Page 59

He bit back a small smile. Seeing Arabella shy and blushing in one day. What were the odds?

Lucy fell asleep quickly, the way she always did. It never ceased to amaze him how quickly she could go from chatting away to deep sleep.

He gathered her up, but paused at the door. Arabella was watching him.

"Good night, Arabella," he said.

"Good night, John."

19

The Dowager Duchess of Ashworth had not planned to hold court this afternoon. In fact, she had planned to review correspondence and drink her tea.

She had managed the tea.

But now, Sebastian was at the fireplace and Estella had taken a seat beside him. Kit's friend Mr. Gage was sprawled in the chair nearest the door, one ankle crossed over the other, looking entirely at ease in this room, despite it being his first visit to her home.

The duchess appreciated this about him. A man who could sit comfortably in a duchess's drawing room without an invitation or a title had a particular kind of nerve, and nerve was what she needed at the moment.

"The solicitor in Cheapside has been identified," Sebastian said. "A Mr. Poole. He's been handling payments through a trust account connected to at least three operations we've been following."

"Three?" the duchess said.

"The Marbury losses. A shipping concern in Bristol that went under earlier this year. And whatever is happening at Gage's warehouse."

The duchess turned to Gage. "You've found more?"

"I've found enough to know someone's been using my dock." He did not attempt to hide his fury. "Small shipments moving through under manifests that don't match the bills of lading. I don't know what they're moving or who's behind it. But I don't appreciate being made a fool of."

"No," the duchess agreed. "I don't imagine you do."

"Poole is the thread," Sebastian continued. "He connects them. But he's a middleman. Someone is directing him, and that someone has been careful."

The name Barrington hung in the air without anyone saying it. Sebastian met her stare.

"We continue," she said. "Poole is watched, not confronted. If we tip our hand now, we lose the man above him."

A knock interrupted them. The butler entered with a letter on a salver. "A letter, Your Grace. From Miss Evermore."

The duchess took it with a small spark of anticipation she did not bother to conceal. Thea's letters had become the most interesting part of her week. The girl wrote as she spoke, with a precision that bordered on clinical and an occasional aside so dry it took a moment to register as humor.

But despite her dry tone, the girl also had a knack for delivering gossip. Whether it was intentional or not, the duchess couldn't quite say.

She broke the seal and read through the first page. "It seems Miss Evermore has been thinking about the parish register."

Sebastian glanced up. "We've already been looking into who else might have been at the inn that night. If we can identify the other men⁠—"

"No." The duchess held up a hand. "She is not asking about the men. She is asking about the clergyman." She found the relevant passage. "Miss Evermore says, 'The officiant who signed the register is listed as Reverend H. Craddock. I would be grateful if Your Grace could make inquiries through whatever channels are available to you—specifically, whether this man was ever ordained. I have my doubts.'"

"Her doubts," Sebastian repeated.

"Miss Evermore's doubts tend to be well-founded." The duchess skimmed further. "'If Mr. Pierce makes a habit of this sort of arrangement—and from what Lady Arabella has described, she was likely not the only young woman to receive his particular attentions—then either the man has accumulated a remarkable number of wives and risks being arrested for polygamy at any moment, or⁠—'"

"She thinks it's a fraud," Estella interrupted.

"So it seems." The duchess turned the page and continued reading aloud. "'I would also note that a man who conducts fraudulent marriages as a matter of professional practice is unlikely to have used his real name at the ceremony. Craddock may be an alias. The diocesan records at Oxford would be the place to start. I leave this in Your Grace's capable hands, as I am regrettably confined to the country and have nothing but a small lending library and Lord Alderton's surprisingly comprehensive collection of agricultural pamphlets to occupy my time.'"

A low sound came from Gage's direction. When the duchess glanced up, his mouth had curved up at one corner.