Thomasina smiled and Cornelius grinned broadly. “Elias. He shall be six on his next birthday,” Thomasina confided. “He is so looking forward to meeting his father.”
“And I him,” Cornelius added.
A son. Allan was thrilled, astounded, worried, a little hurt that he’d been kept in the dark—such a maelstrom of feelings that all he could say was, “Belated congratulations, both of you.”
“I am also looking forward to meeting my wife’s aunts, who have been mother hens to her since the day she arrived on their doorstep. I cannot wait to tell them how grateful I am. They came to England with Thomasina, Allan. The aunts and our son. They have a house in Spitalfields. As soon as we leave the tower, I shall join them, and then we’ll be off for France.”
“Can you not leave now?” Mrs. Blackmore asked. “Why do you have to wait for your brothers?”
Allan exchanged a glance with Cornelius, who waved a hand to indicate that Allan should explain. “You are aware that the marquess will punish the rest of us if any one of us goes missing,” he said.
“How will he know one of you is gone?” Mrs. Blackmore asked. “The only people who go into every room—or at least the only ones I’ve seen since I have been with you—are the maids, and surely you could think of a reason why they cannot go into Lord Cornelius’s room? After all, it will only be a few days, and you will all be gone.”
“A few days?”What brought her to that conclusion?
She sounded apologetic when she said, “I have good hearing. You told your brothers that your father plans a joint wedding for you, Lord Baldwin, and Lord Ernest, and that all the brothers would need to make their escape before you three were forced to go through with it. And one of the ladies here yesterday evening was boasting that her daughter is going to marry Lord Kemble a couple of days after Twelfth Night. So, I assume you are leaving within the next nine or ten days, unless we can find a way to stop the marquess for once and for all.”
“Stopping the marquess would be a good idea,” said Thomasina, with a firm nod.
As he absorbed what Mrs. Blackmore had said and readjusted his own thinking, Allan felt rather as if he had had several blows to the head. The wedding, so soon. The idea thatthey could hide Cornelius’s absence and let him reunite with his family. The concept, which he had initially dismissed, that they might defeat the marquess.
“Can we really fight the marquess and win?” Cornelius asked, in a tone that suggested hope.
“Whenever we have tried, someone we love has ended up hurt,” Allan reminded him.
“He has weak spots,” Mrs. Blackmore insisted. “We need to find and exploit them. He has too inflated a sense of his own invulnerability, for a start. His men obey him out of fear, not conviction, and Lord Kemble, you saw for yourself that his steward is prepared to lie to him, because confessing failure would mean punishment. That is a weakness, that he surrounds himself with people who are afraid to tell the truth.”
“We only have to keep Jerome out of his hands,” Cornelius said, thoughtfully. “He has no legal right to tangle with any of the rest of us, and if he tries, the law will be on our side.”
Allan snorted in disbelief. “The law is always on the side of those with the most status and power.”
“You are the Earl of Kemble,” Mrs. Blackmore said. “You have status and power, if you care to use them. You shall need allies, of course. You have all been kept separate from the rest of the ton, presumably so you cannot build alliances to protect yourselves. But that can be amended.”
“Who would stand with us against the Marquess of Teign?” Allan said. He meant to scoff, but the question became sincere on his tongue. The marquess had been the ogre of his childhood—of his life, really. But Mrs. Blackmore was correct. The man was not all-powerful.
“Anyone he has offended, for a start,” said Thomasina. “Including me and my family. And what of the families of his wives?”
Mrs. Blackmore nodded. “Disgruntled business contacts. Husbands whose wives he has seduced. Women who have been mistreated by him. Anyone at all who values justice and ethical behavior. I know of several high-ranking peers who might take an interest if we can produce evidence of wrongdoing.”
“Can we?” Cornelius wondered. “Beating one’s children is not, unfortunately, illegal. Attempting to force one’s daughter-in-law to engage in an illicit act may be highly immoral, but is it illegal?”
“I should like to know how his wives died,” Mrs. Blackmore said. “Also, it is not only his family he has terrorized. Servants. Political rivals. Other innocent women of all walks of life. I have been making notes and finding patterns. He believes he is above the law. So far, he has been right. I’d like to see that change.”
Was it possible? Looking at Mrs. Blackmore’s determined face, Allan couldn’t help but hope.
“We need to talk to our other brothers,” he cautioned.
“Thommie, I can’t risk my brothers without asking them first,” Cornelius said to his wife, “but if they agree, I should like to be with you and Elias.”
As it should be, Allan reflected, ignoring the sinking sensation that was his reaction to the knowledge that soon their close-knit circle of brothers would be split apart, as they went their separate ways.
