CHAPTER TWO THE PROPOSITION #2
Hargreaves opened one of the files. “We have traced three payments from shell accounts connected to the Mercury Club. One reached a newspaper proprietor, one a bookseller and one a scholarly press.”
“Names?”
“The first two are still being verified. The scholarly payment went through an account managed by Lord Peregrine Vale.”
Julian’s jaw tightened. “Peregrine has access to government dispatch records.”
“And patronises classical scholarship,” Gabriel said.
“He also claims not to read Greek.”
“Most patrons of scholarship prefer books they cannot understand. It allows admiration without effort.”
Hargreaves pushed a document toward him. “The payment occurred two weeks before Dr. Finch announced today’s translation.”
Gabriel read the figure and date.
“Coincidence?” he asked.
“No,” Julian said.
Gabriel looked toward him. “You have become cheerful in marriage.”
Julian ignored the remark. “How much does Miss Finch know?”
“Enough to be dangerous.”
“Then keep her away from the club.”
Gabriel’s cup paused halfway to his mouth.
“That may prove difficult.”
Julian’s expression became colder. “Why?”
Gabriel considered several answers and discarded them.
“She asked me to prepare her.”
“For what?”
“The masquerade.”
Hargreaves looked between them.
Julian did not move. “What does preparing her entail?”
Gabriel lifted one shoulder. “She was not specific.”
“She is always specific.”
“Seduction lessons,” Gabriel said.
The room became silent. Hargreaves removed his spectacles and polished them. Julian stared at Gabriel with the grave concentration of a man deciding where best to conceal a body.
Gabriel added, “I refused.”
“Wisely.”
“I am touched by your confidence.”
Julian crossed the room. “Eleanor has already placed herself near men connected to Vesper because she believes being overlooked protects her. If the club recognises her, that protection ends.”
“She understands the danger.”
“Beatrice said precisely the same thing before entering Wexford’s study.”
“Beatrice also struck two men with a candlestick and threatened a duke.”
“She was abducted.”
The words landed without emphasis, which gave them greater force. Gabriel remembered Julian returning from the cellar where Beatrice had been held. He had been covered in another man’s blood and possessed the terrifying calm of someone whose violence had not yet ended.
“Eleanor is not Beatrice,” Gabriel said.
“No.”
“She is more cautious.”
“That is what makes her potentially more dangerous.”
Gabriel frowned.
Julian continued. “Beatrice rushes toward a threat loudly enough that one has time to follow. Eleanor will make a plan, tell no one until she considers it complete and enter through a servant’s door while everyone watches the front.”
Hargreaves replaced his spectacles. “An accurate assessment.”
“None of this suggests we should exclude her,” Gabriel said. “She can read the code. We cannot.”
“We can hire another scholar.”
“A male scholar?” Gabriel asked. “One already receiving money from Mercury?”
Hargreaves’s expression hardened.
Gabriel returned the programme to the table.
“Eleanor understands the alterations because she understands her father’s habits.
She recognised the false attribution and the use of the date as a key before any of us did.
If Finch is involved, she may be the only person who can distinguish his errors from messages inserted by someone else. ”
Julian looked at the programme.
“Use her scholarship,” he said. “Do not take her inside.”
“And when she attends without me?”
“She will not.”
Gabriel smiled without amusement. “You have spent too much time with Beatrice if you believe issuing a prohibition prevents anything.”
Julian’s gaze shifted toward the fire. He could hardly argue.
Hargreaves closed the file. “The Feast is in three weeks. We require confirmation that the literary auctions concern coded texts, and we need the name behind the scholarly payments. Miss Finch may continue decoding the programmes, but she is not to enter the club until we know more.”
“That instruction should be delivered to her directly,” Gabriel said.
“Why?”
“Because she is unlikely to mistake your authority for mine.”
Julian studied him. “You are tempted to agree.”
Gabriel laughed lightly. “I am tempted by most things.”
“Not like this.”
The accusation came too close to Eleanor’s earlier observation. You are afraid you might enjoy teaching me. Gabriel set down his coffee.
“She is intelligent enough to understand an arrangement,” he said.
“That was not my concern.”
“What was?”
Julian’s face remained impassive. “Whether you are.”
Gabriel held his gaze.
Hargreaves rose and gathered the files, either from tact or impatience. “I shall have the watermark examined and obtain the guest regulations for the Feast.”
He paused at the door.
“Do not underestimate Miss Finch because she speaks quietly,” he said.
Gabriel looked at the programme.
“I do not.”
