“The proprietor of the Wheatsheaf.”
“And what the devil does he want?” Julian sat back so he could see Simon’s face.
“That’s why I wanted to read the letter to you, sir. I was concerned that I was picking up a … threatening nuance that wasn’t there.”
“I doubt it, but fire away.”
Simon cleared his throat and began to read. “‘My lord.’” He paused. “I’ve no idea why he thinks you’re a peer, but—”
“No matter. Go on.”
“‘I wanted you to know that I have received several offers from interested parties’—that bit is underlined twice—‘regarding the lady who placed the advertisement. As a poor’—also underlined—‘but honest man, I was wondering if you might advise me what to do. I don’t wish to reveal their identities, but needs must, and I’m sure they’d understand that I must make ends meet. Yours, respectfully, Reginald Cox.’”
“It’s an out-and-out threat,” Julian said.
Simon nodded. “That’s what I thought, sir, but I wanted to make sure I wasn’t overthinking it.”
“I think we should pay him a visit.” Julian stood up. “Get your coat.”
“Shall I order the carriage, sir?”
“No, I don’t want to draw attention to the blasted place. We’ll hail a hackney cab at the corner of the street.” Julian was already on the move. “I’ll meet you back in the hall.”
Fifteen minutes later, they were awaiting Mr. Cox in one of the private parlors in the inn. Julian had declined refreshments and stood by the fireplace while Simon sat on the windowsill overlooking the stable yard.
The door opened, and the proprietor came in. “Morning, your lordship. Good of you to call so quickly.”
“I claim no right to a title, Mr. Cox. Plain Mr. Laurent will do,” Julian said. “Now, perhaps you might be so kind to explain exactly who wants information from you.”
“Oh, I don’t know if I should do that.” Mr. Cox looked uneasily over his shoulder. “They might come after me.”
“I might not be a peer, sir, but I have far more power than the press in this country. Tell me which publications are hounding you, and I will ensure that they cease doing so immediately.”
“It’s not just the press, Mr. Laurent. It’s the pamphlet printers and others who should know better.”
To his credit, Mr. Cox did look more genuinely anxious than greedy, but Julian still wasn’t convinced of his innocence.
Julian glanced at Simon. “Perhaps you could get Mr. Cox to write down a list of all those who are currently importuning him for information that he knows damn well he was paid to keep to himself.”
“Now, hang on, sir.” Mr. Cox stepped between them. “I did what I did as a favor to my daughter. I didn’t ask for no money from her employer.”
“But I suspect you received some anyway.”
Mr. Cox had the grace to look ashamed, but it didn’t last long. “I never expected all this attention, sir. My staff are threatening to leave if the press don’t stop bothering them. They’ve even been round to my own house and upset the missus.”
“If you provide me with a full and comprehensive list of everyone who has been a nuisance, I will endeavor to ensure that you are left in peace, Mr. Cox,” Julian said firmly. “We cannot have you bothering the ladies.”
Simon cleared his throat and stood up. “The sooner we have the list, the sooner we can make things right for you, sir. I’m more than willing to stay behind and get a start on that right now, Mr. Laurent.”
Julian put a gold guinea in Mr. Cox’s palm. “That’s an excellent idea. Are you game, Mr. Cox?”
“Aye, I suppose so.” The landlord sighed. “I wish I’d never gotten involved in this matter in the first place.”
“You and me both, sir. But we must protect the reputations of the ladies, on that we must agree.”
Mr. Cox nodded. “There’s paper and pens in the desk behind you, Mr. Benson, if you’d care to help yourself.”
“Excellent.” Julian turned to the landlord. “As soon as Simon has that list, we’ll get cracking, and we’ll keep you informed.”
