I should go back to the letters. Re-read everything. See if Learmonth could piece together who owed these great debts to Betula.
He stalked back to the leather chair and plunked down into it heavily, like a stone being dropped into a tin pail of water.
What if…An intrusive thought rose in his mind then.What if the criminal network knows I'm investigating them? What if they somehow found out I am not just the Duke of Talwyn but also the infamous Lord Spencer?
His mind thrummed with this new concept.
Someone who was working for this criminal enterprise could have found a way to infiltrate the masquerade. They could have slipped poison into my drink that night and…
He could not bear to let that thought ferment any further in his brain. When he contemplated all the malicious deeds that others committed, his mind swerved toward the horrors he and his compatriots had already endured.
Memories of Vincent being kidnapped two years ago made him shudder.
Vincent had been abducted. He vanished into thin air and Sebastian had been lucky that he had come back to London largely unscathed.
What if I hadn’t stumbled out to the garden that night and made myself bring the drink back up? Would something similar have happened to me?
After swallowing the whole of his drink, Sebastian was vulnerable. While he stumbled and wretched, anyone could have captured him. And he… Lord Spencer… the Duke of Talwyn… had been the one to afford his enemies such a chance.
All the guests at that soiree were hidden beneath masks. No one had given their real names at the door. Each room was cast in low candlelight, creating shadows where any sort of monster might lurk.
If someone wanted to hurt me, they would have been granted ample opportunities.
Then his thoughts homed in on his fox-masked lady.
Sebastian swore under his breath.
No,he told himself.You are tired and distracted by thoughts that do not belong in your head.
Lady Phoebe… Thisbe...
Stop letting your mind go idle. Focus, Talwyn. Focus.
Painstakingly, Sebastian lowered his head, shook it twice, and swore not to think of Lady Phoebe again until after he had devoted himself properly to his work.
For the next three-quarters of an hour, he pours over Learmonth’s letters and jotted notes on a long scroll of parchment. As he shifted his focus and studied the documents once more, he noticed a few names coming up several times.
Some were nicknames:the Songbird, Swing of the Dance, whatever that meant, andthe Harrow. All were too vague to even guess, but that was the point. Sebastian could only assume they were more influential members of the association or frequent informants. Perhaps they were the buyers of the information.
He studied the numbers, looking at how quickly debts were being paid off. One man’s sum, that made even Sebastian’s eyes widen, was paid off within a month. That was only something a very, very wealthy man could do, so it was clear the buyers and informants contained members of the gentry.
He found one piece of correspondence that had been intercepted by the Crown. It contained very little, other than a smooth introduction between a Lord Hummingbird and a Lord Redtree.
Sebastian snorted. The nicknames did indeed conceal the identities of these gentlemen, but he enjoyed the creativity.
Then he noticed one name that was not a play upon words or silly and unhelpful.
Lord Birchwood.
The document was dated only two months ago. He checked it once, then again, before deciding that he’d read it correctly initially.
Two months ago…What was Lord Birchwood doing two months ago?
A recent conversation Sebastian had with Verity sprung to mind. It had taken place after her musicale while all the other guests were scuttling toward the door. Sebastian had stayed behind so that he might congratulate Her Grace on a lovely evening without scores of women hanging on his every word and assuring him that his singing voice was the very best in all of England.
When all the others had left them in peace, he had asked the Duchess about her new acquaintance, Lady Phoebe. At that point, Verity did not know much, other than the fact that the youngest daughter of Lord Tripleton had recently returned to town and was set to marry the Marquess of Birchwood, information Sebastian had already been painfully aware of himself.
Yet it was Verity’s voice that rang in his head now.
