Chapter Fourteen
Later that night…
J edi Danaher stood in the parlor of the Earl of Darrington’s garish flat. “I’m here as arranged. What have you got for me?”
“Right to the point,” Darrington chuckled. “Sit, man. I will not bandy words standing in the parlor like gossiping ladies at a tea party.”
Jedi looked about and plopped into the nearby wing chair. Darrington sat across from him, groaning as he took his seat.
“It took some doing, but I found some interesting information regarding the Addington barony. I had to contact—”
Jedi held up his gloved hand. “I don’t give a flying shite how you gathered the facts. Just give me the pertinent points.”
“You are an ill-mannered Irishman, I must say,” Darrington sniffed. “But you always were.”
“In the business we’re in, politeness is not needed. Stuff your parlor manners.”
“All right, then. I was shocked to hear just how robust the Addington fortune is. You would never know it from that shabby residence the old baron shut himself away in. Barely a step above middle-class. But the estate’s worth? We are talking a few hundred thousand pounds. Can you believe it? I was told ‘the low six figures, nearing the middle six figures.’ It could be anywhere from two and a half to four hundred thousand pounds. I am all astonishment.”
Jedi was also stunned. That greedy old muckshite of a father had given him only a couple of hundred pounds when, in actuality, he was swimming in obscene wealth. All those years ago, Gilbert Addington could have offered Jedi a proper upper-crust education and the upbringing to match it. Yes, the old baron had given money to Jedi’s mother, but they’d lived on a precarious edge between the lower middle class and the upper end of the lower classes. His mother often took in sewing and the like for extra money. And that miserable git had money to burn? The shock turned to annoyance, bordering on rage. But he would not show Billy Buck what he was feeling.
“What else?” Jedi ground out.
“Travis Addington, the new baron, is staying at his previous address, at 7 Carol Street in Camden Town.”
A smile tugged at the corner of Jedi’s mouth. Now that he had the exact address, he could plan his next move. Jedi was owed part of the barony fortune. So, he would seek out the current baron. He didn’t care about the legal aspect; morally, he had the right to some of that money.
“The talk is,” Darrington continued, “he is there preparing the property to sell. I also heard about a temporary estrangement between him and his new baroness, but who knows if that is true? Besides buying a fancy carriage with two matched grays, he hasn’t spent much of his fortune except on a large marriage settlement. I could not discover the amount. He married Viscount Rothley’s daughter, Corrine. The viscount and his family have teetered on the edge of financial ruin for years. Rothley is a profligate wastrel, as he was when I knew him in his younger days. Always in debt.”
“So the younger baron bought himself a wife,” Jedi murmured.
“So it seems. Some years ago, I thought to join my family to Rothley’s in a match between my son, Troy, and Rothley’s daughter, but I’d be damned if I would take on his crippling debt.” Billy Buck groaned and rubbed his ample thigh. “This damnable weather makes my bones ache like the very devil. Are we square now? My son told me of the incident that led to your supposed death.” Darrington narrowed his eyes. “A good thing you released Troy when you did, or I would have got to you before the Wollstonecrafts.”
Jedi did not doubt it, which is why he’d let that sniveling pustule of a viscount go instead of holding him for ransom along with Viscount Tensbridge’s younger brother. What did it matter now? Jedi only cared about the present and ensuring he had a comfortable future. “Right, whatever you say. Anyway, we’re square. I’ll send word when I’m back in business.”
“Make it quick, mind. Or I will go to Lucian Sharpe.”
Jedi stood and quit the room. Once outside, he pulled the hood over his head. No use shillyshallying—he might as well visit the new baron now. Who cared if it was near ten o’clock at night? He waved at a hansom cab and climbed in when one pulled up beside him. “Seven Carol Street.”
He arrived twenty minutes later. After paying the driver, Jedi immediately walked up and bashed on the door. It swung open, and he came face to face with the baron. “Well, hello, cousin,” Jedi said.
“The hooded man. My wife told me about you. What do you want?”
“I don’t do my business on the street.”
The baron looked down his nose. “And I do not let strangers into my house.”
“I acknowledged you as a cousin. Aren’t you curious why?”
After a few moments’ consideration, Addington stepped aside to allow him to enter. Jedi entered the hallway. “Any servants about? They always listen in, the bloody bastards.”
