Matthew took his thumb out of his mouth. “Horses. This time, he had four, but the front two were the ones that always pull his carriage. I know them from when he came to call at the other house.”
Tony wondered how much reliance to place on a small boy’s observations. He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked into Harry’s face.
“Matthew notices things—and he really does know horses.”
Tony looked at David, who nodded, then at Jenkins, recovering in a chair. Jenkins nodded, too. “He’s very good about details, my lord. Excellent memory.”
Tony paused, then swallowed the curse that rose to his lips. Rising, he turned to the bookshelves behind the desk, scanned, then pulled out his copy of Debrett’s.
A tap fell on the door, then it opened. Geoffrey Manningham strolled in. Across the room, Tony met his gaze.
Instantly, Geoffrey came alert. “What? What’s happened?”
“Caudel has kidnapped Alicia.” Tony opened the book, swiftly flicking pages. He found the entry for Caudel. He read it, and swore beneath his breath. “Sir Alfred Caudel.”
He slammed the book shut. “A. C. Currently with the Home Office. From an old if not ancient family, his principal estate is in north Oxfordshire, near Chipping Norton, not far from the tavern where those letters from the French captains were sent.”
Geoffrey’s mouth had fallen open; he snapped it shut. “Caudel? Good God—no wonder he’s so desperate to scotch the investigation.”
“Indeed, and no wonder he knew so much about the investigation itself.” Standing behind the desk, fingers lightly drumming, Tony rapidly assembled a plan, checking and re-checking, mentally listing all the necessary orders. He glanced at the three boys, spared them a reassuring smile. “I’ll go after them.”
Geoffrey frowned. “You know where they’ve gone?’
“Maggs has them in his sights—he’ll send word as soon as he passes a hostelery.” Tony spoke to the boys.
“Maggs knows what to do—he won’t stop following Alicia. I’ll head out as soon as I know which road—Maggs and I have a system we’ve used before. It’ll work, so don’t worry that we’ll lose the trail.” He looked at Geoffrey. “I need you to get word to the others, and then wait here with Adriana, Miranda, and the rest—no need for vapors, I’ll bring Alicia back.”
Geoffrey nodded. “Right. Who do you want me to get hold of?”
Tony gave him a list. Dalziel first; Tony wrote a short note summarizing the evidence that Sir Freddie was A. C. He handed it to Geoffrey. “Give that to Dalziel—into his hand, don’t show it to anyone else. Use my name, that’ll get you through his pickets. Then go to Hendon House and tell Jack, then to the club, and tell the majordomo, Gasthorpe. Tell him the others—Deverell’s out of town but the other five—all need to know.”
While he’d talked, he’d risen and tugged the bellpull. Hungerford appeared; Tony ordered his curricle brought around with the bays put to. Without comment, Hungerford left.
Almost immediately he returned. “A message from Maggs, my lord, brought by an ostler from Hounslow. Maggs says it’s the Basingstoke road.”
Having assimilated the fact that Sir Freddie was A. C., which he verified beyond doubt by telling her the details of how his scheme had operated, and of how he’d worked since Ruskin’s death to turn all blame on her, Alicia still didn’t know the answer to her question. She fixed Sir Freddie with a steady gaze. “What do you plan to do now? What do you want me to do?”
“At the moment, nothing.” Reaching out, he lifted a window flap, glanced out, then let the flap fall and looked back at her. “We’ll be journeying through the night. When we stop to change horses, you’ll remain in the carriage, calm and composed. At no time will you do anything to attract attention. You won’t forget that your brother’s future lies in your hands, so you will do exactly as I say at all times.”
She debated telling him that Tony and his friends knew about Ellicot, but decided to hold her fire, at least until she knew more. “Where are we going?” Through the night suggested deep into the country.
Sir Freddie studied her, then shrugged. “I don’t suppose it will hurt to tell you.” His tone was cold, unemotional. “Given how forthcoming I’ve been, I’m sure you’ve realized by now that this last and, I fancy, winning throw of the dice involves your demise.”
She had, but refused to let it panic her. She raised a brow, faintly haughty. “You’re going to kill me?”
He smiled his chilling smile. “Most regretfully, I assure you. But before you waste breath trying to tell me such an act won’t get me anywhere, let me explain how things will appear once you’re no longer about to state your case.
“First, I’m aware of the activities of Torrington and his friends. They really are quite tediously tenacious. Ellicot was an obvious liability—he, naturally, is no longer with us. His family, however, are most likely aware that he had a sleeping partner, so I took care to remove all evidence of my association with him… and replaced it with evidence of your association with him.
“When Torrington and his friends look, they’ll find a circle of evidence that leads them back to you—where their attention should have stayed all along. I’m sure they won’t be happy about it, but they won’t have any choice in laying the blame at your door. I’ve become quite adept at bending society and the upper echelons to my bidding; there’ll be such irritation that you’ve escaped, your guilt will be established by default.
“Naturally, you won’t be there to answer the charges, which will only reinforce them. Your disappearance will be seen as an admission of guilt, one your supporters will be at a loss to counter. When your body is eventually found, as I’ll ensure it is, everyone will conclude that, weighed down with remorse, with the investigation closing in—something you would know with Torrington as your lover—with social disaster of ever-greater proportions looming over you and your precious family… well, you took the only honorable way out for a lady.”
She let contempt infuse her voice. “You said you know of Torrington and his friends and how tenacious they are. My death won’t convince them—it won’t stop their investigation, it’ll intensify it.” She was perfectly certain of that.
Sir Freddie, however, smiled, coldly condescending. “The key is Torrington, and how he’ll react to finding your dead body.”
She couldn’t stop her lashes from flickering.