Gil shifted on the sofa, clearly uneasy. “I take responsibility for his appearance in Oxford. I’d given details of my travel plans—first to France, then to here—to the physician on staff when I went to visit Stuart. I thought I was out of his hearing range, but apparently not. When I received the telegram that my brother had escaped, I swear I had no idea he’d come to Price House. The administration assured me they’d most likely find him in one of the opium dens in the Limehouse district—if he hadn’t overdosed himself, that is.”
Edmund laid the knife in his lap, stunned, all his suspicions of the past weeks suddenly making sense.
Mostly.
He angled his head, once again studying Gil’s unbattered face and calm demeanor. “That doesn’t account for this supposed Stuart’s physical appearance.”
Gil shrugged. “Though he is two years my junior, we look uncannily alike. There are only minor differences that no one except my mother would notice—a mole behind my ear, a very slight height differentiation. Stuart’s shoe size is one less than mine.”
“And yet he looked older than you.”
“Addiction to such detrimental vices will do that to a man. Believe me when I say I am sorry you got pulled into this whole sordid affair, Edmund.”
Hmm. Plausible. Could be too plausible, though, yet another story to swindle him in some other way. He eyed his alleged business partner. “If what you’re saying is true, then tell me something only you and I as business partners would know. Something that cannot be fabricated or guessed.”
“Fair enough.” Planting his elbows on the chair’s arms, Gil steepled his fingers beneath his chin—a familiar pose. One Edmund hadn’t witnessed this entire past month. And now that he thought on it, it was odd he’d not seen the gesture for it was a favorite of Gil’s.
“Remember that negotiation with the East India Company a few years back?” Gil tapped his chin with his laced index fingers. “When we had to haggle over the shipment of rare spices for our client, Mr. Hagethorn?”
“Yes.” How could he forget such an infuriating deal?
“You were so frustrated with the delays that you placed a bet on the arrival date with one of your companions in India. A Mr. Gupta, if I recall correctly. I warned you against such a rash wager, and you scolded me for being a mother hen. And you were right. You won a fair amount, and as a consolation for the delay, we gained an extra three ounces of saffron fromthe ship’s captain—off the record, of course, as he’d smuggled it in.”
Edmund sucked in a breath. True, all of it. But still, he would not be so easily deceived. Not again. “Impressive, but Gupta and the captain were both involved in that situation and so could have informed you. What about the incident in Edinburgh the winter before I sailed?”
Gil laughed, his trademark snort cutting off the end—another trait that Edmund realized had been missing with the other Gil.
“Ah yes, we were walking the horses back from a meeting with the textile merchants. Your mount got away from you, and though I tried to help, you ended up a muddied mess. Ruined your trousers and you had to borrow mine. You said you’d never trust a...” He thought for a minute, then grinned at Edmund. “A nip-nappety, scabby-eared horse again.”
Edmund gaped. Not even he’d remembered the exact words he’d bellowed in frustration, but now that Gil reminded him, they rang true. And only Gil would have known such a detail. Plus, not once had he yet called himold manor regaled him with an annoyingha-ha.
Which meant thiswasGil. It had to be.
Edmund leaned forward in his seat, hardly believing how duped he’d been. “It’s really you, then, is it, Gil?”
“It’s really me, my friend.”
“I can scarce believe it.”
“You likely won’t believe this either.” Reaching inside his coat pocket, Gil produced an envelope and handed it over. “It’s the good news I wished to tell you in person.”
Edmund pulled out a folded banknote, then choked when he read the staggering amount. “Where did this come from?”
“Remember that investment you gave me leave to dabble in, the steamship company? The one everyone claimed was fool’s gold?”
He nodded slowly. “I do.”
“Well, that shipping company is now a major force in the industry, landing a lucrative deal for exclusive cargo transportacross the Atlantic. That little banknote is but the first in what I expect to be some rather hefty dividend payments.”
Edmund’s heart skipped a beat. With this much incoming funds not tied up in any other sort of market or investment, Sanjay would have the money he needed. Thank God! He glanced at the ceiling, nearly overcome with the unexpected blessing.
Indeed, thank You, God.
“This couldn’t have come at a better time.” He waved the note in the air. “I ... I don’t know what to say other than thank you and forgive me for ever doubting your identity.”
“Forgiven and forgotten.” Gil grinned. “Shall we celebrate the windfall with a cup of tea?” He tipped his head toward the big tray Barnaby had left unattended by the door.
“We can celebrate more than that, my friend, for I have good news of my own.” Edmund rose, smiling over his shoulder as he strode to the teapot. “I am to wed—and soon.”
