Alexander heard his friend’s bitterness: Although his place in society had known a step upward, thanks to Alexander’s interference, like him, Lionel still knew a certain portion of regret at leaving behind loved ones to fend for themselves. Although Lionel had turned over most of his quarter pay to his brothers and sisters to make a better life for them, none of them could be saved. They spent the funds on foolishness and died of starvation and disease before Lionel could bring them to a better place. Such was the reason Alexander kept Lionel close, for they shared the experience of losing all they loved in this world. “I suppose we do not know what the paper held,” Alexander surmised.
“Know who dropped it,” Lionel said evenly.
Alexander sighed heavily. “You are quite maddening, you realize that, do you not?”
Lionel grinned widely. “Could be I have.”
“Out with it, man!” Alexander insisted. “Who, pray tell?”
“I waits in the park after the gel left. Wouldn’t be the thing to turn and follow her right away. So I waited on a bench nearby, pretending to enjoy the day by readin’ the penny press I carried with me. Soon a woman walks out from behind a stand of trees. A woman me and Xander know.”
“Someone we know?” Alexander asked. “A servant or a shop girl from somewhere nearby? Or someone from the streets. Not society?”
“Not society,” Lionel asserted.
Alexander inquired, “Someone from our past?”
“Seen her before. Some time back. With a man who appeared to be passing off a fake bank note. I think it be Erwin Albans, but I couldn’t be confident. They spotted me and turned away.”
“Who was the woman?” Alexander asked.
“Margaret Childers.”
“You think this has to do with the convertible value of Bank of England notes?” Duncan asked. “Such was not what we expected.”
“Why not?” Alexander asked. “We originally thought Honfleur meant to swindle members of society with his tales of a rich French marquessate in which they could invest. Flooding London’s streets with fake bank notes could spell a true disaster for the British economy.”
Duncan remarked, “William Pitt never handled the situation well, though his scheme likely saved the Bank of England back in the 1790s. Pitt kept public confidence in the circulation of paper money currency by claiming the Bank of England was actually still very affluent, but the suspension ofspeciepayments had been a temporary measure at the government’s request. None of you will recall when Parliament authorized the Bank of England to issue all notes in denominations of less than five pounds to ease the shortage ofspecie, for the public had been hoarding coins for years. If Honfleur is hoping to flood the markets with fake bank notes, it could mean a disaster in the making.”
“The Bank Restriction Act has been renewed again,” Thompson reminded them.
“But we are on the brink of war with America,” Graham countered. “Britain cannot afford to be caught with its trousers down when this happens.”
Thompson complained, “How many wars must we fight?”
No one answered, for they all despised the idea of more war, but, at length, Alexander said, “Margaret Childers has been suspected of passing forgeries in the past, but she was neverconvicted because those in the rookeries would consider her tricking a legitimate merchant a badge of honor, rather than a criminal act.”
“Then we must discover with whom Margaret Childers associates and whether her plans are small or large. Though, if she passed a message to Lady Caroline Moreau, the plans involve more than earning a bolt of cloth at a warehouse,” Duncan summarized.
Though her fathersaid he could meet with Theodora’s “brothers,” specifically indicating Alexander, at the Home Office, Dora had assured him that she and Lady Emma meant to attend an afternoon concert featuring a string quartet from the Continent. “The group is to perform for the King and Queen and Prinny this weekend. Lady Joseph is hosting them due to Lord Joseph’s place in the King’s inner circle. I thought it would be a good afternoon out for Emma. She must appear not to reject the ‘rules’ of polite society.”
“As long as you are not purposely avoiding Marksman,” her father said with a challenging lift of his brows.
“I am not. Emma says Marksman knows where I live if he wishes to find me. If not, someone else will,” Theodora told him.
“I am pleased Richard’s Lady Emma is proving to be a good influence on you,” her father assured as he kissed her forehead. “Enjoy your afternoon, my girl.”
The string quartet had completed its performance, and before polite applause could fill the air, Dora noted the efficiency of Lady Joseph’s staff. Footmen began to circle the room with steaming pots of tea and an excellent variety of small cakes, including Theodora’s favorite: lemon.
Though she had not viewed the stranger’s entrance, Theodora heard it. Assuredly, she did not hear the man’s actual steps, but the sigh of the women seated around her and the twitter of those across the room spoke of how something had changed.
A man Theodora had never viewed previously stood upon the steps leading to the room, and Lady Joseph rushed to greet him.
“Who is he?” several around her asked, though Theodora, uncharacteristically, had no response. Finally, Miss Jacobson said, “Lord Valentine Almano. He is supposedly a count from Europe who has business with the court. He is from Sardinia.”
While the others heard “European count,” Theodora heard “supposedly.” Sometimes she cursed how much of intrigue that she had learned at her father’s knee. Dora was not one to “ooh” and “aah” over anyone. “Except Alexander Dutton,” her mind announced.
The gentleman greeted Lady Joseph with a bow and a grin, and then permitted his hostess to escort him about the room for introductions. He crossed the patterned rug covering the floor with grace and ease. His thick, dark brown hair set off the features of a man the Romans would have proclaimed to be a god.
