In contrast to Pendleton's blustering anger, Ambrose exuded calm and control. Even abed, wearing a loose shirt and a bandage, he possessed far more dignity than the earl. Marianne felt a rush of pride and gratitude that he was on her side. Despite all her mistakes, her efforts to push him away, he'd remained steadfast.
Her heart squeezed. How could she be deserving of such a man?
"Apparently, you have a secret to hide, my lord," Ambrose continued. "You can either talk to us or the magistrates—'tis up to you."
"Are you threatening me, you insolentnobody? By God, I'll have you tossed out on your arse—"
"You had dealings with Reginald Leach. The solicitor kept files on his clients," Ambrose said.
The color drained from Pendleton's face.
"'Tis a matter of time before we discover what Leach did for you." Harteford spoke up, his voice cold. "If you cooperate with us now, your secret can remain in this room. If not..." The marquess did not finish.
He didn't need to.
"You'reblackmailingme?"
"We're giving you a choice," Ambrose corrected. "Whether you wish to keep your activities free from public consumption is up to you."
The earl's checkered waistcoat rose and fell with furious breaths.
"Come, my lord, your secret will be safe with us," Helena said in an impatient tone. "Much safer than, say… with Duchess Castlebaugh? I believe she is a current guest of yours, and no one brews scandal broth like Her Grace does. Why, if she were to catch wind of your possible involvement with Mr. Kent's shooting—"
"Alright! Devil take it, I'll tell you." Pendleton glared at them all. "Though I don't know what my involvement with Leach has to do with catching Coyner."
"Leave that to us to piece together," Ambrose said. "Now your business with the solicitor, my lord?"
Silence tautened in the room. Then Pendleton snarled, "He helped me with transactions related to several properties of mine."
Marianne narrowed her eyes. "What sort of properties?"
"I have holdings in Covent Garden. And north of that," the earl said curtly.
Understanding dawned.
"You bloody hypocrite," Marianne breathed. "You sneer at trade, hold your nose at such high altitudes that it's a wonder it doesn't bleed. And all this time your wealth has come from the lowest of the low. What do you own, my lord? Brothels? Gin shops?" By the earl's florid color, she knew she'd hit the nail on the head. "Why, you're nothing more than a pimp and barkeep."
Pendleton's lips pressed in a mean line.
"And Sir Coyner? What is your relationship to him?" Ambrose said.
With clear reluctance, the earl replied, "He found out about my holdings and threatened to expose me if I didn't help him gain entrée into theton. Even back at Eton, he was a pathetic little climber. We called himJericho—Gerry Co., get it?—which was where we wished him." Pendleton smirked at his own cruel wit.
"You knew him at Eton?" Harteford said.
"I wouldn't say Iknewhim. My society has always been several spheres above his. He's got but a questionable speck of blue in his blood."
"I believe his paternal grandmama was the youngest daughter of the Comte Valois," Helena put in.
Marianne had to marvel at her friend's facility with titles, foreign and domestic.
"A penniless French aristocrat. And Jericho's mother was a merchant's daughter." The earl directed a hostile glance at Harteford, who returned his stare impassively. Sneering, Pendleton continued, "Little Jericho used to try to rub shoulders with my cronies and me. He was willing to do anything to fit in, which provided us with hours of entertainment."
Marianne recoiled at the earl's sadistic glee. Coyner had undoubtedly suffered at the hands of Pendleton and his ilk. Was that why he'd planted evidence on the earl?
"One time, we brought him with us to the village. There was an old tavern slattern who'd tumble anyone for a shilling. We locked Jericho in a room with her," Pendleton said with a nasty laugh, "and wouldn't let him out until he'd done the deed."
"That's despicable." Marianne's fists curled.
