She firmly reminded herself that this engagement was merely a temporary arrangement born out of necessity—nothing more.
Forcing herself to recover first, she sat down once more. ‘Who do you think the Falcon is?’ she asked, returning quickly to safer ground. Her tone emerged altogether more formal than before.
Lord Stanley tilted his head, studying her closely—whether at her question or her sudden change in tone, she was uncertain. Then his expression shuttered, and when he spoke again, his voice was noticeably more clipped.
‘According to my investigations, Fraser was nearly ruined by failed shipping investments only a few years ago.’ He leaned back slightly, his expression darkening. ‘Yet somehow he has since come into a sudden fortune. Until now, I could not determine how.’
He glanced towards the fire, jaw tightening.
‘But if Lady Boulton is correct, and Fraser became involved with Hamilton, then it finally makes sense.’
Charlotte tilted her head slightly. ‘You believe Hamilton financed him?’
‘Possibly. Or rewarded him.’ Lord Stanley’s tone sharpened. ‘But I still do not believe Fraser is the Falcon. If he only joined them recently, he is most likely little more than a new recruit.’
He paused briefly before continuing.
‘The Odd Fellows have operated for years, and this Falcon clearly commands the others. Judging by the manner in which they obeyed him the other evening, he must predate Fraser by a considerable margin.’
Charlotte’s lips pressed together.
‘And though I dislike saying so, I do not believe Lord Bainbridge capable of orchestrating such an operation either. Lady Boulton claimed only his son attended these gatherings previously.’
‘I do not believe Lord Bainbridge is involved either,’ he agreed. ‘I have been observing him closely these past days. The man is becoming senile—even in the midst of simple conversations. I do not think his mind remains sharp enough to oversee an operation of such intricacy.’
Charlotte nodded slowly.
‘Besides,’ Lord Stanley added dryly, ‘a criminal mastermind generally remembers where he last placed his spectacles.’
A reluctant smile tugged at Charlotte’s lips.
‘Unless he passed the operation on to his son?’ she suggested.
He shook his head. ‘I think that unlikely. My sources tell me Lord Bainbridge was estranged from his son for decades before the young man’s death—long before the Odd Fellows began expanding their operations. Bainbridge resided chiefly in London whilst Frederick remained almost entirely at the country estate. They scarcely saw one another and rarely corresponded.’
‘Why?’
‘Rumour has it the son despised his father and wanted nothing to do with him. Bainbridge, in turn, cut him off financially.’
Charlotte frowned thoughtfully. ‘Perhaps Frederick Bainbridge’s lack of funds drove him towards the Odd Fellows in the first place—and helped him build his own fortune?’
Lord Stanley nodded approvingly. ‘I believe that is more likely now Lady Boulton has confirmed Frederick alone attended these gatherings.’ His eyes narrowed slightly. ‘And according to my enquiries, his fortune increased dramatically during the last decade.’
‘Which leaves Payne or Oswald.’ Charlotte said after a pause. ‘But I do not think Sir Oswald is involved. He attends only on account of Boulton’s sister. He seems so insensible—a bumbling, horse-mad sort of man. I find it highly improbable that he could orchestrate such things.’
He did not answer at once. Instead, he shifted slightly, his fingers tapping once against the armrest as though turning some troublesome thought over in his mind.
‘I do not think Sir Oswald is entirely as foolish as he appears,’ he said slowly. ‘I have been thinking about the passageways. Sir Oswald was commissioned to oversee the repairs after the fires. It is entirely possible the hidden corridors were installed under instructions from the Grand Fellows.’
Charlotte glanced at him askance. ‘But they could have been installed whilst your father was still alive?’
‘I cannot say for certain,’ he admitted. ‘But the passages exist only within the west wing, which was the sole part of the house damaged by the fire.’
He glanced towards the ceiling as though picturing the hidden corridors threading through the house above them.
‘Men do not construct concealed routes throughout a mansion without attracting attention,’ he continued. ‘I amcertain local labourers and foremen would have been involved in the work.’
A crease appeared between his brows.
