“A man I believe one can rely on. He has a kind of inner strength, does he not, Gramma?”
“Yes. Agents who work for the Crown would need to be that way, I imagine. They are unlikely to marry, and for a very good reason. They’d be neglectful husbands, often away on some mission, should they survive the dangerous work they do.”
Prue shivered and rubbed her arms. “I… I know that.” Surely, he would prefer his rakish lifestyle with nothing to tie him down. “I don’t think of him as a prospective husband, Gramma.”
“Of course, you do, child. And who can blame you?”
On the following day, the carriage took them to Chancery Lane in London, where the offices of Phipps and Browne, the family solicitors, was situated.
Mr. Phipps, a gray-haired gentleman, greeted them, his short-sighted eyes beaming from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “May I offer you tea, ladies?”
“No, everyone is waiting. We prefer you to get on with the reading, Phipps,” Gramma said.
Mr. Phipps coughed behind his hand and directed them into his office.
Like everyone else present, Prue was anxious to hear what the future held in store for her.
There were several members of her father’s staff already seated, whom Prue greeted: the butler, Nyland, the housekeeper, Mrs. Burrows, and Mr. and Mrs. Bellows, the gardener and his wife, who had been with the family for many years. Seated behind them was Mrs. Collins, the cook, plus several others standing at the back of the room, including the coachman, her father’s aged groom, and two housemaids who had grown up on the estate.
Roland came in a few moments later. He removed his hat, politely greeted them, then sat, tapping a finger on the wooden arm of the chair.
Prue thought he looked ill at ease and wondered why. Surely, this would be the triumphant moment he’d waited for all his life.
Mr. Phipps seated himself behind the desk. He cleared his throat. “We are gathered here today for the reading of the late Earl of Sedgwick’s will, dated the twentieth of June 1816.”
“The earl recently left a new will?” Roland’s forehead furrowed, and he straightened in his chair.
“Indeed, he did, Mr. Stanton.” Mr. Phipps rustled the pages. “I shall begin with the staff annuities.”
Her father had been generous to the loyal servants who’d been with him for years. Nor had he forgotten younger members of the staff. When those present were mentioned, each expressed delight. Cook dabbed her eyes with a handkerchief and murmured how awful it was for a gentleman in his prime to be struck down so cruelly.
Mr. Phipps’s somber gaze peered at them over the top of his glasses. “And now we turn to the family.”
Roland leaned forward in his chair, his hands gripping his knees, his knuckles white.
*
Jack attended BowStreet Magistrate’s Court for the trial of the five men involved in the conspiracy. Their case had been moved up in the list due to their serious threat to society. They were sure to be condemned to hang, now that informants had come forth with damning evidence. It was hoped this would be a warning to other like-minded souls dissatisfied with the government. It was seen to have been satisfactorily dealt with; Lord Sidmouth was pleased that a crime of this magnitude had been aborted before blood could be shed. None of the five men admitted to having anything to do with the shooting of the Earl of Sedgewick.
Jack would not rest, could not, until he knew who had broken into Lady Prudence’s bedchamber and had dealt with him. He went to see the men employed to keep a discreet watch on William Darby. But they had little to tell him. Jack had a few questions for Darby for which he wanted answers. Had he gone to Richmond when he’d escaped Jack’s men? If so, who was it who’d told him where Lady Prudence was staying? It was an unnerving thought. Stanton knew, as he had found her there. He couldn’t be discounted, but who else? Jack’s jaw tightened as he climbed the rickety stairs to William Darby’s door.
Jack walked unceremoniously into the room. Darby lay on his bed, his long, dark hair pulled back from his lean face. “I’d like a word.” Jack kicked the door shut with his foot and strode over to him.
A flicker of fear passed over Will’s face as he sat up, but he recovered, glaring, his mouth pulled into a sneer. “It would take more than you lot of fools to get the better of me.”
“You’re in big trouble, Darby. I’m offering you a chance. Give us the information we seek, and we may be able to do something for you.”
Will rolled off the bed and jumped up. “You can’t pin anything on me.”
Jack grabbed Will by his spotted kerchief, pulling the shorter man up onto his toes. “It will go better for you if you sit down under yourown volition and explain.”
When Jack released him, Will fell into a chair. “Ask your questions then, and get out,” he said sourly.
Jack leaned over him, staring into his mean, dark eyes, giving himself time to deal with what he’d just discovered. When close to Darby, Jack smelled an unlikely scent on him. Bergamot. Knowing him to be guilty did nothing to ease the cold knot in Jack’s chest. How had Darby known where to find Lady Prudence? And how could Jack make him talk, short of throttling him? Jack’s anger increased to boiling point and his fingers curled into his palms with the urge to beat him within an inch of his life.
Jack stepped back and looked down at him. “You went to Richmond two nights ago.”
“Who says?”
