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It was still too soon. Better to eliminate the competition first in all respects, leaving Eden free to choose and Sir Geoffrey with no other immediate option. It was well into the Season now. If Eden didn’t soon become engaged, she would have to return home and very likely wait another year.
After bidding farewell to Eden and her stepmother, he went to see Loxdon. The man had not sent word of any news concerning Rowell and the missing Abigail, but he wanted to check in with him, anyway.
Fanny had been safely relocated with a local family in his debt until her sister could be found. He would’ve sent her to Raquel—Miss Trouvère, he corrected himself for the thousandth time—but there was too great a danger in settling her there without Abigail to anchor her. If she ran away with knowledge of the school and its origins and fell into the wrong hands, there would be no end of trouble.
“There is little activity to report.” Loxdon’s manner was apologetic as he made a place for his guest to sit amid the clutter in his office. “Rowell’s been sitting tight for some time, hardly putting his nose out of the door. It’s almost as if he knows he’s being watched, though it can’t be so. My men are the best. Not even you would know it if they were to be set on you.”
“I don’t doubt it. Keep at it. His nervousness may have nothing to do with us. Something else may have happened to make him fearful.” He hesitated to ask, but there was no other way, really. He needed information. “I have another job for you.”
Loxdon looked up from the papers on his desk. “Oh?”
“Lord Ravenwood,” Percy said, keeping his voice low. “He has begun pursuing Miss Eden Lowther, the lady I intend to make my wife.”
His friend’s bushy black brows rose. “I’d heard you were thick, the pair of you. I’d not heard you had a rival for her affection.”
“I don’t.” Percy favored him with a grim smile. “She wants none of him, but the man still insists on courting her. He has her parents’ support.”
“And you don’t.”
It rankled mightily, but he could only nod agreement with the unpleasant statement of fact. “Her stepmother fears my reputation—not without reason, I comprehend, but her insistence on thwarting me is most unfortunate. Miss Lowther and I are ready to marry, yet she wishes her father’s blessing. Without her stepmother’s agreement, I don’t believe he’ll give it. She won’t elope for fear of the scandal’s effect on her family’s fortunes.”
“Mothers-in-law,” snorted Loxdon, shaking his head. He took a deep breath and pulled his pipe from a coat pocket. “Right, I know Ravenwood well enough. You’re not the first to inquire after him.”
Percy frowned at this. “Who else has been asking?”
“Lady Billingsley had me look into the gentleman’s affairs last Season when he made an inquiry concerning her daughter.” Loxdon knocked the pipe on the side of his desk, scattering ash and half-burned tobacco leaves onto the piles of paper stacked on the floor. “What I managed to turn up on the fellow was enough to send her into a hysterical fit.”
“What did you discover?”
“A penchant for gaming hells and the frequenting of a certain bawdy house serving only such as have a preference for the lads.” The man’s nose wrinkled as he stuffed fresh tobacco into his pipe. “There were a few other less-than-savory items of note, but that one was enough to stop all negotiations for the match.”
Percy’s own nose pinched with distaste. “One must assume he paid handsomely for Lady Billingsley’s silence, else it would be all over London. Does he know how she learned of it?”
“It wasn’t the first time she’d hired me. She only takes the best, and everyone knows I am the best.” A feral grin spread across Loxdon’s face. “I doubt very much your lady’s parents know about him. Might be interesting for them to find out.”
Interesting wasn’t quite the word he was thinking of. “Mmm. But getting such information to them might prove challenging. It’s my word against his unless I present them with the proof—which I would prefer not to do, as it would reveal our association and potentially lead to the exposure of our joint endeavors.”
“You could always bring it up to Ravenwood in, ah, private. I cannot imagine him denying you anything in order to guarantee your silence. Even a hint of this could ruin him. You don’t have to reveal your source.”
“Extortion,” he murmured. “I dislike resorting to such base means of persuasion—but I’ll not discount it. The danger is that if I do so, he might do a little investigation of his own. I’ve been careful, but any information is available for the right price. Were he to expose my involvement with the school—”
“Through which only good has been done,” retorted Loxdon, pausing in the act of lighting his pipe.
“Yes, but I doubt Eden’s parents would approve. No. I’ll wait to use this knowledge until uttermost need requires it. Hopefully, I’ll be able to persuade Ravenwood to leave Eden be and win her parents’ acceptance without using it.”
“If it comes to it, I’ll be happy to testify on your behalf.”
Percy smiled at his friend through the sweet haze of smoke. Loxdon was a good fellow, one of the best. “I’ll hold that in reserve. I may one day need your testimony, though I hope not for a very long time, if ever.” Flipping out his watch, he checked the time. “I’m going to be late,” he muttered, not looking forward to his next errand.
Bidding Loxdon farewell, he turned his thoughts and his path to the widowed Lady Sotheby, who’d written again of her—their—daughter’s desire to see her “Uncle Percy” for her sixth birthday. He’d put it off for as long as possible, but the time had come. The visit with Lillien would be bittersweet, as always.
The visit with her mother would likely prove bitter only.
Now there was one lady who didn’t take a re
fusal well. He deeply regretted their brief affair. He wasn’t the only one to lament an association with her, either. Of her five children, only the first had belonged to her husband. The rest had all been fathered by different men, Lillien being the last.
Today’s call must be perceived as one made only out of respect for the deceased Lord Sotheby, a courtesy paid to his widow. The portfolio he carried contained several financial documents she’d presented as an excuse to garner his last visit. The matters they represented could have easily been dealt with by a solicitor—in fact he’d had his own attend to them—but at least it provided a legitimate reason for him to darken her doorstep.
