“Oh, please.” Sheffield gave a theatrical wince. “I’m trying to relieve the ache in my head, not slam a spike through my skull.” After crossing his legs and staring moodily at the tips of his boots, he added, “Is there really nothing?”
Wrexford set aside his pen. “Nothing overly useful. The assistant, Hillhouse, contrived to be absent from our arranged interview, so I’ve yet to have a word with him. However, Mrs. Sloane was engaged to meet with both him and Miss Merton earlier this afternoon. So perhaps she will have learned something meaningful.” Though in truth, he was beginning to fear that the case was tangled in so many knots that it might never be unraveled.
Sheffield straightened. “I swear, there are times when her powers to conjure information out of thin air is rather frightening. How the devil did she bring about that connection?”
“In this case, the answer is far more mundane than magic. They have a mutual friend, who has arranged the meeting.”
“Who?”
“A friend from her youth, who apparently attended university with Hillhouse.”
“What sort of friend?” pressed Sheffield.
The question only exacerbated Wrexford’s simmering frustration. “If you are so bloody curious, ask her yourself,” he snapped. “Perhaps, for once, you’ll get lucky.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them. “My apologies, Kit. That was a rotten thing to say.”
“Aye, it was.” Sheffield, however, didn’t look offended. “But no less deserved. I make a mull of many things.” He gave a wry grimace. “Though you have to admit, I do seem to have some skill in helping you ferret out dastardly villains.”
“That you do.” Wrexford was grateful for the show of good-humored camaraderie. For all his faults, Sheffield was a loyal friend. And he knew that his own mercurial moods were not easy to tolerate.
“I shall take that as permission to pour myself a glass of your excellent brandy,” murmured Sheffield.
As he watched his friend saunter to the sideboard, an idea occurred to him. A way not only to make amends, but also to pursue an idea that had slowly, unwillingly been taking shape in his head. “You know, now that you mention villains, perhaps thereissomething you can do to help.”
Sheffield paused, decanter in hand.
“You recall the donkey’s arse we encountered at the gaming hell—Kirkland?”
A nod.
“I thought nothing of it—a mere chance encounter—until I met him again at Mrs. Ashton’s temporary residence here in London. It turns out he’s the son of her late husband’s primary investor.” Wrexford went on to explain about the viscount’s unexpected appearance, and the widow’s reaction to his presence.
“It wouldn’t surprise me if Kirkland is involved in something havey-cavey,” said Sheffield, once the earl had finished. He set the brandy back on the tray. “Word is, he’s become badly dipped lately and is desperate to find the funds to pay off his debts—not only his gambling vowels but also his loans from the cent-per-cent men.”
“He’s had dealings with moneylenders?” Wrexford frowned. A desperate sign, indeed. They charged exorbitant interest, up to one hundred percent on a loan, and failure to come up with the blunt at the appointed time had very unpleasant consequences. Unlike their clients, the cent-per-centers made no pretense of being gentlemen.
“And yet,” he mused, “the viscount’s father is extremely wealthy.”
“Kirkland is extremely profligate with his money,” answered Sheffield dryly. “I assumed he was being given unlimited funds for his carousing. But perhaps his pater has tired of refilling the coffers.”
“One has to assume Kirkland knew about Ashton, and the success of his previous inventions,” said the earl. “And if he was aware of the new project, he would likely know the value of a patent.”
“The viscount isn’t stupid, merely reckless,” observed his friend. “And his father has become a very wealthy man through making savvy investments in business ventures. I seem to recall he’s part-owner in a number of highly profitable coal mines in Wales.”
“So, Kirkland, of all people, understands the potential of metal and steam to generate money,” interjected Wrexford.
“Yes,” said Sheffield, warming to the subject. “But even assuming he was clever enough to come up with a plot to steal Ashton’s invention, it seems to me he would need to partner with someone who possessed technical expertise. Wouldn’t it stir suspicions if he were to claim such an innovation on his own?”
A good point. But like a spider spinning and spinning, the conversation was starting to weave a tantalizing web of connections.
“It would,” agreed Wrexford. “However, as Kirkland has grown up amidst talk of business dealings, he’d be aware of that.” Steepling his fingers, he paused to think back on what he knew about some of the earlier steam engine patents. “Let’s take a moment to follow this thread. Ashton’s idea for financing his work wasn’t new. There’s a precedent for an inventor forming a partnership with investors in order to fund the actual manufacture of the machinery. The genius of James Watt and his innovation in steam power might never have seen the lightof day had not he forged an alliance with Boulton, who had the money to make the concept a profitable reality. Watt and Boulton steam engines have dominated the mining and textile manufacturing industries for nearly half a century. A radically different model which offers a whole new level of performance would revolutionize production.”
“And who could afford not to buy one?” said Sheffield, finishing the earl’s thought.
“As we’ve said, the key to the plan is having someone who’s knowledgeable in the technology, not only to be a credible applicant but also to build a working model that proves the idea is not just hot air.” Wrexford paused. “And what more perfect person than Hillhouse?”
“Science is a popular topic of conversation these days,” he went on. “The talk has sparked an awareness of how scientific discoveries will shape the future. If Kirkland could convince some rich acquaintances that he had a friend who had created a revolutionary new engine, it’s reasonable to think he and Hillhouse could form a powerful, well-funded consortium. That in turn would allow him to cut more favorable terms with the cent-per-centers.”
