CHAPTER 25
No—it cannot be.
Wrexford felt a little light-headed. All at once, the humid heat and smells from the unwashed bodies seemed to have thickened the air, making it hard to breathe. Leaning back, he swallowed hard, aware of the beads of sweat slithering down between his shoulder blades.
His eyes pooled with concern, Griffin nudged his tankard of ale across the table. “Drink,” he said softly.
The earl took a grateful gulp, the sharp, sour taste of the cheap brew loosening the knot in his throat. “Explain yourself, Pierson. Tell me why I can’t believe the evidence that I see clearly with my own eyes.”
“Because,” answered the government operative, “the plot was conceived by a ruthlessly clever fiend who manipulated Taviot into appearing the villain, when in fact he was merely a pawn.”
Yet another sordid game within a game? Pierson lived in a netherworld whose lifeblood was duplicity and deception. To its denizens, morality was a pitifully na?ve concept.
“How?” asked Wrexford, though he was aware that the answer might not be anything close to the truth. “And I suggest that you try to be convincing. I’m in no mood to be manipulated by government lies.”
“I only lie when it’s efficient. With you, I know that doing so is more trouble than it’s worth.”
In the uncertain light, Wrexford wasn’t sure whether the operative’s expression was a smirk or a grudging acknowledgment of respect. And he didn’t much care.
“Stubble the clever retorts before I shove your teeth down your gullet,” he responded. “All I want out of your mouth is a credible explanation of what is going on.”
“I have every intention of providing one if you’ll give me a chance.”
Wrexford signaled for Pierson to continue.
“Taviot has always been pressed to keep up appearances. The family coffers have never been as puffed up as his own sense of self-worth,” began Pierson.
“He has expensive tastes, and like many aristocrats, he has used his position of power and privilege for financial gain. He was willing to take bribes or sell his support for a business project or a bill in Parliament.”
A half-mocking smile. “I’m sure you know what I mean.”
“Have a care as to what you are implying,” warned the earl softly. “I don’t take kindly to being called a muckworm.”
Wrexford’s ire seemed to amuse Pierson. “No need to challenge me to pistols at dawn, milord. My superior and I are aware that you are one of those rare men whose soul is not for sale.”
“The state of my soul isn’t the issue,” snapped Wrexford. “Let us return to Taviot. If the government knew of his flaws, then why did he gain a senior position in the Foreign Office?”
“Taviot possesses intelligence, complemented by cunning. He’s also articulate and a good negotiator, all useful traits for a diplomat,” came the answer. “Let us just say that it was decided that his strengths outweighed his weaknesses.”
“And yet I have proof that says he betrayed our country.”
Pierson heaved a long-suffering sigh. “In fact, you don’t.
What you have are coded notes for a wine smuggling scheme—at least, that is what Taviot believed he was writing, for a cut of the wine profits, of course.
But in truth, he was humbugged into passing our military secrets to the French, which resulted in the outmaneuvering of General Moore’s army, forcing its bloody retreat to the coast.”
This information answered the question Wrexford had raised with von Münch about why Taviot would risk exposing his betrayal of his country just to share in the profits of a wine smuggling enterprise. Apparently he hadn’t.
And yet it still didn’t feel right.
“Codes within codes?” said Wrexford. “You expect me to believe that balderdash? It’s more ridiculous than one of Ann Radcliffe’s horrid novels!”
“Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction,” responded Pierson.
“Enough word games,” snapped the earl. “If what you say is true, then who is the real culprit?”
Pierson’s supercilious smile wavered for an instant. He hesitated, taking the time to flick an imaginary mote of dust off his coat cuff before replying. “Actually, we are hoping that you might be able to help us uncover the man’s identity.”
“If that’s a jest, it’s not remotely funny.”
“Like you, I’m not laughing, milord.” A pause—and an actual flicker of humanity in the depths of Pierson’s eyes. “I’ve been working to piece together the full story, so I’m aware of your brother’s death in a French ambush, and how the murder of Neville Greeley drew you into this tangled intrigue.”
A groan of wood against wood sounded as the operative slid forward in his chair.
“Our department suspected someone was feeding information to the French six years ago during the retreat of our army toward Corunna. But the trail was so well hidden that we couldn’t manage to track down the culprit.
