Chapter Nine
Weston had beenhanded a letter as soon as he walked through the doors arriving home from Almack’s. Malberry said, “The fellow said he’d come a long way and it was imperative that you receive this letter instantly. He wished to go to Almack’s and find you until I was able to convince him he would not get through the doors.”
“Gracious,” Lord Ledderbey said. “I hope nobody has died. We know so few people, I cannot imagine who it would be.”
Weston asked Malberry for two large glasses of brandy for he and Lord Ledderbey, as they’d got nothing of substance at Almack’s. They proceeded into the drawing room and Weston tore open the letter. He glanced down at the signature. It was from Mr. Lawrence Cadwalker, the former secretary to Admiral Peter Parker.
Lord Tramondeley—
It is with urgency that I send this missive. As you may imagine, Admiral Parker had sources of information ranged all along the southern coastline. Some of these sources still send me information as we wait for a new admiral. I received an alarming report of a man, a foreigner, poking around your neighborhood. He was particularly looking for the sloop (which I gather he did not find) and asking questions about its owner and where that owner lived. As far as I know it, your good Cornwall neighbors gave away nothing and made his stay most uncomfortable.
The description of the man is that he is tall, dark-haired, angularfeatures, and has an accent, though it was not a French accent. The fellow who looks after your pier claims the man is from the continent somewhere and that he was very well-dressed. (Or as the man describes it, “A fancy type what don’t have no business here.”) It could be possible that the man was from Florence or Turin. Napoleon has pressed many citizens of the countries he’s invaded to cooperate or lose everything. On the other hand, your pier man might be mistaken, as he won’t have heard many accents in the course of his life. When I think about it, what strikes me is wondering who can travel round England so freely? He stayed at inns and did not hide himself. Does he perhaps have connections here?
I really do not know if that is the end of it or not. I cannot be certain if this foreigner was able to glean any information. I write to you to put you on your guard as the man has left the environs of Cornwall but did not comment on where he was going.
The only thing that relieves me at this moment is knowing you are far away in London. I will write again if I discover more about this man.
Lawrence Cadwalker, Former Secretary to Admiral Peter Parker.
He handed the letter to Lord Ledderbey, who read it with dismay. Weston rose and closed the curtains on the windows overlooking the square. He had the sudden feeling of being watched, though he knew it was his imagination.
Malberry brought in two glasses and the decanter of brandy and poured out generous amounts. Weston took his and drained it.
“Thank heavens we relocated when we did,” Lord Ledderbey said with a shiver.
“Yes, but I think it wise that we keep our eyes open. Malberry, arrange for some men to guard the house on a rotation, day and night. They can take shifts and share a room in the stables.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“That’s a good notion,” Lord Ledderbey said. “Gracious, a foreignerpoking his nose round our neighborhood in Cornwall. It is upsetting if I’m honest. He would have stuck out very noticeably too so he must not have cared about that. Can you imagine if… that is, the only foreigner we have encountered…”
“Is Count di Compressio,” Weston said. He’d already been thinking in that direction. Would it be too absurd to imagine it might be the count? He seemed a bit of a delicate flower to be employed by the French for such a thing. On the other hand, perhaps he just playacted to seem so. His family must be in a very uncomfortable spot with Napoleon just now…
“But certainly, he would not have—”
Weston shrugged. “We have to find it out, though.”
“I do not suppose he would tell you. In any case, it is far more likely he’s got nothing to do with it and you will have offended him for nothing. For one thing, he is here, not there.”
“But he might have been there and come back,” Weston pointed out. He tapped his chin, considering a way to confirm whether it was or was not the count poking around Cornwall. “I know what we will do. Malberry, find me some artists for hire. Artists that can sketch portraits. Do not bother with those that sketch landscapes.”
“Yes, my lord.”
“My dear boy, I hardly think you’ll be able to hire an artist who is willing to spy on the count to capture a likeness.”
“No spying required. We will host a party and the artists will be there to sketch likenesses as part of the entertainment. A small party, we will say it is very usual for Cornwall and we will keep all the sketches to have them framed. Then the artist can make copies of the sketch of the count. We can send some of those copies to Cornwall to discover if that is our man. I suspect the count will come to our party if he knows Lady Valor has been invited.”
“Very original notion. Yes, I suppose it could be done. Malberry, what say you? Are you up to locating several artists and preparing for a party?”
“Of course, my lord.”
“And just think, my boy, it might be very pleasant to have a sketch of Lady Valor. You might make a copy of her sketch too.”
Weston did not answer but rather poured himself a second brandy. It would be pleasant, though he found himself loath to admit it. He’d all along sworn he’d keep the duke at arm’s length, and yet he did not wish to keep his daughter at arm’s length.
He’d found himself exceedingly irritated by the count’s attentions to that lady. Though, his common sense told him he must be careful in his thinking when it came to the count. He could not condemn him on little evidence because he was unduly swayed by his personal annoyance.
Nevertheless, that fellow ought to steer clear of her. A match between them would not even make sense. The count might say he wished to settle in Hertfordshire and make himself a regular Englishman, but that was just for now. Napolean would be defeated eventually and then Weston had no doubt the fellow would hightail it back to Sardinia to lounge in the sunshine. Lady Valor could not like to be ripped from her homeland in such a manner.
