“The War Office is understaffed with
knowledgeable
people.” Coop padded over in stocking feet to the washbasin next to Ben’s. “You can’t imagine the silliness of civil servants. Sometimes I think they believe we are planning a picnic instead of trying to defeat the French. Liverpool is frustrated as well. The minister was railing to me just the other day,” Roger continued, “about how he needed men who understood the situation in Portugal working for him. I tell you, Whit, it is dire, dire indeed.” He took the linen towel offered by the footman and dried his hands before saying, “If you were of a mind to, we could use someone with your knowledge. Would you be interested?”
Would he be interested?
It took everything Ben had to not leap into his friend’s arms and kiss him for the opportunity.
Instead, Ben replied soberly, “I could be convinced.”
Coop’s face came alive in delight. “That would be capital.” He took Ben’s hand and shook it vigorously. “We need you, Whitridge. We
need
you. Come to my office tomorrow. Liverpool was here tonight, but he’s left. I’ll speak to him in the morning, and I’m certain he will want you on the staff. However—” Coop paused as if measuring his words. “—You may not want to say anything to your brother about this opportunity. Baynton and Liverpool are at cross-purposes right now.”
“I won’t whisper a word.”
“Good.
Good
. Tomorrow then.” Coop then groaned as rubbed a stockinged foot furiously against the calf of his other leg. “Damn it all,” he muttered.
“My man might have something that could help you with that,” Ben offered helpfully.
“Truly?”
“I believe so. He’s quite focused on feet. He says a good washing with a stiff brush will do the trick.”
“Stiff brush,” Coop repeated as if wanting to log the information into his memory.
“He may have other tricks,” Ben said. “I’ll have George talk to your man.”
“Thank you, Whitridge. Thank you, thank you.”
Ben said his good-byes then. He left Coop scratching away. He then took his leave of the Caldwells’ house. He’d wanted to find Elin and share the news of his interview; however, it would not be wise. Not yet. The next time he ran the chance of meeting Fyclan Morris, Ben wanted it to be on
his
terms.
George did have some ideas to share about Coop’s itch. The valet chattered happily away on the subject and remedies he had discovered until Ben ordered him out of the room. The next day, Ben was up early, too excited to sleep.
He didn’t share his plans for the day with his mother, and his path did not cross his brother’s.
At half past ten, he presented himself to Cooper’s office. Lord Liverpool was there as well. After a good two hours of meaningful discussion, Ben was proud to join the War Office as one of Liverpool’s personal aides.
Had the fact Ben was Baynton’s brother played a part? Liverpool did not mention the Duke of Baynton, but Gavin’s political presence was in the room.
For once, Ben didn’t mind. That he was related to the powerful Duke of Baynton was a reality. However, the cabinet minister spoke as if he wanted to know Ben’s mind and not his brother’s.
“I’d thought you hotheaded,” Lord Liverpool said. “However, right now, I need a man who understands the war. Your presence is fortuitous. Wellesley asked about you in one of his dispatches last week. He believes you are a good man. Prove him right.”
“I intend to, my lord,” Ben answered. With that, Ben was given instructions on reporting to Lord Liverpool’s office the following week, followed by a handshake.
“We shall do great things together, Whitridge,” His Lordship said, and left the room.
Coop was happy. “I don’t believe I’ve ever witnessed him taking two hours with anyone. He likes you. You will do well here, Ben. Very well.”
“I plan to do so.”
“Now,” Coop said, leaning on his desk, “have you told your man to be in touch with my man? My feet, Ben. My feet.”
“Have no fear,” Ben said, “George promised he has a few cures and should be in contact with your man even as we speak.”
“Bless you.”
Ben laughed and took his leave, deciding the time had come to turn his attention to solving the mystery of who had wanted to murder Elin.
Her father and his brother acted as if the attempt was of no consequence. Ben thought differently. Perhaps it all had ended with Darby’s death. Maybe she was safe. He needed to be certain.
Mulling over the matter, Ben decided to start with the dressmaker, Madame Odette.
Leaving Whitehall, he made his way to Bond Street, home of many fashionable shops, and, after a few discreet inquiries, discovered the location of Madame Odette’s. Her establishment was on a side street off of St. James’s, of all places. St. James’s was a busy thoroughfare but known more for gentlemen’s clubs than dressmakers.
Ben found her choice for the location of her shop curious. However, he did learn that she had been building a strong reputation and had several patronesses who were the wives of ambitious young men.
Ben could believe that having an account like Fyclan Morris’s would be a boon to her business as well as to her pocketbook. He wondered how Fyclan had chosen the woman’s services. Who had recommended her?
