Weldon's face eased, triumph coming into his eyes. "It's valuable enough." After a brief discussion to arrange the transfer of the money, he left.
Haddonfield stayed in the morning room, his gaze unfocused. There was something fitting about paying Weldon blackmail, for the duke deserved punishment. And since the money was going to Peregrine, at least it would be staying in the family.
At length he shook his head, and rose. God only knew what Peregrine was, but he could not be a worse husband to Sara than Weldon would have been.
* * *
Before leaving for Sulgrave the next morning, Peregrine visited Benjamin Slade and described the latest developments.
The lawyer's brows rose when he heard what had happened at the Sanfords' ball. "Was it wise to let Weldon know that you are behind his problems?"
"Not wise, perhaps, but essential," Peregrine said tersely. "What would it take to hang Weldon?"
Slade considered. "It would probably require ironclad evidence that he had personally murdered someone. But I thought you were more interested in killing him yourself than in having Her Majesty's courts do it for you."
Peregrine ignored the remark, though inwardly he decided that the people closest to him were beginning to know him too well. "Of the eight guards you hired for me, I'm assigning two to you personally. Take them along whenever you go out, and make sure that they stand watch in your house at night."
Slade was taken aback. "You really think that's necessary?"
"My guess is that before Weldon comes after me, he will try to remove pressure on the railroad. If he traces the lawsuits back to you, he might decide that killing you will help him and inconvenience me." Peregrine gave a sardonic smile. "The former assumption may be wrong, but the latter is certainly correct."
The lawyer's face shuttered. "Since you put it like that, I'll welcome the guards. Is there any chance that Weldon could eliminate both you and me, and get away with it?"
"No chance at all. I had a third set of copies made of the evidence we have on Weldon, and gave it to someone that Weldon will never connect with me. No matter what, he will be brought to justice for his crimes." Seeing Slade's expression, Peregrine continued, "Don't look so doomed. I am merely considering all possibilities. Weldon is not invincible. He is only a madman with a few thugs working for him. With luck, he'll never find you, and he may do nothing to you personally even if he does."
Then he turned on his heel and left, his mind already on what other precautions must be taken.
Across the street, a nondescript man had already learned from a shopkeeper who lived at that address. When Peregrine left, the nondescript man resumed following him.
That afternoon, a report of Peregrine's morning visit reached Charles Weldon. By luck, Weldon's railway secretary recognized the name of Benjamin Slade. A few more inquiries in different directions established that Slade was undoubtedly Peregrine's man of business. For a quiet man who worked from his home, Slade was surprisingly well-known in the business community. He was also respected to a point just short of awe.
As the pieces came together, Weldon rubbed his hands in satisfaction. Yes, luck was still on his side. In a week, he would have closed the book on Michael Connery, the fool who thought he could defeat Charles Weldon.
That night, two men broke into Benjamin Slade's town house. The intruders were in the process of starting a fire when they were surprised by two armed defenders. Shots were exchanged in the darkness and one of the intruders was wounded, leaving blood on the floor and the windowsill. Slade arrived on the scene in time to assist in putting out the fledgling fire, which did no serious damage.
Considerably disquieted, the lawyer sent a message to his employer first thing the next morning. Shortly after lunch, Peregrine arrived at Slade's house. After a guard let him in, Slade came into the hall to greet his guest, and was almost smothered when Jenny Miller hurled her small self into his arms.
"When she found that an urgent message had come from you, she bullied me until she learned what it said," Peregrine explained with a faint smile. "Then she wouldn't let me leave the house without her."
"Are you all right, Mr. Slade?" the girl said anxiously, scanning him as if looking for scorch marks.
"I'm fine, Jenny," the lawyer assured her. Dressed in the clothing Lady Sara had given her, the girl would not have looked out of place in the highest society. With considerable reluctance, he removed her clinging hands. Glancing at his employer, he said, "Did you wish to speak to me alone?"
"Jenny might as well come with us," Peregrine said dryly. "She'll just listen at the door if we try to exclude her."