“You said it was a pity he wasn’t alive. I’m, as you say, a skilled lawyer. We are devilish on details. Also, we have the man who killed Ferrell. And Sir Duncan. We don’t know where Ferrell’s supervisor is. Or if he is alive. He might have wisely up and vanished, leaving behind a confused wife. If that is the case, Steele will find him.”
“Steele?”
“Beckett Steele. He’s the one who found Jedidiah Watkins, the murderer. I had told Steele I didn’t think it possible to trace the actual killer, but he likes a challenge. You’ve heard of Steele, haven’t you?”
Holsworthy wasn’t looking so certain now. “I don’t know him,” he answered.
“He is an enigma. No one claims to know him, and yet everyone does. He manages to accomplish whatever he sets his mind on and he set his mind on you.”
“How does he know me?”
“He and I are friends. I find Steele an odd character, albeit a persuasive one. Watkins has confessed to him in return for transport instead of a noose. He told Steele, and presumably the magistrate, that your man Charles contacted him.”
“Charles would never give out my name. This blighter is making false accusations.”
“Actually, Watkins followed Charles to your home early on in your association. Apparently he didn’t trust someone who would hire him to kill not one but three men. Sir Duncan, Ferrell—and myself.”
Michael leaned forward. “You can imagine how surprised, and actually honored, I was that I had made a list of your enemies. Although I am thankful you only recently included me on the list of tasks for Watkins.”
The glass fell from Holsworthy’s hand, splashing port onto his breeches. He didn’t move.
“The most damning evidence of your connection,” Michael said, “was that you sent a message to Sir Duncan to meet Watkins in Lord Reeve’s garden the other night. Now, that was careless. The note was found on Sir Duncan’s body. He hadn’t obeyed instructions to burn it. Sir Duncan’s servant recognized the messenger as your man Charles. If you are starting to wonder where Charles is, I assure you, he is with Steele.”
Instead of acting panicked, Holsworthy pulled his gouty leg off the stool so that he sat up straighter. With the arrogance of the verywealthy, he calmly said, “Well, this is a conundrum. No matter what I’ve done, your accusations will come to naught.”
His comment surprised Michael. “Why do you say that?”
“Because if you bring all this information before the magistrate, you will be destroying yourself. Your actions will taint the title. You don’t want to do that. You’ve just married. You’ll have children, a son. You will want him to be proud of the name Holsworthy.”
“I would rather he knew that when justice had to be served, his father didn’t flinch.”
At that moment, several Runners and Sir Percy Dingby, the local magistrate, came out from behind closed doors on the opposite side of the room. Michael had decided Ferrell’s papers had given him more than enough proof of Holsworthy’s involvement that he hadn’t bothered with Gammon and the War Office. He’d gone straight to Sir Percy, who had agreed with him.
The magistrate spoke. “The time for worrying about your reputation is past, my lord. You bring dishonor to your name all by yourself.”
“What are you doing here?” Holsworthy asked.
“Listening. I had to hear your responses with my own ears,” Sir Percy answered before saying to the Runners, “Take him.”
The two Runners moved forward, helping a sputtering Holsworthy from his chair. His wigfell off his head; however, the Runners had him by each arm. He couldn’t reclaim it. Instead, he protested, “You can’t take me away. I’m no common criminal. I shall wait in my home.”
“You shall wait wherever I put you, Lord Holsworthy,” Sir Percy answered. “Treason is a serious matter, and there isn’t a lord in the realm who can’t be tried for it.”
His answer appeared to shock Holsworthy, and just like that, he was escorted, bald-pated, from the room. Sir Percy looked to Michael. “Excellent work, sir.”
“Don’t let him wiggle out of anything.”
“I won’t,” Sir Percy promised. As Michael went to leave, Sir Percy stopped him. “You spoke about Steele.”
Michael paused.
“Does anyone know anything about him?” Sir Percy asked. “He shows up in the most damning places. More than once, I’ve received instructions from higher up to do as he asked.”
Michael wasn’t going to give away their school connection. Besides, Steele enjoyed being mysterious. “I know nothing—other than he seems to appear whenever someone has done what they shouldn’t, and he always exacts a price.”
Sir Percy nodded. “The Runners talk about him as if he has supernatural powers.”
“He might,” Michael agreed. It was possible.
