Mr. Seward lifted his chin. “Well, you can’t think I’m the only person he’s ever blackmailed, can you?”
“I don’t know,” said Byron. “I haven’t thought of that at all. Who else did he blackmail?”
“Why don’t you ask your friend Mr. Beaumont about that?” Mr. Seward’s eyes flashed.
“SO,” SAID BYRON, urging Jane out the front door of the Beaumont house, “it wasn’t so much blackmail, not exactly, but rather in the same family as blackmail, I should think.”
“What does that mean?” said Jane.
After the discussion with Mr. Seward, they’d come all the way back to the Beaumont house, where Byron had gone to seek Mr. Beaumont, and Jane had dallied downstairs in one of the sitting rooms, all alone, looking at the art on the walls. She’d seen no one, and she found she shamefully wanted another look at Mrs. Beaumont’s new tiny babe, to see if he looked like Mr. Eves. Babes often favored their fathers rather strongly.
But she hadn’t seen anyone at all, and the babe was off with the nurse, of course, and Jane scolded herself for being drawn to any such course of action.
“It seems that when there was need of some expensive repairs to the tavern’s roof, Mr. Hardy went directly to Mr. Beaumont and demanded that he contribute financially, or else he would expose him for his predilection for men.”
“Ah,” said Jane. “That sounds like blackmail to me.”
“Yes, I suppose, but it was a one-time transaction that has not been renewed, at least that’s what Beaumont says. By the by, never indicate to him that I’ve told you any of this. He thinks I am keeping all of that to myself, and if he were to find out—”
“I would never!” cried Jane.
“Good,” said Byron.
“Of course,” she said.
“All right,” he said. “So, anyway, there was only one other thing he did say to me, which was that he knew that there was at least one other fellow that he, that is Beaumont, had been associated with, and that he, that is Mr. Hardy, knew about it.”
Jane furrowed her brow, unsure if she’d followed that. “You’re saying there’s another man who is one of Mr. Beaumont’s lovers, who Mr. Hardy also knows about.”
“Yes,” said Byron. “And that Mr. Hardy has likely blackmailed him.”
“Oh,” said Jane. “Who is it?”
“A man named Mr. Crampton. Alexander Crampton. I know him, and he has a country house—”
“I know him, too,” interrupted Jane. “He threw a ball at his house last fall that I attended. But he wouldn’t even be in the country right now. He’d be in London.”
“Well, yes, one would think,” said Byron. “But I think we should ride out there and check, because this man might have had reason to kill Mr. Hardy.”
“Mr. Crampton, the murderer!” cried Jane. And Mr. Crampton also liked men in that way? How many men out there were attracted to each other?
“I can see it, actually,” said Byron, looking off into the distance. “He was always the sort of man to hold grudges.”
Jane put her hands on her hips. “You’re going to tell me he doesn’t like you.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Byron, giving her a very cheery smile. “Everyone likes me.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
JANE WAS FAIRLYcertain that the servants at Cannar Hall, which was the name of Mr. Crampton’s country estate, would tell them that Mr. Crampton was not at home, that he was off in London, because everyone who was anyone was in London during the spring, and Jane couldn’t think it would be any different in this case.
Mr. Crampton was the sort of man who straddled both the world of the respectable gentry and the ton. He had no title, but he was quite wealthy. He had inherited his fortune and also added to it by investing in trade.
They were informed Mr. Cramptonwasat home, so they were shown into a sitting room on the lower level of his estate, which was vast with vast gardens and grounds. The sitting room was all done up in blues. The walls were blue. The carpets were blue, though a different shade. And the couches and chairs were all also in various shades of blue.
Jane sat gingerly on a blue chair while Byron walked around the sitting room, touching the frames on the paintings on the walls. The frames were not blue.
“So,” said Jane, “since he hates you, ought I do the talking?”