The mystery deepened when Ben found her shop and discovered it closed.
He peered into the dark shop windows. The place was deserted. There was furniture inside, but all was dark and, from what he could see, dusty. She’d been closed for some time.
Ben walked to the alleyway behind the dressmaker’s building. There was a sturdy wooden door and no window.
The door was not a problem. Glancing over his shoulder and seeing no one in sight, Ben gave a strong shove of his shoulder. The lock broke.
He slipped inside. The back room was a thin darkness. He let his eyes adjust. There were curtains with feminine stripes that separated this room from another. Long tables had been set up as workspace. Chairs were shoved to one corner. He could see signs that there had been sewing activity recently, but most of the dresses, material, scissors, and other sewing supplies were gone. What was abandoned was broken or useless. Certainly, he could see no sign of a thriving business.
Ben moved into the room beyond the curtains and looked into each of the dressing rooms. Again, there was nothing of interest.
He poked his head into the shop itself. The only item left was a small, dainty bell on a painted desk. It would have been used to ring for service. He could imagine how this shop must have looked with ribbons and fabrics on display. All was gone. There wasn’t even a ledger for him to explore in the desk’s drawer.
Either someone had thoroughly cleaned out the establishment, or Madame Odette had done it herself . . . which would make sense only if she wasn’t expecting to return.
Ben suspected the latter.
He walked toward the back of the shop, flicking aside the curtain out of frustration over the lack of clues.
Then again, the absence of any professional or personal belongings indicated the attack on Elin’s coach had been planned well in advance.
But where could Ben go from here?
Just as he was reaching for the door handle, he heard voices outside. He stepped back, listening—and recognized Gavin’s deep rumble.
The Duke of Baynton was right outside.
W
hat the deuce was his brother doing here?
The Duke of Baynton rarely did anything himself. He had servants and men like Perkins to carry out his wishes. Or was there a whole army waiting on the other side of the door for Ben? His brother was talking to someone. Ben couldn’t distinguish the words of their conversation. They were moving toward the door.
They were about to enter the shop.
Ben stepped back and leaned against the wall, letting the door shield him from view.
“Damn it all,” a male exclaimed. “Pardon me, Your Grace, for my temper, but the lock is broken.”
“So it is,” Gavin answered.
The door swung open. Gavin stepped into the room first. He paused and looked around, cautious. Ben could have reached out and tapped his brother’s shoulder if he so desired. Instead, he held still.
A narrow man with the air of business walked in behind him. “Whoever broke in was disappointed. Sally didn’t leave anything of value when she left. She was a wise one, she was. Always feathering her own nest.”
“Sally?” Gavin said, asking the question Ben wondered.
“You don’t think she was truly French, do you? I mean, she sounded the part and looked it. However, when she first rented from me three years ago, she was Sally Mays. She was from Devonshire. She did well for herself. Pretty girl with a skill for the needle. Hated me every time I called her Sally. She always corrected me, and I kinda liked it.”
The man was the landlord. Ben saw no sense in hiding. Besides, he would be discovered soon, so he shut the door.
Gavin did not act surprised to see him. “Here is your culprit, Monroe. My brother.”
“Your brother, Your Grace?” Monroe gave Ben a critical eye. “I see a resemblance, but why did he break into my building?”
“That is a good question,” Gavin answered. “Tell us, Ben, why break the lock when you could have knocked on Monroe’s door as I did and ask for his assistance?”
Ben had no answer for that, save to say, “I took matters in my own hands.”
“Send the bill for the lock to me, Monroe,” Gavin said in that tone that conveyed the burdens of a duke were many, a tone Ben detested.
“No, Monroe, send it to me and accept my apologies. If I had known you were such a splendid gentleman, I would not have damaged your lock.”
Monroe looked from one to the other as if he were trapped between two lions. “It will take nothing to fix. Why don’t I leave you both alone while I fetch a hammer. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” Gavin said at the same time Ben said, “Capital idea.”
The landlord ran.
“You frightened him,” Ben commented.
Gavin’s response was a ducal scowl. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”
“That is the question I have for you.”
“Your answer first.”
Ben struggled with the childish desire to argue the point, then he thought of Elin. Jousting with his brother was not finding the murderer.
“I came to discover what I could of Madame Odette . . . or as we now know, Sally. And you?”
“The same thing.”
“And you came
yourself
?” Ben said before he questioned the wisdom of speaking his wonder aloud.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Gavin threw out as he turned and marched through the curtains the way Ben had.
“Just commenting. After all, don’t you usually employ Perkins or a half a dozen other men like father did to ferret out information for you?”
