David and Gren made another two stages in their journey after they left the sour Miss Hope Virtue, so an early start in the morning brought them to the outskirts of London before noon, and to the posting inn shortly after.
With Prue off somewhere on an errand with her sister—Miss Hope had not been forthcoming about what and where—David was in no hurry to go home.
“I am not going to bother to head to Chelsea, Gren. I need to catch up with what has been happening in London.” David had undoubtedly passed several reports heading north, as he and Gren headed south, but a visit to his usual coffeehouse would put that right. And he should check in with Lady Georgiana and Rede too.
“May I come with you?” Gren asked. He had been quieter and quieter as they approached London, and was not looking forward to the scold he was sure was waiting, even though he’d engineered it himself.
“Better get it over with, Gren. If you want my advice, I would say go and see the man. Don’t come with me. Don’t even go back to your apartment. Go to Haverford House and face the man before he has time to summon you. With luck, he’ll exile you to get you away from my evil influence.”
If David’s luck was bad, His Grace of Haverford would make another attempt to destroy his unwanted bastard, for the same crime of showing an interest in one of the legitimate Haverford offspring, but David wouldn’t burden Gren with that concern. His Grace had never succeeded in the past and would not succeed now, but outmanoeuvring the old devil would be a nuisance.
“I’ll come and have dinner with you.” Gren’s brow furrowed. “If I can.”
“I’ll go to Jasper’s. You find out if His Grace is home and will see you. And then join me.”
“If I can still walk, once he has finished with me,” Gren said, dolefully. “Don’t wait for me, David.” He set off to the Haverford mansion, trailed by a man from the posting inn, who he paid to carry his bags.
David picked up his own bag and made his way to Jasper’s, the coffeehouse that was his office away from home. Before long, he had his first response to the messages he sent with the runners the coffeehouse kept to serve its patrons. One by one, the men and women who watched and followed and listened at his command—and for his coin—arrived to tell him what had happened while he was away from London.
Tiverton was still acting the model hussar captain, attending to his duties and staying in the officers’ mess when not on duty. The watcher confirmed he was courting the daughter of his commanding officer, and seemed to be sincere. Unlikely, David thought, and hoped the officer kept his daughter closely guarded.
Lady Georgiana had been to Wind’s Gate, her father’s seat, for Easter, but was now back in London. She had not been in Society since the death of Miss Diamond, and the ton was abuzz with speculation about what that meant. Her brother, the Earl of Sutton, had been heard berating her for making a fool of herself.
David’s informer had been listening to servants’ gossip, of course. Sutton was an oaf, but would treat his sister with cold courtesy in public. However, to Sutton and his ilk, only those of their own class were human. He would no more restrain himself in front of the servants than he would in front of his dogs or furniture.
Talbot had continued his routine. Nothing of interest there. Perhaps he was not the ‘T’ of the letter? The tax fraud on the Baltic wood was interesting, but probably not relevant. David toyed with dismissing the watcher. No. He would pay for another day, at least. And he would see what Lady Georgiana thought before he gave up on the suspect.
A message to her house and another to Rede had both failed to reach his clients, who were from home. He had announced he was back in London and asked for an interview, and would no doubt hear from them soon.
The last of the London suspects in Rede’s case had been cleared. Rede’s murderers were not in London and not in Liverpool. David’s agents in Bristol had narrowed the field to three men, all partners in the same firm. David’s smile was a fierce stretch of the lips: a hunter’s anticipatory grin. He wasn’t ready to call the job done, but the quarry was in sight.
Jake wandered in next. Annesley and Selby had arrived back in Town late last night and spent the night at Selby House. After rising late, they had headed off to the barracks of Tiverton’s regiment, and were there yet. Bert was watching, Jake assured David, but they would both appreciate a day off, if it suited Mr. Wakefield. Fair enough. David arranged for another pair to take up the watch for two days, and Jake ambled off with them to relieve Bert.
By now, several hours had passed and Gren had not arrived. David left his bag and a message with the proprietor. There was one man with whom he’d like to talk who was almost certainly at his club.
Tolliver greeted David without surprise. “Shadow.”
David took the chair on the other side of the small table where Tolliver’s brandy glass sat. “Tolliver.”
“Did you find what you were looking for in Liverpool?”
“Did you know about Prue’s… Mist’s daughter? Yes. Of course you did.”
“Ah. She has told you.”
“I don’t understand, Tolliver. How could you take a lady away from her baby? Give her such dangerous work.”
“Mist has talents I need, Shadow. And I pay her well, which helps with the child.”
“Your nephew’s child. He could well afford to support them.” David’s voice vibrated with the anger that surged every time he thought of Prue’s seduction and its aftermath.
Tolliver met his glare calmly. “You would need to discuss that with Mist.” In anyone else, the sudden downward look, the twitch of the hands, would show uncertainty, but Tolliver was never uncertain. “I believe that Al… the person you refer to does not know the child exists.”
“If Mist did not tell him, then you could have.”
Tolliver shook his head. “I would not so betray her. She has a right to make her own choices, Shadow.”
He was right. It was frustrating, but he was right.
“This business with Selby…” Tolliver shook his head. “It complicates things.”
David was distracted. “Selby?”
“The bigamy. I have told Mist she is to take as much time as she needs to settle her sister somewhere safe.”
