Page 68 of Secrets of the Heart

He straightened suddenly. “Wait. I think—”

Michael thumbed rapidly through the papers remaining in the stack, stopping at one of them and scanning down it. “Yes! I thought I had heard his name. Roland Ellerby was one of the guests at Lord Setworth’s estate party two weeks before his illuminated manuscript was stolen!”

He looked up at Rachel triumphantly.

She leaned forward. “Michael, that must mean something! Surely that could not be coincidence.”

“I am beginning to think that none of this is coincidence. Rather, it is all very well planned and carried out.”

“Do you think there is someone who goes about doing what Anthony said? Committing a murder or a theft and then forcing the person who benefitted from it to do them a favor?” Rachel asked.

“That still sounds absurd,” Michael said, shaking his head.

“Surely all these people who benefitted could not have just banded together and decided to carry out the various crimes.”

“I wouldn’t think so. It would be too unwieldy. There would be too much danger of one of them developing a conscience and turning the others in,” Michael said. He put his elbows on the desk and steepled his fingers together, staring thoughtfully into space. “But what if there was one person, someone entirely unconnected to the beneficiary of the crime, who knew how much that person would like it if some crime or other were done, in this instance getting rid of a rich uncle. And say the criminal, the mastermind of this scheme, went to this nephew and offered to do away with the uncle, told him when it would happen so that the nephew could provide himself with an unassailable alibi. And all our mastermind asked in return was that in the future the nephew—or whoever benefited—would do a favor for him. In this case, the favor turned out to be going to an estate party and learning the whereabouts of a valuable object that the criminal wants to steal. Then the criminal goes in or hires a thief to go in and remove the valuable object, and the money he makes off it is his payment for doing away with the uncle.”

“Or, in some cases, he could ask for direct payment, I suppose—or blackmail someone, as he is doing to Mr. Birkshaw now. ‘If you don’t do as I tell you, I will make it appear that you committed the crime.”’

“Exactly.”

“But who could it be?” Rachel mused. “It would have to be someone who knew a great deal about people who had money or valuable possessions, as well as about who would benefit most from, say, a wealthy relative dying.”

“Yes.” Michael looked at her thoughtfully. “It would almost seem as if it would be someone of the Ton.”

“Michael!” Rachel stared at him, shocked. “You are saying that—that it is a peer? Even someone we know?”

He shrugged. “I am sure there are a fair number of larcenous peers. Now, whether there are many who are clever enough to have thought of this, that is another matter altogether,” he said dryly.

Rachel chuckled. “You are dreadfully unkind.”

“Mmm. Or too truthful.”

“There are others it could be,” Rachel suggested. “Servants hear a great deal of gossip, not only upstairs, but also from other servants at other houses. One can often get the most up-to-date gossip from one’s lady’s maid. Dressmakers, milliners…and I’ll warrant men exchange a great deal of information in front of their tailors or boot makers, as well.”

“Yes, and there are secretaries to men of wealth and power,” Michael added. “That would seem a good field for a possible mastermind—a man of intelligence, even good social standing, perhaps, and lacking in money, or he would not have had to take the position.”

“Yes. You are right. Or perhaps there is more than one person—two, say, one who knows the criminal world and another who knows the wealthy world.”

Michael nodded. “That’s a good thought. Thank you, Rachel.” He smiled at her as he stood up. “I think I should go talk this over with Sir Robert.”

“Blount?” Rachel asked, surprised and, she realized, disappointed, that he was leaving. “But why?”

“He has the best mind I know for this type of thing,” he answered.

“Oh, yes. That’s right. He is the one who got you into investigating such things,” Rachel said. She remembered now his telling her about Sir Robert’s bringing him into the business during the war and later introducing him to Bow Street. Of course, it had been James Hobson who had been telling her the story at the time….

She rose, the ease she had felt with Michael gone now, chased away by the memory of his deception.

Michael, watching her, felt his heart sink. He wished he had not mentioned Blount. Things had been going well until then. Now Rachel looked as aloof as she had yesterday morning when they set out. It seemed as if their conversations were filled with hidden traps, ready to snap to at the first unwary move he made.

“I suppose I will go to the Wilkinson soiree tonight,” Rachel said. She did not really wish to, but it would be a way to fill an empty evening. “I presume you will be with Sir Robert all evening?”

“I’m not sure—yes, perhaps.” There would be little point in his coming home early, he thought. Rachel would not be there.

Michael hesitated, wishing, once again, that he could redo the last few minutes. Then, with an awkward nod, he picked up the list and left the room.

Rachel plopped back down in her chair. She thought about going up and dressing for dinner. It seemed pointless, with Michael being gone. Perhaps she would just have her supper brought to her on a tray in her room. She knew she had no interest in going to the Wilkinson soiree, either.