Chapter Thirty

"The lost earl of Cobham?" Daisy said. "It sounds like the title of a bad Drury Lane melodrama."

"I know," Ellie sighed. "Should we believe him, or not?"

"The only way to find out if he's telling the truth is to take the case and start investigating," Tess said reasonably.

Ellie glared at the basil plant in the corner. She'd watered it yesterday, since its leaves had started to droop, and now it looked remarkably jaunty. Like its previous owner.

"I'm sure there have been other examples of people returning from the dead," Daisy said. "Do you know any particular legal cases, Ellie?"

"My father dealt with one a few years ago, but I don't remember the details. People often think that once someone's been missing for a few years it's easy for their family to have them declared dead, but it's not necessarily true. The courts look at each individual case and assess how likely it is that the person is dead. If the missing person was known to have been on a ship that sank, for example, or was last seen wounded, during a terrible battle, then the likelihood that they're deceased is high.

"But if someone just disappeared while traveling abroad, there's a chance that they might still be alive. In some cases, courts have required an absence of more than a decade before they finally grant permission for the estate to be distributed to other parties."

"Harry's been gone for almost that long," Tess said. "But his family never had him declared dead."

Ellie nodded. "Petitions usually happen when there's property involved, or when a wife wants to marry someone else. If she's officially declared a widow, then she can't commit adultery or bigamy, even if the ‘dead' husband turns up alive later on."

"That makes sense," Daisy said. "Although think how conflicted the poor woman would feel! What a situation to find yourself in." She shuddered.

"The courts aren't usually in a hurry to declare someone dead," Ellie continued. "Especially if that person is heir to an estate and a title. If it was a young, unmarried man, with no legitimate sons, then there would be a chance of him marrying and having a son while he was absent. They'd need to be sure there were no legitimate living heirs."

Tess snorted. "That's why it took so long to name Justin the new Duke of Wansford. Two years to find him and name him the heir!"

"But surely it shouldn't be too difficult to prove Harry is—or isn't—the earl?" Daisy said. "There must be documentation, like a record of his birth in the parish register."

"I'm sure there is, but all that proves is that the eleventh earl and his wife had a male child named Henry. We still have to prove that Harry is that same child who left the country, aged fifteen."

Daisy tilted her head. "Even parish records can lie. After all, my birth certificate lists the Duke of Dalkeith as my father, when everyone knows my real sire was the Italian fencing master my mother ran off with."

Daisy's tone was matter-of-fact, and even though Ellie knew she wasn't bothered by her unusual parentage, she still sent her a commiserating look. The duke might acknowledge Daisy as his legitimate daughter, but he was a cold and distant man who had little time for any of his children, including her three elder half brothers.

"I'm surprised Harry didn't just forge some documents," Tess said with a smile. "He must have the criminal connections to do such a thing. Perhaps the fact that he doesn't have any proof is actually a mark in his favor?"

Ellie sniffed. "I'm sure he has plenty of fake passports and travel papers, considering how many different aliases he has. Henri Bonheur. Enrico Castellini. The list goes on. But even if he does have a real passport for Henry Brooke, that doesn't prove he's the same man either. There's no description of the person on the paper, just their name. A judge would argue that he could have stolen it from the real recipient."

"There must be someone who can vouch for him, though. What about an old schoolfriend? Or a teacher from school?"

"Or a family portrait?" Daisy suggested.

"A portrait might show a family likeness, but it would have been painted before he turned fifteen, and there's rarely enough detail in them to make a strong enough case," Tess said. "It could show a younger brother, or an illegitimate child. Unless Harry has some obviously distinguishing mark, like a visible scar, or a birthmark?"

Ellie tapped her cheek. "I don't know if you've noticed, but he does have the most extraordinary eyes. One looks blue, while the other looks green-brown. I doubt a painter would have captured that useful detail, though."

"I hadn't noticed," Tess admitted. "I've been too busy admiring his tailoring."

"We haven't all been gazing into his eyes like a lovesick puppy, like you have, Ellie," Daisy teased.

"I don't look at him like that!"

Daisy made a comical face. "Oh no? Perhaps it's me that needs to wear spectacles, then. Because I'm sure you go all misty-eyed whenever you look at him."

"Is it really that obvious?" Ellie was appalled.