“Yes, of course.” The conclusion was unmistakeable and set David’s heart singing. Tolliver had seen Prue. She had been in London, perhaps was here yet. “The enquiries you need to make do not need her special skills. I would be happy to…”
“No need, Shadow. I am closing the investigation.”
David opened his mouth to protest, but Tolliver kept talking. “I have not found the Frobisher woman, but I am satisfied she was the spy, and that she killed her partners. I have men looking for her and do not need your particular talents.”
“But what of the blackmail? And Selby and his friends?”
“The women were blackmailing secrets out of those they bedded, of course, as we thought. That embarrassment has been eliminated. And as to the Earl of Selby, he will need to be dealt with, but now that we know his secrets, his fangs are drawn, I think. Yes. This could work well.” Tolliver looked off into the far reaches of the room, and one corner of his mouth curled up. Whatever the bastard was plotting, David wanted no part of it. He made one more attempt.
“Hurley is almost certainly out of it. But Selby is up to something with Annesley and Tiverton. Something for which they need naval stores. And Talbot is not to be trusted.”
“None of this is your business, Shadow, but I will take what you say into account. Give my regards to Mist.”
“When I see her,” David agreed.
“You have not yet been to your town house? I believe Mist is staying there with her sister.”
As Tolliver undoubtedly intended, that ended any further discussion. Prue was at his home. He could be with her within the half hour. “Then, if we are done here, I shall take my leave, Tolliver.”
Tolliver inclined his head, and David hurried out into the late afternoon to fetch his bag.
Gren was waiting for him at the coffeehouse, and not alone.
“Wakefield,” the Marquis of Aldridge said, his eyes wary.
David did not trust himself to speak, but he managed a brief nod.
Gren looked from one of his brothers to the other, opened his mouth, and clearly thought better of saying anything.
After a moment, David broke the silence. “Well, Gren? Was His Grace there? What did he say?”
“I am being exiled to Margate,” Gren said mournfully. “His Grace said I was wise to leave London, even if I could have better chosen my company, but I have come back too soon, before the talk has died down. Aldridge has been appointed my warden, to deliver me to Margate and make sure I stay there.”
David had not taken his eyes off the marquis, who continued to watch Gren, saying nothing.
“I am sorry, David. I know I promised to help, but…”
“Are Selby and his crew stirring up the rumours?” David asked Aldridge.
“Someone is. Friends of mine are looking into it.”
“Tolliver?” Gren’s ‘Uncle Tolly,’ who wanted to draw Selby’s fangs, and whose allegiances were murky?
Aldridge turned his head and met David’s eyes. “Not Tolliver. I don’t trust him, Wakefield. I don’t know who he really works for, or what he really wants.”
The moment of accord was disconcerting. David did not want to agree with the man on anything. He managed another curt tip of the head.
“When do you leave?” he asked Gren.
“At first light. And I am under house arrest as we speak, but Aldridge was good enough to let me come and explain. Will you tell Pr… Will you tell our friend I send my regards?”
“I will do that, Gren. Travel well.”
Aldridge started, “About Prudence—”
“No.” David did not want to hear anything Aldridge said about her.
“Whatever she told you, Wakefield…”
“I said ‘no.’ Just leave it, Aldridge, unless you want your smug nose rearranged.” Which would not be enough, and if David let out the violence seething within, Aldridge’s nose would be the least of it. Aldridge must have read something of that in David’s expression, because he stepped back before saying, “I did not expect to see her at your house.”
“You saw her? When?”
“Yesterday. I left a message for Jon. You did not get it?” Aldridge looked at Gren. “I thought that was why you came to see His Grace.”
Gren shook his head. “David said I needed to face him.”
Aldridge gave a derisive snort. “And David, of course, knows what is best for everyone.”
“It is best for you, Aldridge, if you leave now,” David told him coldly. “And if you have insulted Prue—again—Margate will not be far enough.”
“Wakefield, you have to listen to me.”
“Go away, Aldridge.” David turned his shoulder to him, deliberately, and held out a hand to Gren. “Travel well, Gren. Keep out of trouble, if you can.” He forced himself to speak politely to Aldridge.
“Can I have a private moment with our brother, please?”
Aldridge narrowed his eyes but withdrew to stand by the door.
“Gren, about what we discovered in Tidbury End, promise me you’ll say nothing to Aldridge.”
“Does he not have a right to know about his own daughter, David?”
“If he does not already know, it is Prue’s right to tell him, surely.”
Gren looked uncertainly at Aldridge and thought for a minute, but nodded.
“Yes. You’re right. I will say nothing. But I think she should tell him. I am sure he does not know, David. I know of two mistresses he has paid off and settled with husbands when they had his child. He would not have—”
“Prue was not his mistress,” David interrupted.
Gren shrugged. “If you say so. He still would have supported his own child. He is not our father. But I will keep my mouth shut anyway.”
“Travel well, you young scamp. And return safely.”
Gren grasped his hand firmly, the two young nobles left, and David found a hackney to take him to Chelsea.
All the way there, he worried. What had happened between Aldridge and Prue the day before? What had the young marquis been trying to tell him? Prue would explain. He would tell her he knew about the child, Antonia, and it made no difference to his regard for her, and she would decide to trust him and tell him everything.