“And then he will come straight to the house and tell you that he’s gone to meet the baron at dawn and the fellow never turned up,” Juliet said. “Thatis the moment he will declare himself.”
“I have to think so,” Rosalind said. “I do not see why he would wait until the afternoon.”
“Then we must all be up very early on the appointed day,” Cordelia said. “You would not want the duke banging on the door and demanding admittance while you are still in curl papers and a nightdress.”
“Good thinking, Cordelia,” Rosalind said. “Now, we must just put this plan in motion!”
“You really have thought of everything, my dear,” Miss Mayton said. “I do not see any aspect of it that could go wrong.”
Rosalind sighed. Surely, this would do it. A man willing to fight at dawn for her must be a man who loved herandrealized he’d displayed his bravery enough to declare himself.
The door to the breakfast room suddenly swung open, startling them all.
The earl came in waving a paper. “My old friend Lord Cannerly, you remember I met him at Almack’s? He is having a dinner on the morrow. He’s invited me, Rosalind, Darden, and you too, Miss Mayton.”
*
Balthazar pondered thenote that had just come from Hamill.
Conbatten—
We have discovered why Mondrian, and I am now convinced it is in fact Mondrian, has been searching birth records. He looks for a lad of seven or eight years named Henry whose birth would have been recorded in one of the poorer parishes. The surname remains unknown, but this Henry seems to be a high value target that can be used for something.
My guess is that this is why Mondrian’s housebreaking operation has included making off with personal correspondence. He was hoping to uncover a scandal of some sort, and now he has done. I assume it is a child out of wedlock or one born with physical or mental deficiencies. If the child can be found, then the blackmail can commence.
This particular information Mondrian has got hold of was somehow uncovered in Kent, though we are not quite clear how or what house it was taken from. Though, it does indicate that Mondrian is on the trail of something he deems profitable if he has expanded operations outside of London.
Hamill.
That put a new wrinkle on things. Of course it must be Mondrian—your average thief did not have the wherewithal to search birth records nor know what to do with a letter outlining an out of wedlock pregnancy or a child born with an incurable malady. Mondrian understood who was who in society and what could be had with the right information in his pocket.
Mondrian also understood that the stolen letter as proof would not be enough, anybody could forge such a thing. No, he wished to get his hands on the boy, and likely prayed the boy was still alive and had not fallen prey to a childhood illness.
If the child were the offspring of a high-placed person, they would not have remained in the parish they were registered in.
An out of wedlock child would likely have been moved to the countryside somewhere and placed with respectable people. His school fees and upkeep would be paid through a solicitor. The boy would always be aware of the mystery of his past, but he would never discover the truth of it. Rather, he would go on to a trade of some sort, or perhaps become a schoolmaster or solicitor or physician.
If the child were afflicted with a physical or mental disability, then he was likely residing in one of the many private institutions set up to receive such children.
Whoever was involved in this, they would sleep well believing they’d done what was right. It was distasteful in the extreme, but not uncommon.
They would sleep a deal less well when they were blackmailed, though.
Balthazar had mixed feelings about working to thwart the matter. On the one hand, Mondrian must be stopped. On the other, a gentleman causing such a circumstance and farming its result out to somebody else to raise perhaps ought to be made to feel some pain over it. Or a lot of pain over it.
His cousin, Viscount Harebly, had been born with a terribly curved spine. He’d died of pneumonia at the age of twenty-three, but he had at least died at home. His father, the earl, had wished to place him in an institution as a baby. The countess had refused.
Though it was not talked about, and Balthazar only knew what had occurred from his father, when the earl attempted to take the boy, the countess had stopped him at the nursery door with a loaded fowling piece. She informed him that should he choose to take the boy when she was not there to protect him, the earl could be assured of being murdered in his bed.
That had been the end of the debate.
The countess had been right, of course. Harebly never rode a horse or boxed a match, but he was a keen mind and had been a great intellectual. He’d made vast improvements to his estate, leaving his younger brother in a very secure footing.
Henri bustled into his bedchamber carrying a coat and a box. “If you wish to wear the blue coat to Lord Cannerly’s dinner, I believe I have rescued it from its recent state of assault. I am being optimistic that the garment will be safer there than it was at Lady Hightower’s musical evening.”
Balthazar laughed and said, “I daresay it will be safe enough to wear to Lord Cannerly’s dinner.”
Lord Cannerly had a neighboring estate in Essex and had been great friends with his father. He was a jolly old fellow and Balthazar liked him very much. He had further to recommend him that he maintained a longstanding correspondence with Lady Hightower, so she would also attend this evening.
