Chapter 17
The sun was dipping in the sky as Simeon approached the stately townhouse of Lord Revett.
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Benedict asked, walking next to him.
“I most assuredly do.”
Adrien sighed. “Threatening the Home Secretary at his own home is a terrible plan.”
Simeon grinned as he stepped onto the paved walkway. “It appears that you agents are rubbing off on me.”
With a chuckle, Benedict remarked, “Perhaps you’ll become an agent one of these days.”
“No, thank you,” he said with a smile. “Frankly, my days as a Bow Street Runner are limited. It’s time that I run my company and return home to my family.”
“Does Emma know you own Martin Trading Company?”
He shook his head. “Not specifically, but I have mentioned I own a merchant company.”
Adrien chuckled. “A merchant company?” he repeated slowly. “Your company rivals The East India Company.”
“That may be true, but I didn’t want to inform Emma of my wealth.”
“May I ask why?” Benedict questioned.
With a slight shrug, Simeon replied, “I suppose I wanted to see if she would accept me for who I was, not for my title, or for my money.”
“And now?” Benedict asked.
A smile came to his face. “She was far more impressed that I was a Bow Street Runner than a viscount.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Titles and wealth seem to mean nothing to our dear Emma,” Adrien commented.
“I agree.”
Walking up to the black, main entry door, Simeon pounded it with his fist, then stepped back.
The door opened, revealing a lean butler with a thin mustache. “May I help you?” he asked politely.
Extending his calling card, Simeon said, “Please inform Lord Revett that Lord Wentworth would like a moment of his time.”
Benedict retrieved his own card and handed it to the butler. “As does the Marquess of Lansdowne.”
The butler looked expectantly at Adrien, who reluctantly removed a card from a pocket of his waistcoat. “And the Earl of Camden.”
“Yes, my lords,” the butler said as he invited them into the entry foyer. “I will inform Lord Revett of your arrival.”
Simeon’s eyes admired the woodwork dominating the square entry hall, along with light-colored, papered walls.
The clicking of the butler’s shoes informed them of his pending arrival. “Lord Revett will see you now,” he informed them.
Following the butler towards the rear of the townhouse, Benedict stepped up to walk next to Simeon, muttering, “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Wentworth.”
The butler stopped next to an open door and gestured towards the room, indicating they should enter.
As they entered, Lord Revett was sitting behind a large desk with stacks of papers next to him. His head was down, but he managed to say, “Please, have a seat. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Rather than sit, Simeon leaned against the wall near the fireplace and watched Lord Revett work.
His thinning black hair was longer than what was fashionable.
He had a thin mustache, and his ears were pointed.
On the rare occasion he attended Parliament, he saw Lord Revett sitting in the front row, his arms folded, looking solemn.
He did not appear to be a man to trifle with, but then again, neither was he.
“My apologies,” Lord Revett said with a brief smile, looking up from the papers on his desk.
“There isn’t enough time in the day to complete all that’s required of me as the Home Secretary, especially since Parliament is in session tonight.
” He rose from his chair and walked over to the drink cart.
“How may I help you gentlemen this evening?” His tone was cheery.
“I’ve come to discuss the Anti-Corn Law rebels,” Simeon stated.
Lord Revett bobbed his head as he poured four snifters of brandy. “I am greatly concerned about that group of radical thinkers, as well.”
“What do you intend to do with them?” Simeon pressed.
“Arrest them, discredit them… the usual,” Lord Revett informed them, picking up the four glasses and walking them over to a side table. He set them down and handed one to each man.
Simeon accepted a snifter and muttered, “Thank you.” He took a sip of his drink. “And what about underhanded tactics?”
“I don’t condone anything underhanded,” Lord Revett declared, picking up his brandy.
Swirling the drink in his hand, Simeon pursed his lips. “That’s interesting. Constable Stone informed me that you authorized him to blow up a balloon at the Anti-Corn Law rebels’ protest in Grange Gardens.”
Lord Revett huffed. “That’s ludicrous. He’s obviously lying.”
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to verify your story since he’s dead,” Simeon said.
Taking a sip of his drink, Lord Revett didn’t respond for a moment, clearly startled by the news. “I’m sorry to hear that. How did he die?”
“I shot him as he attempted to use a flaming arrow to blow up a hydrogen balloon with a load of gunpowder in the basket,” he answered dryly.
Lord Revett’s face grew pale. “You shot Constable Stone?”
“Yes, but he wasn’t a constable anymore. He’d been fired from that position,” he shared, giving Revett a pointed look. “Were you not aware that I also work as a Bow Street Runner?”
