Now it was Violet’s turn to smile. “I decided that particular portrait didn’t belong there. So I put it in a better spot—the scullery.”
James’s eyes went wide, and he laughed. “A good spot for that man,” he said lightly. “And I’m glad you didn’t climb up thatladder again. Although I must say, it wasn’t entirely surprising. I always find you in the most unladylike positions, don’t I?”
“I wanted to be a damsel in distress for once, I suppose,” she mused. “See if you were as good at being the white knight as you are at being the nagging husband.”
James’s eyes widened, and for a moment, he was too shocked to respond.
Is she flirting with me?
“I believe that the naggingwifeis the stereotype,” he finally said.
“Well, either way, you acquitted yourself admirably,” she quipped. There was a moment of silence, and then she looked away. “It is late, so I will let you go to bed. It has been a trying day.” She turned to go, but then she paused at the door, her eyes flickering back over his bed. “By the way, that looks nice there. Perfectly suited to the room.”
He followed her gaze to where the hideous portrait of the men playing poker hung above his bed. He looked back at her, and they both laughed. Then she disappeared into her room, leaving him feeling lighter than he had in a long time.
Chapter Eight
“Your Grace, two men from Scotland Yard are here to see you.”
James looked up from the ledger to see his butler standing in the doorway to his study. Behind him stood two men in uniform, looking around at the resplendent hall with awed looks on their faces.
“Right, send them in,” James instructed, rubbing his eyes and slapping his cheeks lightly to try and wake himself up. He’d been working for hours, and he was having trouble keeping his eyes open.
The two men from Scotland Yard were shown into the study, and the butler bowed as he shut the door behind him.
“Constable Grimms,” said the first man, who had a large mustache and looked about fifty. “And this is Constable Wales.”
“How do you do?” James returned, offering them both snifters, which they declined. “Do you have news about the dog fights, then?”
“Yes,” Constable Grimms replied, removing his hat. “And I’m afraid it’s worse than we have anticipated. The gangs that have control of that parish have set up a sophisticated operation. They’ve managed to keep a hold on the parish because they don’t allow any outside influence. Instead of bringing in dogs, which would mean coordinating with outside gangs, they breed them themselves. Those that are successful are shuffled between the different rings, while the ones that are not are… disposed of.”
“And are the locals involved in this?” James asked. “Or is it mostly just gang members?”
The two officers exchanged a glance.
“At this point, there isn’t much distinction between gang members and locals,” Constable Wales explained. “That’s what makes this operation so difficult to break up. As much as people might hate the fights, it’s where most of them make their livelihoods. Almost every family in the parish has someone involved in the fights. Even those who aren’t directly involved often profit from them, or at least the crowds that come in to watch.”
James sat back in his chair, thinking hard. This was worse than he could have imagined. He’d been hoping that the dog fights were controlled by an outside group of ruffians whom the locals would be eager to see thrown out. But if the locals were profitingfrom the fights, then that would make it all the much harder to shut everything down.
“I think I’m going to have to go out there myself,” he said after a moment. “Leaving this to the local constabulary will only breed more resentment. I need to go myself and see what needs to be done to ensure that the dog fighting stops for good and that the locals are able to pay their rent.”
“You should just toss them all in jail,” Constable Grimms said, shaking his head. “You can’t reason with these people. They’re just common thugs.”
James felt a flash of anger. As much as he hated the gangs that had infiltrated his land, he also knew that many good, hard-working people joined them out of desperation.
And if they’re so desperate that they’re turning to dog fighting, then it’s my job, as their landlord, to figure out how to help them.
“Thank you, that will be all,” James said coolly.
Constable Grimms looked a little put out, but he bowed and left, Constable Wales following in his wake.
James sat at his desk for a moment longer, thinking, then he stood up and strode into the hall.
“Summon my valet,” he ordered the butler, “and tell him to pack my things. I need to be ready to depart in the morning. And where are my wife and sister-in-law?”
“I’m here, James.”
He looked up to see his wife descending the staircase. Her face was stricken, and for a second, his heart seemed to stop.
