The Vanishing Thief(61)
“There’ve been developments?” Sir Broderick asked from his wheelchair parked by the fire.
I ran down everything new, from confronting Edith Carter, or Anne Drake, about her real name and marriage to Nicholas Drake to the fire at Drake’s house in Hounslow where he’d been hiding, and from meeting blackmail victims the Duke and Duchess of Merville and the Earl of Waxpool to the Duke of Blackford’s involvement in our attending the Duke of Arlington’s masked ball.
“Harry Conover. I’ll look him up again. When Jacob talked to Tom Whitaker, Drake’s other friend, he’d not seen Drake or Conover lately. Maybe Conover can tell us who Drake feared and what happened when someone tried to abduct him,” Adam Fogarty said, limping across the room to the fireplace, head bent in thought.
Sir Broderick caught my eye and winked. I knew Fogarty’s contacts inside the police force were valuable to the Archivist Society. Apparently, he was well liked by every constable and sergeant he’d ever worked with. Why the higher-ups let him go after he sustained his injury was a mystery he refused to discuss. If Sir Broderick knew, he wouldn’t say, and he wouldn’t allow the rest of us to ask.
“Find out what the police report says about the fire and the body,” Sir Broderick said to him. “I’ll have my man of affairs arrange a burial in the closest cemetery unless the widow has other plans.”
I felt heat rise up my cheeks. “With everything else, I haven’t told her yet.”
“First thing in the morning, Georgia. You can’t put a thing like that off,” Sir Broderick said.
“Do you want me to come with you?” Frances Atterby’s gray hair and ample bosom made her the perfect person for breaking bad news.
She’d spent decades working with her husband in their hotel before his murder. She’d developed a ready sympathy and an ability to talk to people that made everyone her friend. And I hated the bad-news part of the job. “Yes. Please. Thank you.”
“So,” Sir Broderick said, looking around at us, “who’s going to figure out what the Duke of Blackford is really up to?”
“The answer to that is at Castle Blackford, and none of us are going to have time for that trip until after the ball.” I looked around. “We need to attend Drake’s funeral at the very least. We need to find out what Lady Dutton-Cox is hiding besides a belief that her daughter was murdered. My guess is Drake stole letters from her daughter Victoria before she died, but neither Lord nor Lady Dutton-Cox seems at all concerned about blackmail or Drake. We need to find out the particulars of Lady Caphart selling or giving the house and land in Hounslow to Drake. Was she also a blackmail victim? And can someone attend the ball as a footman and bring a weapon? We don’t know what the duke plans, and I want to be ready for any eventuality.”
“You don’t trust him,” Sir Broderick said. He didn’t make it a question. He didn’t need to. I think he shared my suspicions.
“No. The Duke of Blackford is paying for our very expensive dresses, providing us with jewels and tiaras, and arranging for us to attend the ball. When I know why, then I might trust him. A little.”
Emma laughed. “Georgia, he might just fancy himself as your protector.”
I remembered his questions at Lady Westover’s dinner party about whether I was someone’s mistress and shuddered at the word “protector.” If he planned to make himself the protector of a trollop, he’d be sent away with firm words. If he wanted to extend his ducal protection to the work we were doing, that might be acceptable. As long as Blackford knew his bounds. I hadn’t taken orders from any man since my father was murdered, not even my fiancé, and I wasn’t about to start again now.
“We’ll get someone in as a footman to the Arlingtons’ masked ball. Who’ll look into Lady Caphart?” Sir Broderick said.
Emma raised her hand.
“Emma, check out her connection to Drake. Georgia, you’ve met Lady Dutton-Cox. Go back there and see what you can learn. And I’ll have my man of affairs sort out Drake’s funeral after I hear from Frances. Is there anything else?”
“One thing,” Jacob said, glancing around the room as if making certain none of us objected to him speaking up at a meeting. “Sir Broderick has me studying accountancy and I asked my tutor about the suspects Lord Hancock listed. He showed me how to look at public records about shares and companies.”
Jacob looked at Sir Broderick, who nodded. “The Earl of Waxpool’s son couldn’t have been stealing from the family. Their wealth has grown nicely each year for the last several. The earl has a brilliant mind for business. My tutor introduced me to his man of affairs, who was willing to tell me the earl is very hands-on. He won’t let his son, who has no interest in commerce, near any of the accounts. He never has let his heir have any role in their financial affairs.”