“No. The maid has left for the day. Let’s go into that room, the one to the left.”
Jedi entered a modestly decorated sitting room or parlor and then sat. The baron sat opposite him.
“I know who you are. Jedidiah Danaher,” Addington stated. “Gilbert left me a private letter with his will. You are his illegitimate son and the bane of his previous existence. My cousin said in his letter that you would look for a handout from me, as you have done from him your entire life.”
“And who have you told about the letter?”
“No one. Not even the solicitor knew the contents.”
Jedi’s blood boiled, but he understood he had to stay calm. “I came to that sorry excuse of a man twice in the past forty years. After my mother died, he tried to put me in a foundling home to be hired out as cheap labor to whoever would pay. Feck that. I make my own way.” Jedi lowered his hood. “See these scars? I earned every one of them out on the streets. I’m not a man to be crossed.”
“So Gilbert said in his letter. He had you investigated, so he was well aware of your criminal enterprises. He also advised me not to pay you any extortion, should you turn up.”
“Like a bad penny, yeah? Well, I had the barony investigated. You have hundreds of thousands of pounds that the miserable old sod tucked away. And some of that is mine. I deserve it. And so, I’ve come to collect.”
The baron blinked rapidly, then laughed. “I think not.”
Jedi flew out of his chair so swiftly that the baron gasped. He closed his hand around the man’s neck and clasped it tightly, causing Addington to wheeze. “You will not mock me or dismiss my request if you want to live. After all, you have a pretty new wife. Maybe I should visit the baroness and show her what a real man is capable of.”
Addington struggled but to no avail. Jedi gave one last squeeze before releasing his grip. Addington rubbed his neck as he coughed and sputtered.
Satisfied he’d gotten his point across, Jedi took his seat. “Now, let’s discuss terms.”
Addington glared at him, still rubbing his neck. “You’re to stay away from my wife.”
Jedi folded his arms. “Then pay me enough to stay away.”
“Any amount I give you will never be enough. You will always come crawling back for more,” the baron rasped.
Jedi shrugged. “That is a risk you will have to take. I won’t be greedy and take it all at once. I’ll come to you when I need it. Or better yet, let’s start with a monthly stipend of a thousand pounds. You can pay me now.”
“I do not keep money here,” Addington retorted.
“I know toffs keep stashes of pound notes in hidden safes. I bet old Gilbert did as well. Maybe we should head over to Wimpole Street right now.”
“No. I do not want my wife to know about any of this. Allow me to make arrangements when I know the baroness will not be at home.”
“I don’t want any servants about, either,” Jedi demanded.
“That will take some doing. I need time.”
“Don’t try to stall.”
“I’m not. I need to make arrangements. And I do not like the idea of a monthly stipend. It is too complicated to arrange meetings. Why not a yearly payment? I will make the first fifteen thousand pounds. What say you? We can negotiate further payments then.”
Jedi eyed the baron shrewdly. He didn’t trust this aristo as far as he could toss him. But fifteen thousand pounds was a good start. Then he needn’t see this arrogant bloke again for a whole year. “I agree.”
“How do I get word to you once I make the preparations for the meeting?”
Jedi thought for a moment. Where indeed? Perhaps it was time to come out of the shadows. “I will send a note to this address when I make arrangements on my end. Listen up, cousin. This had better not be a trap. Call in the coppers or anyone else, and I will pay that visit to your pretty wife. And she won’t be so pretty when I finish with her. You follow?”
“Yes. Your threats are crystalline clear. I do not have as much money as you were led to believe, however. Most of it is tied up in ironclad investments that I cannot withdraw from. I also just lent my father-in-law a large sum. My cash reserves are not endless and I will not allow you to bleed me dry.” The baron crossed his arms defiantly.
Jedi stood. “I won’t ruin you. That’s not to my advantage. I’m the baron’s son, and it’s past time I received my share. See to it. We’re to meet at Wimpole Street, nowhere else. And you will hear from me very soon…Travis.” Jedi laughed as he exited the room and out the front door.
Things were finally looking up. Speaking of illegitimate sons, it was time Jedi visited his own. Cillian, like the rest of London, believed Jedi dead in a pub fire. But he needed his son for his upcoming plans. With a low, raspy whistle, Jedi pulled the hood over his head and strolled down the walkway.