The gleam remained. So did his silence.
“Was it worth it?”
He nodded. “It was.”
“You will not share this with me?”
“It will not be easy to hear.”
“The past few days, I have discovered that my son pays to watch unusual sexual encounters, makes bets the king could not cover about ludicrous things, and believes I am an ogre who could skin him alive. Yet you believe what you have found will be harder for me to absorb?”
He tilted his head to one side. “Possibly.”
“Tell me anyway.”
“Edmund is being blackmailed.”
Judith’s chest tightened, and her voice fell to a whisper. “How so?”
“The holder of several of his debts, one Vincent Atkinson, convinced Edmund they could be resolved if he ‘procured’ a particular item from Devonshire.”
Judith breath caught. “The vase.”
Rydell nodded. “The vase.”
Judith put a hand over her mouth as she fought to catch her breath.
This was indeed worse.
Tears stung her eyes. All thetonknew about the disappearance of a Wedgewood vase from the Duke of Devonshire’s collection. Reportedly the design of Joseph Flaxman, the priceless vase had been a cherished part of the duke’s family heirlooms. It had vanished after a grand ball and had been the talk of the Beau Monde ever since. Rumors had flown that it had been stolen by someone close to Devonshire, despite theton’sobvious preference it be a servant or other underling, which had been the first assumption. Even the mere suspicion that the thief came from within their own ranks had horrified theton. Such a thief, if caught, would face dire consequences for himself and his family, socially if not legally.
“Do you think Edmund truly stole it?”
Mark stilled, on finger tracing along the edge of his saucer.
“So you do not.”
His eyes narrowed. “Atkinson has intimated thathehas it. He has also hinted that he has resolved your stepson’s debt to him.”
“However . . .”
“He is demanding more money from Edmund, ransom money, if you will, or Atkinson will spread the word among thetonthat Edmund is the thief. But I believe he is holding something else over Edmund’s head, although I am not sure what that is. Whatever it is, Edmund has acquiesced because of it. Atkinson has a go-between who is gathering the money and delivering it.”
She lowered her hand as the news settled in her mind alongside all the other shocks about her son. “So no matter whether Edmund is guilty, Atkinson has set it so that he will appear so, the truth be damned.” A realization settled overher and she stared at Mark. “This is why you went into the Rookeries.”
“I wanted to verify the rumor. The go-between is a young man who lives there. He collects the money and delivers it to Atkinson.”
“Delivers it where?”
“Atkinson is the owner of a small and exclusive but profitable club in Bloomsbury.”
“You have been there.”
“Many times. I consider him a competitor.”
“So it would be in your interest to help me destroy him.”
Rydell gave a low laugh. “I would be most interested in seeing you try, although I’m not sure that’s possible. His clientele includes some of the most elite of the aristocracy.”
