profits that she encourages them to invest back into the technology. She also pairs these young men into trades that could use their intelligence, drive, and connections,” the Duchess continued.
“Breaking the barriers between the classes,” Gwinnie said, “which I heartily approve.”
Lakehurst grinned at his twin. “Do you even know what a class is?” he teased.
She considered that. “Not really,” she said, her lips compressing into a tight line as she shook her head.
Mr. Martin laughed.
The Duchess took a sip of her brandy. “Since she rarely comes to London, she has made the ground floor of her London townhouse into a club where these young men can meet, dine, and exchange information.”
“I have found the club to be a fount of intelligence for how our economy really runs, and who are the true power brokers.” Mr. Martin said.
“And it is not the aristocracy,” the Duke of Ellinbourne concluded.
Mr. Martin smiled slightly.
CHAPTEREIGHT
London Mayhem
Alight tapping on her bedroom door roused Cassandra from sleep. She stretched one arm above her head as she looked about her. She realized she’d not closed the bed curtains the night before. In the faint morning light coming from around the edges of the bedroom drapes, she saw the bedroom door opened silently.
“Excuse me, my lady,” Agnes whispered. “Are you awake?”
“Yes, come in.” Cassandra pushed herself to a sitting position. “What time is it?” she asked, yawning.
“Just going on six, m’lady. This come fer ya. Lad said it were important.” She held out a folded letter in her hand as she crossed to the canopied bed.
Cassandra threw her covers off and slid out of her bed, grabbing her wrapper draped over the end of the bed. She quickly slipped on the pale green slubbed fabric garment over her white cotton and lace night rail. She took the letter from Agnes.
“I’ll get you a light,” Agnes said, turning to a table at the side of the bed for a tinderbox. She got a flame going and lit a candle, then walked around the bed to open the drapes to let in a little more light.
“Thank you, Agnes,” Cassandra said absently as she broke the seal on the letter and opened it.
Satan’s Bride,
It does not matter where you are or who you are with.
My lord and master will complete his mark and claim you.
Nothing and no one can protect you.
Satan hungers for you.
Cassandra gasped.Her right hand touched the scar on her left shoulder, the beginning of the devil’s sigil that would call him forth, she’d been told.
“Is everythin’ all right, my lady?” Agnes asked.
Cassandra crushed the letter in her hand. “Someone is trying frighten me.”