Gavin practically flew back through the curtains. “Stop this nonsense, Ben. I’m not Father. I use Perkins because he is effective. He can discover more in an hour than I could over days of sleuthing.”
“Then why didn’t you send him?”
“Always challenging, aren’t you?”
“I’m my father’s son as well.”
Gavin swore under his breath, and it was at that moment, that Ben had a moment of recognition. Sniping at Gavin was not what he wanted. He held up a hand. “Listen, I’m sorry. My attitude is uncalled for.”
Gavin raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “What game is this now, Ben?”
“I’m being sincere.”
“Pardon me if I doubt your sincerity.” He charged back through the curtains.
“You won’t find anything,” Ben called out. “Sally was thorough, just as Monroe said.”
His brother didn’t answer but began opening and closing the dressing-room doors.
“I don’t blame you for distrusting me,” Ben continued, speaking to his brother through the curtain. “We haven’t been good friends.”
There was no response.
Ben plowed on, “We could probably solve the mystery of the attack on Elin if we work together.” He listened. Gavin was in the shop. “By-the-by, I have a position. I don’t know if you will be surprised or not, but
I
am going to be part of
Liverpool’s
staff.”
“Yes, I know,” came the bored reply. Gavin walked through the curtains, flipping them out of the way with the annoyance Ben had shown. “Liverpool told me.”
Anger surged through Ben. He tamped it down. He was to be a diplomat, and apparently must start by being diplomatic with his brother. “Is there anything you
don’t
know?”
The words still sounded biting, and they, of course, struck Gavin wrong. “No, that is my task in life, to know what my family members will not tell me.”
“Is there a reason you
must
know everything?” Ben asked, completely out of curiosity.
“I am the head of this family,” his brother stated as if that should say everything . . . and perhaps in his mind it did.
“Father indoctrinated you very well.”
“He
schooled
me in what I should know. Which, if I may remind you, is one of the reasons I had for ordering you back to London.”
“That and wanting to please Mother.”
“She likes you.”
“You sound as if you can’t fathom why.”
Gavin’s answer was a thin smile. He walked out the door. Ben followed.
Monroe was approaching with a hammer. He took one look at the two brothers and pivoted around toward the building he had just exited.
“We make him nervous,” Ben observed.
The duke shrugged.
Ben faced him. “Say it. Don’t hold in whatever is eating at your gut. I’ve been a bit of a bastard. I admit it. I’ve been headstrong and disobedient.”
“That is a good start.” There was no humor in Gavin’s voice.
“I’ve also been true to myself,” Ben continued. “And brutally honest. Can you say the same?”
“
There it is,
” Gavin said. “Always the criticism. Always the undermining—”
“I have never undermined you—”
“You always do. You wanted to surprise me with your news of Liverpool without understanding he would have come to me directly
before
he interviewed you. That’s the way matters work, Ben. I didn’t create the world. I just happen to be very good at operating in it.”
And he was right.
There was nothing Ben could say. He stood a moment, letting the tide of Gavin’s anger ebb a bit. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to be at cross-purposes with you.”
Gavin glared as if he spoke gibberish, then the wind went out of his sails as well. “I need a brother. I miss my twin. We were close although since he ran off, everyone supposes that we were at odds. Do you know how many times Father demanded to know what I’d said to Jack to make him want to leave?”
“Father would have been wiser to have looked in a mirror.”
For the briefest second, Gavin’s eyes looked watery, but he blinked any emotion back. After all, he was Baynton. “It is of no matter now.”
Ben held out his hand. “Brother?”
The air seemed to still between them.
Gavin frowned at the offered hand . . . then he accepted it. “Brother.”
“I shall need some practice,” Ben warned him. “We were never a close family. Even the concern from mother astonishes me.”
“Father was a tartar.”
Ben couldn’t stop a smile. “He was, may his soul rest in peace. But let’s not make the mistakes he did, Gavin.”
“An admirable suggestion . . . save for Elin between us. You saw her last night, didn’t you?”
“Was Perkins watching me?”
“No, I was.” He shrugged and amended his statement. “Elin disappeared for quite some time.”
“Did she say where?” Ben asked carefully.
“I didn’t ask. But you were there, weren’t you? You saw her.”
Ben didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.
“Elin probably believes I am oblivious to her. I’m not, Ben. I know what a remarkable woman she is.”
“That is the crux, isn’t it, Gavin? We want the same woman. You have her, and I love her.”
“I love her as well,” Gavin answered, but he spoke quickly and without conviction.
Do you even know what love is?
Ben wanted to fire back, but that would upset the fragile alliance between them. “Actually, she could use both of us,” Ben heard himself say. “Someone attempted to murder her.”
