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Containing a grimace, Samuel proffered his card.
“When she wakes, please direct her to me.”
The man took his card and, with no attempt to read it, tore it in half. “Ees mine.”
“I simply wish to speak with her about an acquaintance.” Samuel proffered another card, only to witness it come to a similar fate.
“An I said ‘ands off,” the man slurred.
Samuel considered stuffing a card down the front of Babette’s gown, but didn’t think decorum would prevent the man from fishing the rectangle back out and tearing it in half as well. He held up his hands again, empty of cards.
“Very well. My apologies.”
“That’s right.” The man drew his shoulders back so hard, he nearly toppled over backwards.
Shaking his head, Samuel turned away. Aware of many gazes on him, he strode from the gambling hell. At their meeting tomorrow morning, he’d suggest to Levington that they hire men to follow Babette as well.
Samuel made his way home and upstairs to change. It was early to dress for dinner, but his clothing reeked intolerably of tobacco smoke, and the cologne and sweat of other people. Leaving his poor valet to deal with the mess, and with no new books to read due to his ban from the Muses, Samuel retreated to the office.
He took the seat behind the elegant desk and tried to focus on the papers before him. There was no sense falling behind with the books. As an innocent man, he’d surely be found innocent. Furthermore, he and Levington would convince the judge that Richard’s crime, while reprehensible, had nothing to do with treason. That accomplished and Samuel’s life put back in order, he wouldn’t need a slew of outdated ledgers as his reward.
He finally managed the focus required to tally one of his neat rows of figures and went to make a note, only to find the ink had dried on the tip of his pen. He peered at it, taking in the hard glob. He’d have to trim it. He dropped the pen to the desk and his head to his hands, defeated.
“Samuel,” his mother’s voice said softly.
He looked up to find her in the open doorway, for he never closed his door while working. The staff knew he was at their disposal, should they require him.
“Mother.”
She wandered deeper into the room, looking about, expression a touch wistful.
“I’ve no memory of your father in this room. He never used that desk. His father did, but yours, well, he was more akin to Richard.”
She settled on one of the room’s two sofas, angled to look over the desk at Samuel.
“I’m making certain the ledgers are in order. You should have no trouble with them.”
After all, his mother had taught him the way of them, and then been happy to give them into his care.
She looked about the airy office.
“I didn’t think I should ever have to spend my hours here again. I’ve no desire to trade my teas and calls for tallies and ink-stained fingers.” Finally, she met his gaze. “You believe I will need to?”
Samuel pushed his glasses up on his nose. If either he or Richard were found guilty of treason, no one would need to, but if Samuel were merely convicted for robbing a member of the peerage, his mother, at least, might carry on. “They have a great deal of evidence pointing to our family.”
“But only Richard’s word that you are the guilty party.”
“Richard’s word and the public sentiment he’s stirred against me.”
She made a slashing gesture. “Public sentiment is not law.”
“Public sentiment influences the Crown, and the Crown will influence the judge.”
“But surely, if you refute the accusations, they cannot prove otherwise.”
Samuel shook his head. “The only way to refute them is by admitting Richard’s guilt.”
“Then you will do so.”
