“Bulwark is the butler?” Jasper confirmed, and Dudley nodded. “Does he ever complain, or speak of his opinion of the duke?”
Dudley winced and then turned his head. “He’s not well-liked, my lord.”
This came as no surprise.
Jasper pretended to study a painting of one of his ancestors hanging on the wall. “Do you believe Lady Gardenia is in danger?” A tingling pricked between his shoulders. This was where that guilt was coming from. No honorable gentleman would knowingly send a lady into harm’s way.
“It’s possible.” Dudley cleared his throat. “He’s been known to strike servants who… disappoint him.”
Which meant the fiend might very well treat his own daughter similarly. He had suspected as much.
Damn his eyes.
“Anything else?”
“His estates, which had been in arrears for decades, are suddenly flush. The silver his father sold off has all been replaced.” Dudley stared at the floor, a deep frown creasing his forehead. “And they are never short on tea.”
Jasper paused, processing the unexpected information.
The duke could very well be involved in the opium trade. This sort of nasty business, which was proving to be extremely lucrative, was becoming all too common. Crossings no doubt grew poppy in India, and rather than pay China with silver, he traded opium for it. Which was not only diabolical, but criminal.
Unfortunately, although the practice had been deemed illegal by China, it was encouraged by the East India Company. And the East India Company worked with the unofficial approval of the British monarch.
And that kind of wealth placed tremendous power in the hands of those willing to undertake the endeavor. He had seen this before. Such men believed themselves above the law.
Like the Duke of Crossings.
And the Duke of Dewberry.
Dash it all. Jasper’s interference in Lady Gardenia’s affairs wasn’t yet over. “Have Bard saddled, will you? I’ve the sudden urge for a jaunt down Park Place.”
“Of course.” Dudley disappeared and Jasper retrieved his own hat and gloves.
“My lord.” Mrs. Charles’ voice caught him as he strolled toward the back entrance. “Mary brought these to me just now. Lady—er—Miss Smith left these hairpins behind.” She held out her hand. Tiny gold pins with diamonds for decoration. Worth a year’s wages to the chambermaid.
Jasper nodded. He paid his employees well, and this was the type of behavior he expected in return. “Add an additional pound to her month's wages,” Jasper ordered.
“You wish me to double her normal pay?” Mrs. Charles’ brows lifted.
“Make it two pounds. As a bonus.”
The housekeeper nodded. “Yes, my lord.”
Those pins would be particularly useful, providing him with the perfect excuse to stop in at Crossings’ Place.
“My thanks, Mrs. Charles.” He tucked the pins into a pocket along with the note for Malum. They were lovely jewels, indeed, but to Lady Gardenia, they’d seemed like torture devices. Sparkling diamonds on one end, sharp points on the other used to stab a lady’s coiffure into place. Shaking his head, he dismissed the image and exited to find Bard waiting for him. At twenty hands high, Bard wasn’t the usual sort of horse seen in Mayfair. Jasper couldn’t resist acquiring the magnificent mount when he’d first laid eyes on him. As a bay Shire, his ancestors, who’d served to carry knights in full regalia, were documented as far back as the Middle Ages.
Sliding his left foot into the stirrup, he swung himself up and, with a subtle touch of the reins, was on his way to Crossings’ townhouse—more of a manor, really. One of the largest in Mayfair.
He didn’t have far to go, so in less than five minutes, he dismounted and loosely looped the reins over a convenient post and approached the ducal residence. Crossings’ Place stood four stories high, and the tall double-doored entrance had been designed to intimidate.
Appearances.
Jasper knew all too well how this worked. Not hesitating, he pounded the knocker three times, and the door was opened almost immediately by a man who reminded him of the duke himself. Beefy, thick.
Mean.
This would be Mr. Bulwark.