"That you're in love with him?" Tess grinned. "I'm afraid so. To us, at least. But we've known you for years, so we know you the best of anyone."

Ellie dropped her forehead to her desk and groaned. "It's a disaster. How did this happen? Last week I disapproved of everything about him, but yesterday I thought my heart would stop beating if he was dead."

"At least you fell in love with him before you knew there was a chance that he's an earl." Daisy shrugged. "Nobody could accuse you of being after his title."

"I haven't told him." Ellie raised her head. "And don't you dare say anything about it to him either. He isn't in love with me, and even if he was, what good could come of it? If we prove he's just a charlatan trying to sneak into the role of earl, then he's going to leave London and never come back.

"And if we do prove he's the earl, he'll be the toast of the town. The prodigal son, miraculously restored to his rightful place. The single women will be all over him like wasps on a honey sandwich. He'll have his pick of brides. If he chooses to marry, he can do much better than me, who has neither a fortune nor a title. Whatever happens, there's no future for the two of us."

Tess sighed. "He certainly plays his cards close to his chest, but perhaps that's just habit. He's so used to concealing his true intentions it's probably become second nature."

"He definitely desires you," Daisy added. "He never takes his eyes from you whenever you're together. And he likes you too. He laughs at your jokes, and appreciates your talents."

"Yes, but that doesn't necessarily mean he loves me, does it?"

"Perhaps he's been too distracted by his quest to prove his name to give the matter real consideration. Men, in general, aren't terribly good at saying what they feel. They just assume you know , or they use strange, often incomprehensible gestures to show their regard."

"The way cats show their love by bringing you dead mice." Daisy grinned.

"What a lovely image." Ellie grimaced. "God, why can't our hearts be as sensible as our brains?"

Daisy laughed. "It keeps things interesting, I suppose. Just think of all the drama we'd have missed out on if people didn't do stupid things for love. There'd be no opera, no Shakespeare. No Lancelot and Guinevere, no Antony and Cleopatra. All those poets like Byron and Shelley would have had to get proper jobs, instead of mooning about, composing sonnets to someone's eyelashes."

"It would certainly cut the number of cases at the Old Bailey." Ellie smiled, rallying. "Half of those are crimes of passion. Or committed because of love."

Tess chuckled. "And the gossip sheets would have nothing to write about, except fashions and the weather."

Daisy tossed her dagger into the air, then snatched it back with impressive dexterity. She'd taken to throwing it across the room at a playing card she'd affixed to the door, and Ellie winced every time the blade skewered the poor queen of hearts. It was hard not to remember the night she'd learned to cheat with Harry.

"Well, I think you're worrying over nothing," Daisy said. "As strange as it seems to say I trust a man as unashamedly conniving as Harry, I do trust that he's telling the truth about his family."

Ellie sighed. "We'll see."

"Write to him and tell him we'll take the case."

"We should charge him double," Ellie muttered. "For emotional aggravation."

"Actually, I was going to suggest that he pay us with his time and skills," Tess said.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you remember last year, when Edmond Rundell asked us to listen out for information about a jewel that had been stolen from his workshop?"

"An aquamarine." Ellie nodded.

"Well, one of the girls who works at The Golden Ball—that new gaming hell in St. James's—told me a player by the name of Christopher Blake put up a large blue gemstone as collateral in a card game last week."

Daisy raised her brows. "You think it's the one taken from Rundell, Bridge and Rundell?"

Tess gave an elegant shrug. "There can't be many stones of that size knocking around London. It's been several years since the theft. The culprit probably thinks enough time has passed for the jewel to resurface without arousing suspicion."

"Did this Blake lose the jewel?"

"No. He won a purebred Arabian stallion from Lord Kidner, and kept hold of the gem. Kitty said he's an excellent player, even in his cups."

"Harry could win the jewel from Blake," Ellie said firmly.

"My thoughts exactly. If his skill at cards is as good as you say, then he has the best chance of anyone of beating him. And if Blake's ‘luck' is down to the fact that he cheats, then Harry should be able to recognize it—and counter it with a few tricks of his own."

Daisy nodded. "If the jewel is the one taken from Rundell, then we'll get a reward for its safe return. And if it isn't , we can sell it to Rundell, or another jeweler, for a tidy profit."

"Agreed." Ellie smiled. "I'll tell Harry those are our terms for taking his case."