“I was not aware of that fact,” Lord Revett admitted. “Do you know why Stone would do something so vile?”
“His intentions were to kill as many Anti-Corn Law rebels as possible,” Simeon replied. “As he attempted to kill me, Stone claimed he was acting under another’s authority.”
Lord Revett eyed him suspiciously. “You couldn’t possibly think I had anything to do with that, do you?”
“I definitely do,” Simeon replied.
Lord Revett frowned, lowering his glass to his lap. “What do you want, Lord Wentworth?”
“Your resignation.”
With a stunned expression, Lord Revett stared at him for a long moment. “You must be joking,” he finally said.
Simeon pushed away from the wall and came to sit down across from the Home Secretary. “If your nefarious plan had succeeded, that bomb would have killed thousands.”
“I had nothing to do with that…” Lord Revett attempted.
Simeon cut him off. “You gave Stone carte blanche to stop those protestors, including mass murder.”
“I did no such thing!” Lord Revett shouted, placing his drink onto the side table. “I merely asked Stone to attend the rally and to intervene only to arrest violent protestors.”
“Like he did at the demonstration in Templeton Square?” Adrien asked from his chair.
Lord Revett put his hands out in front of him. “I admit that Stone’s tactics did get out of hand during that one, but we have riots daily over the Corn Laws. If that demonstration had turned violent, it could have wrecked London.”
“I was at that rally,” Simeon informed him. “Stone struck and arrested the Marquess of Downshire’s ward.”
“I heard about that,” Lord Revett said with an apologetic smile. “Most unfortunate.”
Simeon shook his head. “No, what was most unfortunate were the people that were beaten and battered at your request.”
“Again, I had nothing to do with that. But I must question what you were doing at the rally, Lord Wentworth?” Lord Revett asked.
“I was on assignment.”
“With a woman?” Lord Revett pressed. “What self-respecting young woman would attend a demonstration?”
Benedict spoke up with a steely warning in his tone. “I would be very careful of how you speak about Miss Pearson.”
Lord Revett swallowed slowly. “I assure you, I meant no disrespect.”
“Where is Mr. Hatcher?” Adrien asked, changing the subject.
“At Newgate, I believe,” Lord Revett answered.
Adrien took a sip of his drink. “I want him released.”
“Absolutely not! He’s the supposed leader of the Anti-Corn Law rebels,” Lord Revett exclaimed.
“What is he being accused of?” Simeon asked.
Adjusting his waistcoat, Lord Revett answered, “He is causing civil unrest.” He gave Simeon a pointed look. “I would hate to think you are a sympathizer of that radical group. As one who has claimed his allegiance lies with the Tory party, it would not reflect well on you.”
“My allegiance is to whatever side is right on any matter, and the Tories need to repeal the Corn Laws,” Simeon declared.
Lord Revett scoffed. “That will never happen. The landowners won’t go for that.”
“It’s simple,” Benedict said, speaking up. “Either you convince the landowners to repeal the Corn Laws or step down as the Home Secretary.”
“Again, why would I step down? I’ve done nothing wrong,” Lord Revett declared.
“Your orders caused nearly a hundred people to be wounded at the Templeton Square rally, and if Stone had succeeded, thousands of people could have been killed at Grange Gardens,” Simeon pressed.
Lord Revett stared daggers at him. “You have no proof.”
“True, but the people are outraged after the protestors were beat nearly to death at what was supposed to be a peaceful demonstration,” Adrien said.
“I suspect if Mr. Blackmore wrote a few more articles, and they were featured on the front page of the morning paper, the people would stir even more. More riots would break out all over Britain.”
“Mr. Blackmore is a criminal,” Lord Revett replied. “He is causing more civil unrest.”
Simeon huffed. “No, Mr. Blackmore is writing articles that paint you in a poor light. He is writing the truth.”
“Truth is in the eye of the beholder,” Lord Revett quoted.
Benedict leaned back in his seat. “My father-in-law, the Duke of Remington, was quite concerned when I informed him that you gave the order to create a bomb using a balloon.” His face grew expressionless. “He also withdrew his support and has asked for your resignation.”
Lord Revett grew solemn. “The Duke of Remington has asked for my resignation?” he asked deliberately.
“I could talk to my father-in-law,” Benedict started slowly, “but we would want a few things in return.”
Pursing his lips, Lord Revett replied, “What do you want?”
“Drop the warrant for Mr. David Blackmore,” Simeon replied firmly.
“Mr. Blackmore is a menace to our society and needs to be behind bars,” Lord Revett pressed.