Chapter 16 #2
“Those of you who don’t owe anything are naturally free to leave, but I must insist that the rest of you stay.” Mr. Grover raised his chin. “Just until your bank approves the necessary payment.”
“This is outrageous,” another guest grumbled. “You should be satisfied with our bearer notes and words of honor.”
“Bearer notes can be forged,” Mr. Grover quipped. “Similarly, words of honor may easily be questioned among a group of men striving to purchase a duke’s abducted sister. If you’ll forgive me for saying so.”
“By God,” a man behind James exclaimed, “I’ve never been more insulted in my life.”
“Now, now,” someone else muttered while making his way to where Mr. Grover stood. “He’s only trying to make sure he gets what he’s owed. Here’s my bearer note, sir. For Madame de Maintenon’s diary.”
“Thank you.” Mr. Grover took the piece of paper and gave it a quick assessment before he pocketed it. “Who’s next?”
One by one, the men produced their bearer notes and handed them over. James did the same, for the unbelievable eye-watering sum of one hundred thousand pounds.
Thank the Lord, Croft would not have to pay it.
James handed over five pieces of paper, each one good for twenty-thousand pounds, to Mr. Grover, and watched without even the slightest concern as the man turned them over a couple of times as though searching for defects.
He’d find none.
Mr. Croft’s associate, Aderlay, did exemplary work. Not even the keenest eye would be able to tell that the note was forged. But it would become evident once the notes were delivered to Barclay and Tritton, along with Coutts, and the banks refused to honor the payments.
When James had planned his rescue attempt, he’d envisioned spiriting Lady Edwina away to safety before this occurred. Now he’d have to make other plans. Preferably, before he was escorted elsewhere, with Lady Edwina remaining under Mr. Grover’s watchful eye until payment arrived.
He considered his options and realized there was no elegant way to extricate himself from this mess.
“And if someone’s notes aren’t honored?” asked the man who’d lost to James. “Will the prize then go to the next bidder?”
James stared at the individual, not caring one whit how Mr. Grover responded. The only thing of interest to him in that moment was the voice he suddenly recognized. He’d only heard it briefly when the man had seen his master out of his house, but there was no mistake.
It belonged to Henshaw.
The businessman had fooled him and Mr. Croft completely.
He’d not only been aware of this evening’s event, he’d likely helped plan it.
Considering what the employee James had spoken to at The Veiled Lantern relayed, Grover probably had purchased opium there on Henshaw’s behalf.
The pair were in league with each other.
His being here was all the evidence James required.
Which no doubt meant that Henshaw was also the fictitious Earl of Highborn.
The temptation to send Kip off to Bow Street and tell Kendrick what was occurring so he could conduct a raid was nearly impossible to ignore. And yet James forced himself to pause and reflect on where that would lead.
Yes, Henshaw and the rest of this unsavory party would be inconvenienced, but given their deep pockets, they probably had the kind of connections that might result in nothing more than steep fines.
However, Wrengate would be informed of each man’s name and have the satisfaction of seeking vengeance on behalf of his sister.
But the duke had made one thing clear when he’d sought Croft’s help. He didn’t want anyone knowing his sister had even gone missing, never mind what she’d been through, becoming public knowledge. As would likely be the case if Kendrick showed up with his Runners and turned the hotel on its head.
Reports would be filed. Each guest might be forced before a judge. The newspapers would salivate at the stories they’d be handed on a silver platter. In which case, her name would undoubtedly surface.
She would be ruined, her prospects destroyed.
James glanced at Kip. Surely there had to be some other way.
“Follow me, if you will,” said the man who’d admitted James to the room earlier. He was addressing the guests who stood nearest the door. “I’ll show you to your allotted rooms.”
The guests started filing out into the hallway with a couple declaring that they would need to send messages home to their servants, informing them of their delay. A third man mentioned a wife who would have to be reassured.
James considered, then dropped to a crouch in front of Kip and spoke to him as quietly as he was able. “Tell Mrs. Greene to procure a hooded cloak and a carriage. Then ask her to meet me at the service entrance. Go.”
The boy didn’t question a single word and was out the door in a flash. James straightened and adjusted the sleeves of his jacket, buying a few additional seconds in which to think.
“Do you have a lady waiting for you at home, too?” Henshaw asked with a low drawl that made James want to smash his face in.
He turned to the horrid man, ever conscious that the last few guests were making their exits, and that Lady Edwina remained on the divan. Mr. Grover, who’d approached her while Henshaw spoke, had retrieved a pipe from his jacket pocket.
“Now that I’ve won the lady,” James said loudly, addressing Mr. Grover without deigning to answer Henshaw’s question, “I must insist you keep your distance from her.”