“Did you write down a wager?”
“A yellow George either way.”
“Hedged your bet, eh?”
“Always. I’m a lawyer, Your Grace. It is how I make money.” He then added slyly, “Have you heard the rumor that Letty Bainhurst asked one of her many male friends to place a wager on the matter?”
Matt grimaced. If he needed proof of what Letty truly thought of him, well, there was an answer. Doggedly, he focused his mind elsewhere. “How is Venetia?”
George was married to a woman who had been a renowned beauty in her time. However, Venetia had taken to her bed several years ago and rarely went out. George had once told him it was because of her melancholy nature. He and his children appeared devoted to her.
“Much the same,” he answered. “I wanted her to attend Evanston’s rout this Saturday with me. She might.”
“You have always been good to her,” Matt observed.
“That is marriage. You stand by your wife, your children, your family,” he added with a nod to Matt. “You do what is right.”
“Including paying off a blackmailer?” Matt asked.
George had been locking the door, but he now went rigid. His head turned to meet Matt’s eye. “How did you learn of this?”
“I confronted Minerva.”
“She wouldn’t have told you on her own. She didn’t want you to know.”
“I found the money missing in the ledgers. It was actually quite obvious. Shall we discuss?”
George pulled the key from the door and pushed it open. “Come in.” He followed Matt into the anteroom. It was filled with empty desks.
“Everyone has gone home early?” Matt observed. Usually the office was a hive of activity.
“My clerks? A few are on errands. Another I sent home. The lad appeared peaked and I don’t want his sniffles around me.”
George indicated that Matt should continue to his private chambers. Inside was a large desk covered with neat stacks of ledgers, much like the ones Matt had spent his time studying at Mayfield.
On the corner of the desk was George’s wig and stand, a symbol of his profession. A large bookcase took up one wall, and the room smelled of paper, bindings, and ink. George waved Matt to a chair in front of his desk.
Matt took a seat and placed his hat on the desk next to the wig stand.
George removed his own hat and set it on the wig. He took his chair behind the desk. “Would you like a drink, Your Grace?”
Matt shook his head. “No, thank you.” He needed his wits about him.
“You do not mind if I do?”
“Please, go ahead.”
George took a glass out of his desk drawer. The building was quiet at this hour, just the way Matt would wish it. No prying eyes or unwanted ears. The day was ending. The street traffic outside spoke of people hurrying to their homes or rushing to other activities. The overcast skies had been clearing and a faded autumn light came in the window and highlighted George as he poured his drink. He placed the decanter to the side before saying, “What do you wish to know?”
Matt leaned forward in his chair. “Tell me what you know of Hardesty.”
George looked away as if he would rather avoid the conversation, but then he said, “Hardesty is a criminal. My advice is that you steer clear of him. Or has he been in contact with you or the dowager?”
“No, we have not heard from him. Grandmother said that after William’s death, they have had no further contact. Why did you not tell me about the blackmail?”
“Because it was the past. It was done.”
“Except the man’s demands bankrupted the estate.”