“I’ve had Perkins on it.”
“Has he learned anything?”
“Nothing. He has been here as well.” Gavin nodded toward the open shop door. “He told me the place was vacant, but I had to try. He also combed the wharves last night for word of—what was his name? The leader?”
“Darby.”
“Yes, Darby. Again, no information. The man hadn’t been seen with anyone other than his usual mates.”
Ben swore under his breath, then he remembered something. “I asked Elin who stood to gain in case of her death.”
“What did she say?”
“She was tired. We were on the move trying to avoid Darby and his ilk. At the time, she said she couldn’t think of anyone. If she was married, we would look at the husband.”
“Aye, because with her death, he would be a wealthy man.”
“So we know it isn’t you because you would be foolish to kill her before the marriage.”
“Thank you.”
“Anytime, Brother.” Ben took a few steps away, working the puzzle in his head, then said, “Robbie. Her cousin.”
“Robbie? He would only gain if Fyclan and Elin died.”
“Fyclan hasn’t been looking well.”
“No, his wife’s death almost destroyed him. Watching him has given me an appreciation for Mother’s strength. She carried on smartly after Father died.”
“Mother’s physician is attending him. What does he say?”
“He can find no cause other than deep grief. Frankly, he has been worried. He warned me that many men do not survive the death of a beloved spouse. However, last night, Fyclan appeared in better spirits.”
“Mother may have had something to do with that.”
Gavin chuckled. “She may have. She’s always been fond of him. It would make sense if a tendre sprang between her and Fyclan.”
“Why, Gavin, you are a romantic.”
His brother shook his head to deny it, but he was comical in his embarrassment.
“Don’t worry,” Ben told him. “Your secret is safe with me.”
“I don’t have a secret.”
Ben laughed, then stopped abruptly. “What if whoever attacked Elin was expecting Fyclan to die soon? Perhaps even be pushed in that direction by the murder of his daughter?”
“The man is only in his sixties.”
“Indulge me,” Ben said to his brother. “If we remove both Elin and Fyclan, then who gains?”
“Robbie. He is Fyclan’s only relative and, I assume, would be heir to his fortune.”
“
If
Elin died without a husband.”
Gavin frowned. “Here is my problem with your theory. Fyclan raised Robbie as if he were his own. He educated him. I’ve worked with him. I can’t see the man I know arranging for the murder of that many people. And why? He has been at Fyclan’s side all these years. Fyclan made him a rich man.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Of course, that might just be an impression. Everyone believed Father was wealthy as well.”
“He wasn’t?”
“He made bad investments. I didn’t know how disastrous the family books were until I inherited. Furthermore, Father spent money like a madman. Building the garden park at Trenton cost a king’s ransom. I had my hands full trying to right what he’d undone. Of course, Fyclan helped me.”
This was stunning news to Ben. He’d assumed everything his brother had inherited had been right and in order. “Had Fyclan suggested the bad investments to Father?”
“He knew nothing about them. However, someone must have talked to Father. He wasn’t one for dirtying his hands over such matters.”
The door to the building next to the dress shop opened, and Mr. Monroe, with a beleaguered expression on his face, came out followed by a well-endowed woman in a lace mobcap and fichu over her shoulders. The landlord still carried the hammer he was planning to use to fix the lock on the door.
“Your Grace,” he started, pulling his hat off his head in the manner of a supplicant, while the woman stood back, trembling with excitement, “this is my wife, Dotty. She has heard much about you, Your Grace, and I hope don’t mind, but she would like to pay her respects.” He lowered his voice, and said, “Please, Your Grace, help me. She can be as insistent when she wants something.”
Sounding confused, Gavin said, “Of course.”
He’d barely had the words out before Dotty came mincing forward. She curtsied and Ben was certain a finer curtsy had never been made. The woman almost brought her head to the ground and stayed there.
Embarrassed, Gavin said, “Please come up, Mrs. Monroe.” When she had difficulty, he did the gentlemanly thing and helped her.
Quivering, rapid breaths came from Dotty. She gazed at Gavin with nothing short of complete, loving admiration. “You are as handsome as they say, Your Grace. More so.”
“Thank you,” Gavin murmured, inching away from her.
“There now, Dotty,” Monroe said, “go on. I did what you wanted; now see to my supper.”
“Oh, but doesn’t His Grace want to ask me questions about the dressmaker? Isn’t that why you said he was here? Sally and I became friends of sorts for a while.”
Now she had both Ben’s and Gavin’s attention. “Close friends?” Ben asked.
“For a while,” she answered.
“What came between you?” Ben wondered.
“Oh, she took on airs. Dressmaking wasn’t her true business—”