After all, ten spoilt lordlings had been coming and going as they pleased, evading the tower’s defenses, their father’s servants, and the surveillance of four men who specialized in solving the problems of thehaut ton, and uncovering their secrets. If the lordlings could do it, so could Mel.
All she had to do was discover their secret, and meanwhile carry out her real mission.
She and the butler turned a corner and began traversing a long hall with windows that looked out over roofs on one side and on the other, down into a stable yard. Two-thirds of the way to the other end, bars blocked their passage. Two sets of bars, in fact, each containing a gate.
The butler unlocked the first gate, then handed the key to one of the two footmen who had been escorting them through the house. The footman stayed outside and locked the gate. The same process saw Mel and the butler on their own at the end of the hall, with two locked gates behind them.Clever.The young lords would not be able to escape even if they overwhelmed whoever came into their chambers.
And yet, they had some way to either leave or to bring in supplies. Mel’s respect for them went up a notch. Perhaps they were not so contemptible after all. It didn’t matter. They were not her main purpose here.
Next came a door, which the butler also unlocked. It opened into an antechamber. The butler handed Mel his lamp and said, “Ring the bell and wait here for Lord Kemble.” She heard the key turn in the lock after he shut her in.
Bell. There it was, a large handbell, on a table against the side wall of the chamber. There was a door opposite the one she’d entered by, and another table on the fourth wall of the room.And that was all. Just bare stone walls and a wooden floor, a plain ceiling, the two tables, the two doors, and the bell.
Very well, then. Time to meet the sons of the Marquess of Teign. Apples did not fall far from the tree—no doubt they were as vicious and evil as their father, so Mel would need to be very wary. She put down her bag on the floor and the lamp on the table.
What would they say when she told them why she was there? She intended to confess she was an investigator, for she would learn from their reactions. She’d not tell them everything she was here to investigate, of course. Just their part of it.
There was one sure way to find out what they’d do. She picked up the bell and rang it.
*
Allan was playingchess with his brother Frank when the notification bell rang.
“What’s happening?” Frank wondered. “It is not yet time for our meal.”
The meal was always delivered at seven in the evening. If you could call it a meal—bread and water, and barely enough for three grown men, let alone ten. On days their father allowed some of them out, the cook often managed to slip them food, and those of them required to attend events could hope for a good supper.
However, their father’s plan was to starve them into compliance, so he usually found ways to block these other sources of food. Had it not been for the secret, Allan didn’t know how he could have held out, or his brothers either.
“Another investigator?” Donald wondered, looking up from his drawing. Those brothers who had not already been in the central space had emerged from the surrounding chambers, alllooking toward the entrance. “His lordship is not due for another rant.”
“There’s a simple way to find out,” said Jerome. He was the youngest of the brothers, and occasionally impetuous—but in this case, he was correct. Allan looked up at those hanging over the balcony to the gallery that circled the room and gave access to the upper tier of rooms. Hudson was closest.
“Hudson, check who is there,” he said. Hudson disappeared from view. In his imagination, Allan visualized his brother pulling back the carpet, lifting the trapdoor that they had laboriously made in the thick oak floor, and peering down into the antechamber below.
After a long moment, Hudson was back at the balcony. “It is one man,” he reported. “Not one of the servants.”
Almost certainly another investigator. Poor chump. According to the butler, the previous one had been badly beaten and thrown into the street. “Let him in,” said Allan to the brother nearest the door. He could not afford to sympathize with the man, who was, after all, working with the enemy. They would need to treat him as they did the others: Drug him to sleep at night and run rings around him in the daytime.
The investigator entered, looking around the room with interest. For some reason, he chose to bow first to Allan. What made the man think Allan was the eldest? They were all there, and though the younger brothers were clearly only in their twenties, Baldwin and Cornelius, the first set of twins, were a mere two years younger than Allan.
“Do I have the honor of addressing Lord Kemble?” the man asked, in a light, pleasant voice that was more cultured than his mediocre appearance suggested.
“And you are?” Allan replied.
Another bow. “I am Mel Black. I am an investigator, and your father has hired me to find out why he is failing in his efforts to bully and intimidate you into obedience.”
Around him, his brothers stilled in shock at the investigator’s honesty.
There had been four before this one, sent to discover how the brothers were managing to hold out against the marquess’s strictures. Two had claimed to be valets, one a footman, one a drawing master, of all things. As if jailers sent drawing masters to those they were trying to starve and subdue.
None before had stated the marquess’s true purpose in sending them. This man was audacious, to say the least. This boy, rather, for his shoulders were narrow and his cheeks showed no signs of a beard, even close up—this boy had a plump gut but thin wrists, like a youth that had just begun a growth spurt. Perhaps Allan should offer him a way out.
“Has his lordship told you the price of failure?” Allan asked. “They will beat you, and possibly kill you. I can smuggle you out tomorrow when the gates open, if you wish to escape.”
“I am tougher than I look, Lord Kemble,” said Mr. Black. “The marquess has told me that, if I do not uncover your secrets, I shall be beaten and given to a press gang. I have a strong incentive to win. I am sorry that we are on opposite sides, but I think it best to be honest.”
“One has to admire Mr. Black’s cheek,” said Baldwin. “I am Baldwin, Mr. Black. Allow me to present you to my brothers.” And he went around in age order, to his twin Cornelius first, then Donald, Ernest, Francis (whom they all called Frank), Gerard and Hudson, who were the second set of twins, then Isaac, and finally Jerome.
