His instincts led him to remove the massive Latin book from its place on the shelf. He opened it and a faint cloud of dust rose to greet him.
Awful… just… disgusting.
Sebastian coughed loudly, then flipped to the “B” section. His slender finger skimmed down the length of the volume until he stopped at “Betula.”
Betula. Latin translation for birch.
It made sense. Betula. Birch.
Lord Birchwood was a man with many connections. He was hungry for more networking opportunities. And, as evidenced by his display at the Rolled Dice earlier in the evening, he was willing to mingle with all members of Society to find himself an ally.
So, if Birchwood is the debt collector, if he is blackmailing all these other Lords, including the Earl of Tripleton, then…
Sebastian slammed the Latin book closed and slid it back onto the shelf. He darted back toward his mahogany desk and leaned over so that he might again peruse the stacks upon stacks of documents that were littered there.
Birchwood is the person collecting all the money, but his name is in these ledgers. Why?
He ran his finger over the lists of numbers again. His hand had begun to sweat, so he slightly smudged the ink, but that did not matter.
If Birchwood is part of this whole criminal operation, if he is indeed working against his King, and deceiving other members of the peerage, why would he add his own name to this list? Why would he not use a false name? Could he not be Lord Tithering all the time?
No matter how Sebastian looked at it, he was stumped. He simply did not understand Lord Birchwood or what motivated him to implicate himself in the crimes.
I have to report him,Sebastian realized.
He stepped away from the desk, then hesitated.
If I report Lord Birchwood to the authorities and let someone else take it from here, what will happen to Lady Phoebe?
In his mind’s eye, he saw her sitting across from him in the small library, fiddling with her necklace while she shyly listened to him read aloud the passages from that book.
Then, he pictured her face at the opera when he had cornered her in the balcony suite and twirled a lock of her hair around his finger. Finally, he lifted his hands and touched his lips, remembering clearly the kiss they had shared not so very long ago.
I cannot risk Lady Phoebe’s reputation by outright reporting the man.
Instead, he knew what he needed to do, so, despite the hour, Sebastian snatched the documents up from his desk, donned his coat once more, and left his townhouse.
Within the hour, he was knocking on Colonel Learmonth’s door. A tired-looking butler answered the door, his eyes widening at the sight of Sebastian. He did not get a chance to ask anything before Sebastian spoke.
“I must speak with the Colonel at once,” he demanded. Then, after a second, he added, “I apologize for the late hour, but this is an urgent matter pertaining to the Crown.”
That was always the magic phrase.The Crown.It gave Sebastian a great deal of pardon, and garnered a certain amount of respect, too. Just as Sebastian expected, the butler hurried back inside. Moments later, Sebastian was waved in by him and directed to the Colonel’s study, where he met with Learmonth himself.
He was dressed in a robe, indicating that Sebastian had pulled the Colonel from his rest. The Colonel’s thick raven’s wing black hair, which was normally coiffed in a neat, curling swoop fell in a messy flop across his forehead. The Colonel nodded his head courteously, indicating that Sebastian was welcome and ought to shut the door behind himself.
Automatically, Sebastian followed the unspoken order, then turned back around and addressed the Colonel properly. “I apologize for disturbing you at such a late hour but?—”
“But this is a matter pertaining to the Crown,” the Colonel finished. “And I will always be available for that. It is my duty, as it is yours. I appreciate your own wakefulness at this hour.”
“Indeed, Colonel Learmonth. As you know, I have been investigating a criminal who has been preying on members of Society throughout the country. He goes by the name ofBetula.” The Latin rolled off his tongue far smoother than he would have thought he was capable of managing. “I believe I have discovered his true identity.”
“Indeed?” Colonel Learmonth’s eyebrows rose marginally, as if he was only mildly surprised to receive this news.
“Our traitor is the Marquess of Birchwood.”
“Lord Birchwood is a criminal?” The Colonel reiterated, and it almost seemed as though he needed to hear the report twice so that he could accept it.
“Yes, sir.” Sebastian swiped aside the long tails of his overcoat and pulled out the packet of documents he had been studying. He held them out to the Colonel. “I retrieved some of these from the Marquess myself.” The Colonel took the leather-bound packet, untied the bit of twine that held it closely sealed, then emptied the contents onto his desk.
