Once they were all settled and the soup course had been set before them, Duncan asked, “What surprised you most today with the grand jury, Benjamin?’
He quickly wiped his mouth before responding. “From what I observed, the murder of the Prime Minister had little to do with politics or unrest.” He turned to Lady Emma’s father. “When you return to the Continent, Lord Donoghue, you must tell our allies what you observed today.” Benjamin added, “Hard to believe so much misery will be inflicted upon the nation simply because Bellingham was an unstable business owner who thought he might better succeed in Russia than in England.”
“I do not understand,” Marksman dared to admit.
Benjamin knew he frowned, but he had earlier taken note of Marksman’s absence from today’s hearing. “It appears,” he told their youngest brother, “Bellingham ended up in a Russian prison, for some offense no one explained. He applied to the British ambassador in St Petersburg, but was, for all intents and purposes, ignored.”
“I am often called upon,” Lord Donoghue explained, “to argue this or that in diplomatic circles, though I imagine a Russian court is moredifficult to satisfy than the ones in the Netherlands.”
Benjamin waited for the remove and another dish set before each of them before he continued. “Evidently, the Consul-General was equally unsympathetic with Bellingham’s request. Bellingham was released and returned to England. Where was it, sir,” he asked Duncan, “that he took rooms?”
Duncan supplied, “New Millman Street. Let rooms there and began, according to Hartley, a letter-writing campaign demanding redress. The problem was, even if Bellingham had a legitimate complaint, Britain must not speak too loudly against Russia’s decisions, for Wellesley requires the Russians’ assistance in this business with Napoleon.”
“So, they will hang John Bellingham?” Beaufort asked.
Benjamin found himself sighing in acceptance. In his opinion, there was too much death of late. He said into the room’s silence, “Naturally, the trial is not until tomorrow, but it appears inevitable. They brought a true Bill against the man for Perceval’s murder. The government will wish to make an example of Bellingham, while the populace will likely see him as a martyr.”
“Then the riots of those starving and the machine-wrecking Luddites and whatever plots others have envisioned had nothing to do with Perceval’s assassination?” Marksman asked.
“So it would seem,” Beaufort confirmed before Benjamin could respond.
Orson changed the subject. “I learned something of the mysterious count that Aaran mentioned on Monday.” They had all been put on alert by the Home Office of an unknown French man traveling to England, who had been considered a suspect in several misdeeds on the Continent. “The man turns out to be a French marquis, not a count, after all.”
“From whom did you learn this information?” Duncan inquired.
Orson grinned widely, and Benjamin suspected his oldest brotherhad an engaging tale to tell. “From Lord Godfrey,” Orson explained. “His lordship and I both returned to Madame Emmeline’s modiste to retrieve our ladies within a minute or so of each other. However, Madame Emmeline explained there was a slight delay. After congratulating me on my upcoming marriage to Emma, Godfrey began to claim his own personal triumph. It seems the Marquis of Honfleur will arrive in London in time to attend Lady Godfrey’s masque.”
“Has this marquis let a home?” Duncan asked, something Benjamin, too, wanted to know.
“Yes, the one belonging to Lord Amgen,” Orson declared with a smile. “Amgen lets the house regularly while he takes rooms in London for the Season.”
“Not the most fashionable address, but still respectable,” Beaufort remarked.
“Who else travels with the marquis?” Duncan asked as if he was already strategizing, which Benjamin suspected was true for his lordship: The man’s brain never took a rest.
“His daughter and his niece,” Orson confirmed, “but in accepting Lady Godfrey’s invitation, it will only be Honfleur and his daughter.”
“Why not the niece?” Theodora asked before Benjamin could do so.
“None of us know,” Orson explained. “Perhaps the niece is a poor relation serving somehow in the man’s household as a companion or something along those lines.”
“Richard, would you send what you learned to Hartley, so he might discover what he may from our contacts on the Continent? Where is the area known as Honfleur? Is it a stable area of France? How long has this man been the Marquis of Honfleur? Those sorts of inquiries.”
“Yes, sir. I understand.”
“I should do the same at the embassy,” Donoghue said, though few, especially Benjamin and possibly Duncan, thought the Britishembassy’s staff would be of much use.
Although none of them initially had planned to attend the Godfreys’ ball, within a matter of minutes, Duncan had presented his daughter orders to respond to the Godfreys’ invitation. They all knew, in hopes of learning something important, that one of them must attempt to woo the marquis’s daughter and perhaps another would approach the niece. Benjamin did not permit his eyes to meet Duncan’s, for such was not his forte when it came to investigations, but Orson, who often performed such duties, was engaged to marry Lady Emma. Moreover, Aaran Graham was deep in the Luddites’ investigations. That left Beaufort, Marksman, and him. Would Duncan permit Marksman to take part, and what would Theodora say about Marksman pretending to woo another woman?
Evidently, Theodora had figured out the same details as had he. She quickly begged her father not to expend all his energy at the ball, but she should have known when Duncan had made a decision, few could change his course.
“I promise to sit as much as possible,” Duncan assured. “I know my limits.” Theodora’s attempts had been cut short.
To distract them all from an argument, Benjamin said, “Speaking of limits, Duncan, did you notice your former nurse was in attendance at the trial today? She was with Sir Thurmond, who was in one of those wheeling-style chairs.”
“Mrs. Braylon? I did not,” Duncan responded.
“Thurmond was one of those on the committee with Sir Hunter,” Orson explained, “but he was not present on the day of the shooting. His horse threw him a week or so back, and he broke his leg, quite significantly.”