After Hargreaves left, Julian remained by the table.
“Beatrice trusts you,” he said.
“A burden I endure bravely.”
“She trusts you with Eleanor.”
“That sounds less like trust and more like punishment.”
Julian did not smile. “Do not make her another story attached to your name.”
Gabriel’s amusement disappeared.
“There is no story.”
“Keep it that way.”
Julian took his coat and left. Gabriel remained alone with the programme, the cooling coffee and the memory of Eleanor standing before the library door.
He had built his life around stories attached to his name.
Lady Sefton’s balcony. Mrs. Pembury’s carriage.
The masquerade in Vienna. The French widow who claimed he had ruined her appreciation of ordinary men.
Some stories were true. Some had been useful.
Several had been encouraged because a frivolous rake could move through powerful households without appearing to seek anything more dangerous than pleasure.
Gabriel had entered bedrooms where ministers left letters unlocked.
He had sat beside intoxicated officers while they complained about orders not yet public.
He had persuaded lonely wives to describe husbands who ignored them until secrets became the only currency in their marriages.
He had never taken information through force.
He had not always taken it without consequence.
Julian was right about one thing. Eleanor could not become another story.
The more troubling truth was that Gabriel had already begun imagining it.
* * *
The following afternoon, rain struck the windows above Quinn’s printing premises with the persistent rhythm of fingers upon a locked door.
Gabriel climbed the damaged staircase and found Beatrice sitting behind Eleanor’s desk, reading a manuscript with such concentration that she failed to look up until he entered.
“That cannot be yours,” he said.
Beatrice turned a page. “Why?”
“It contains no threats in the first paragraph.”
“The threats begin in chapter two.”
“Then I apologise to the author.”
Eleanor stood near the long table beneath the window, arranging Mercury Club programmes beside several Greek texts.
She wore a dark blue gown today rather than grey.
The colour deepened her eyes and made the pale skin above her collar appear warmer.
Gabriel disliked the fact that he noticed.
He disliked even more that she noticed him noticing.
“Lord Ashcombe,” she said.
“Miss Finch.”
Beatrice looked between them. “Should I remain?”
“Yes,” Gabriel said.
“No,” Eleanor said at the same time.
Beatrice’s mouth curved.
Gabriel removed his gloves. “The discussion concerns your safety.”
“Then it concerns me.”
“It may also concern your reputation.”
“My reputation is not a separate person requiring representation.”
Beatrice closed the manuscript. “I shall be downstairs.”
Gabriel turned toward her. “Beatrice.”
“She asked for privacy.”
“She also asked for seduction lessons.”
Eleanor’s face remained still.
Beatrice looked delighted. “Did she?”
“Your surprise is unconvincing.”
“I suspected. I did not know.”
Gabriel narrowed his eyes. Beatrice rose and crossed toward the door. As she passed Eleanor, she squeezed her hand.
“Shout if he becomes tiresome.”
“That could exhaust us both,” Eleanor said.
The door closed behind Beatrice. Gabriel listened to her footsteps descend the stairs.
“You told her?” he asked.
“I told no one.”
“She guessed.”
“Beatrice frequently mistakes intrusion for intuition.”
“She learned it from Julian.”
Eleanor gestured toward the chair opposite the desk. “Sit.”
Gabriel remained standing.
“I have come to refuse again.”
“You already refused.”
“I wished to ensure the message survived the night.”
“It did. I found it unpersuasive.”
“Your opinion does not alter the danger.”
“No, but it affects my response.”
Gabriel moved toward the table. “You are unmarried. If anyone learns you attended the Feast upon my arm, society will not ask whether the purpose was scholarly.”
“Society has never displayed much interest in scholarly purpose.”
“It will assume you are my mistress.”
“And?”
The single word stopped him. Eleanor continued arranging the programmes.
“And your reputation will be destroyed.”
“My reputation consists primarily of being quiet and useful to my father. I am not certain its loss would be tragic.”
“Your father may confine you.”
“He may attempt it.”
“He may remove your financial support.”
“I intend to become independent.”
“He may prevent you from publishing.”
“He already does.”
Gabriel stared at her. Eleanor looked up. Her calm did not arise from ignorance. She had measured each risk and found her current life insufficient compensation for avoiding them. That was far more dangerous than reckless courage.
“The men at the Mercury Club are not merely foolish scholars,” he said. “Some purchase debts in order to control families. Others trade private letters, government information and evidence of crimes. A woman entering their private rooms is assumed to understand the nature of the establishment.”
“I do.”