Because of my trip, I was four days behind. “Have we notified the police of who was killed in Hounslow and who the target really was?”
Sir Broderick gave me a wry smile. “We have. The police have been less than pleased with our help. Our choices for attacker include the dukes of Blackford and Merville; the Earl of Waxpool; and Lords Naylard, Dutton-Cox, and Hancock. And then we found we could add the current Lord Caphart.”
I paused my teacup halfway to my mouth. “Lady Caphart was the one to sell Drake the cottage in Hounslow. Something new’s come out?”
“It turns out after leaving his wife Anne in prison and arriving in London, Drake went to work as a footman for the dowager Lady Caphart. She had inherited a few properties from her family as well as many works of art. Shortly before her death, she gave Drake the property in Hounslow and a couple of Renaissance paintings. He sold the paintings and bought his house in town. He kept the house in the Hounslow countryside for himself while he rented out the adjoining acreage to a nearby farmer.”
“And?” There was more. There had to be more.
“After Lady Caphart’s death, the current Lord Caphart found out his mother had given expensive gifts to a footman she hadn’t employed long and had a lawyer look into it. They lacked proof, but accusations of theft and forgery flew. Lord Caphart swore he’d get even, but he says he had nothing to do with the attacks on Drake.”
“What do you think?”
“Lord Caphart has been at his country estate until the day before yesterday, confined to his bed with pneumonia for the past four weeks. I don’t think his mind was on Drake.”
“Another possibility gone bad. I wish someone would slip up.” One day to go and we had no idea who was after Drake or why we were attending the ball. I felt the presence of a puppet master pulling everyone’s strings, but finding him was like walking in a strange neighborhood during a thick fog. I was unlikely to do anything but get lost.
Especially since I kept coming back to one puzzling suspect, one I didn’t want to consider. Blackford.
Sir Broderick started ticking our suspects off on his fingers. “Naylard doesn’t care that his sister converted. Blackmail over. Waxpool sent his son away to France and ended any possible embezzlement and the blackmail in a single day. The Mervilles are still paying blackmail over a child they don’t want society to know about, but Drake hasn’t proven to be greedy. They can afford it. Dutton-Cox married off his problem, and his son-in-law refused to pay a farthing.”
I remembered the scene when I learned about the Dutton-Coxes and felt my body overheat. Despite her large family, Lady Dutton-Cox seemed more alone than I was. She had everything but lacked what she wanted most. I pitied her.
“Georgia, you’re very red. Are you all right?” Frances asked.
“Probably just fatigued from my travels.” Then I recalled Viscountess Dalrymple’s confession. “The son-in-law refused to find out who was being blackmailed in private and Drake wouldn’t speak out in front of witnesses. Apparently, the viscount thinks what he doesn’t know is better for his marriage and his peace of mind.”
Jacob laughed. “It must be hard to blackmail someone when they don’t want to find out what you’re selling. Have we been able to confirm these stories?”
Sir Broderick said, “Some. We don’t have independent testimony to prove Merville’s willingness to continue to pay or whether Waxpool’s son embezzled from the family. The viscount, Dutton-Cox’s son-in-law, sent Drake packing from his club by ordering the doorman to throw Drake out bodily in front of a dozen witnesses. Naylard cheerfully admits to turning Drake down at his sister’s insistence while wondering if he should have, since he and Drake are friends. That young peer is hopeless.”
I waved at Sir Broderick as a thought struck me. “Have any of them been told Drake was killed or about his miraculous resurrection?”
“So far as we can tell, the only one who knows Drake might have been killed was the man who ordered his death.”
“So we still have Hancock and Blackford as suspects. And Waxpool has been lying to us.” I told them what I’d learned from Lady Julia Waxpool about her father’s secret and Drake’s blackmailing him with his incriminating love letters.
“Lady Julia is right,” Fogarty said. “As long as her father stays in France, nothing can be done to him here. By the time Waxpool’s son has to return, Drake may no longer have the letters or be in a position to use them.”
“Time may be against them. I’ve heard Waxpool hasn’t long to live,” Sir Broderick said.