It was put aside after the war, but when we heard recent whisperings that Herr von Münch—the personal librarian to our sovereign’s son-in-law, King Frederick of Württemberg—was making inquiries among former French intelligence officers on your behalf, it occurred to Lord Grentham that you might have picked up the old scent. ”
Wrexford considered what he had just heard. “So what are you suggesting?”
“That we pool our information,” answered Pierson. “That way, we both have a good chance of getting what we want.”
“That’s asking a lot.” He locked eyes with the operative. “It means I will need to trust what you tell me.”
Pierson didn’t blink. “You’re a man of logic, Wrexford. What reason would I have for giving you false information?”
A laugh rumbled in the earl’s throat. “I don’t pretend to understand the way your mind works. However . . .” He tapped his fingertips together. “In this case, I find myself inclined to take you at your word.” Tap, tap. “You must have compiled a list of possible suspects.”
“Yes, several members of Taviot’s diplomatic delegation to Portugal had some skeletons in their cupboards that indicated they might be open to bribery if the price was right,” replied Pierson.
“But we could never uncover any real evidence on any of them.” He gave the earl three names.
“Perhaps your informants are better at digging up dirt than mine.”
Wrexford made a mental note of the names.
“As to my recent endeavors, I’ve been looking at the possibility that the traitor was a fellow officer in my brother’s regiment.
” A pause. “And by the by, the arsonist who was hired to set the fire at Maudslay’s laboratory was also attached to the same brigade. ”
Pierson’s subtle change of expression indicated that he wasn’t aware of that fact.
“But so far, I’ve found no connection between Taviot and any of the regiment’s officers,” continued the earl. “A friend at Horse Guards is continuing to examine the military records to see if any suspects come to light.”
“Now that there appears to be a military connection, I’ll ask Grentham to have his adjutants take a look at who was serving on General Moore’s staff. Perhaps one of those officers had a connection to Taviot.”
“Anything else you can tell me?” asked Wrexford.
Pierson’s silence was eloquent enough.
“You might also consider putting pressure on the former French intelligence officers who are now serving their restored king here in London,” said Wrexford. “One of them may know the identity of the real traitor.”
There was no response from Pierson, but he didn’t expect one.
Without looking up, Wrexford continued to gather the letters he had brought to the meeting and put them away.
“One last thing. I suspect that Taviot’s consortium is a fraud, and that they have made no headway in inventing a nautical propulsion system for oceangoing steamships. ”
“We have reason to believe the same thing,” said Pierson.
The earl went very still. “Did you, perchance, have an operative in their secret laboratory the other night?”
A shrug. “We didn’t need to bother with such cat-and-mouse games.
Our naval research lab has been experimenting with propellers for some time.
In addition, we’ve had the finest minds at Oxford and Cambridge working on both the theoretical and practical aspects involving the mathematics and science of making an efficient steam engine that is powerful enough to cross oceans.
Given their work, our government has recently concluded that for now, the current technology is not capable of building one. ”
“And yet Taviot and his consortium are raising a great deal of money from some very prominent members of the beau monde.”
“We are aware of that issue, too. It will be dealt with.” Pierson’s smile—or was it a sneer—was back. “Discreetly, of course.”
Deciding that he had heard all the useful information that Pierson was willing to give, Wrexford did up the fastenings of his portfolio.
“Are you ready to leave, Griffin?” he snapped.
“Or are you really drinking what’s in that pisspot?
” He slid back his chair. “At least I fork over the blunt for decent refreshments.”
The Runner rose. “Now that you mention it, milord, I haven’t yet had my supper.”
* * *
As the carriage clattered past Clarges Street and slowed to turn into Curzon Street, Charlotte felt compelled to remind the dowager that the upcoming visit was neither the time nor the place for any sleuthing.
“Remember, we are here merely to be seen,” she counseled. “We shall imbibe a glass of champagne, make polite conversation with the other guests, and then take our leave.”
“My wits haven’t gone wandering,” replied Alison tartly. “I fully comprehend our marching orders.” The steel tip of her cane tapped a martial tattoo upon the floorboards. “However, a thought occurred to me.”
“I would rather not hear it,” said Charlotte.