The inspector gave him a disbelieving look. “The watch were called, were they not?”
Edward rolled his eyes, the very image of a bored nobleman. “An overreaction on behalf of Lady Amelia Asterly. You know how women can be.”
Patterson flushed. “Regardless, it’s clear that the McTavishes have political inclinations that may pose a danger to our nation. Especially when they ally with men such as Charles Tucker, who has been seen with the McTavishes in recent days.”
Edward put his spoon back on the table and pushed his meal aside. If Patterson wanted to get serious, they’d get serious.
“Alastair McTavish is too pickled to pose danger to anything. Finleyispolitical. I give you that. And I can’t say that I agree with all of his views. But he’s just a boy with a vision for a better world. He’s not a danger to anybody.”
Patterson leaned forward. “But Finley’s associates are. We’ve been monitoring them for a long time—watching where they go and who they visit. Alastair has even been seen at your home. Now Finley has joined the scene with his new incendiary device. Fire at one’s fingertips.”
Her matches? That was what had the Home Office in a snit? “The lad is making it easier for chambermaids to light fires, not creating bombs. Good God, man, be reasonable.”
The inspector’s expression soured. He pursed his lips and raised one eyebrow in the kind of condescension that no smart man unleashed on a duke. Especially not the Duke of Wildeforde.
But Edward remained silent and let the fool talk.
“We have it on very good authority that revolutionaries, Charles Tucker in particular, have been using smaller protests against the rotten boroughs to discuss plans for further, more extreme, action. Our investigations found that Mr. McTavish was arrested at one of the protests recently. Your Grace, this is very serious.”
Curse it.“I can understand the need to take this seriously. Charles Tucker is a blight on society. But I can’t believe that Finley is involved. The boy is barely out of his leading strings. What evidence do you have otherwise?”
This blasted business was worse than he expected. It was one thing to save Fiona from charges of disorderly conduct. It would be something else entirely to extricate her from charges related to explosives. Edward started flicking through his mental address book, wondering who in the justice system he could contact in order to put an end to this without causing a scandal.
Patterson shifted. “So far the evidence is circumstantial. That’s why I’m talking to you.”
The inspector was a fool if he thought the Duke of Wildeforde would actively participate in any criminal investigation, let alone one that featured a houseguest. The Duke of Wildeforde did not court scandal. The Duke of Wildeforde took every measure possible to distance the family name from such activity. Fiona could have been this generation’s Guy Fawkes, and Edward would have kept the entire, ugly mess away from his family.
Sensing that he wouldn’t get the cooperation he wanted, the inspector moved on to threats. “It won’t be long before we manage to uncover some hard evidence against this group. The entire resources of the Home Office are being thrown behind this. If Finley McTavish is a party to these activities,we will learn of it.”
Edward signaled to the servant, who was positioned by the door, to clear away their plates. This conversation was over. “I’m sorry that I can’t help you. I don’t believe that Finley is involved in this, and I have no further information that can assist.”
Patterson smiled at the young girl who reached across him to grab the uneaten stew and then looked back at Edward.
“It seems odd that you would so strongly defend an insignificant country boy, unless there was some special relationship between you.”
Edward knew very well what the man was insinuating, as did the maid, given the sudden widening of her eyes and the added haste to her movements.
He seethed with anger. “I’m doing a good deed for a tenant whose welfare I am responsible for. That’s what gentlemen do.”
“In that case, I’ll take my leave,” Patterson said, digging a coin out of his jacket pocket and putting it on the table’s edge. “But if you can think of anything else or if you notice anything suspicious over the coming days, please inform me.”
***
Fiona leaned forward in the chair, legs wide, elbows resting on her thighs, fingers tented together. It was the same intense, dominant pose Edward used whenever he was trying to get a point across. He’d demonstrated it to her.
When he did it, he seemed authoritative, controlled, determined. When she did it, she felt awkward and gangly. But her experiences of recent weeks had shown her the world made way for men of power. Men of power didn’t ask. They didn’t pitch. They didn’t fuss with their color-coded papers laying out the proposal in an effort to convince people.
So today, with all of her training, she would channel Edward.
With no apparent effect.
Fiona swallowed the lump of frustration that stuck in her throat. “The point of technological innovation,” she argued, “is to increase efficiency in a way that improves the lives of the working class. Why in twenty, thirty years working days will shorten considerably, with no impact on productivity.”
One of Chester’s cronies shook his head. “The point of technological innovation is to increase profits, period. Otherwise, why would anyone bother investing in it?”
She wanted to yell. She wanted to tell him just how important social change was and how if something wasn’t done about it, then the divide between the rich and poor would lead to violence and anarchy.
But she wanted to make the sale more.
