Chapter 21

When she entered her father's study, ready to ask him and his fellow men to give her an ear, she found the men were laughing and drinking. Clearly, the meeting was over.

"Darling," Nicholas Payne, the Viscount of Claimond greeted her with a smile. "I wasn't aware you were coming by. How are you?"

Hugging him tightly, "I had not planned to but I find myself in need of your business acumen. Actually—" she looked to the other lords, men she remembered from childhood. "—if your lordships would be so kind to help me as well, I would truly appreciate it."

Now, her father got concerned and his brows knotted in the same way Julius told her she looked when she worried. "What could be the matter dear? And gentlemen, Rowland, Farraday and Heath, would you mind?"

A collective gentle murmur of no's came from the other men and her father led her to a seat. Smoothing her skirts, she sat and sucked in a breath. "Have any of you heard of the industrialist named Sherborne?"

"The American who is being touted as the savior of the steam engine industry," an older man with thick hair and icy blue eyes, Farraday, she believed, replied. "Yes, I have. I think most of London has as well."

"So have I," Heath nodded, while adjusting his spectacles. "He is pulling in investments faster than the crow flies."

Her father rested a glass of sherry before her. "What is bothering you, dear?"

"My husband has a friend Adam Langley, The Right Honorable Earl of Holbrook, who came to him with the idea to invest," she began. "At first it was twenty-five thousand pounds but today, he has quoted a hundred thousand."

"A hundred, my god," Rowland's forehead broke out in perspiration. "If that is the buy in now, only Croesus can afford that."

"Pardon me, my lady, did you say Adam Langley, Earl Holbrook?" Farraday asked, leaning forward and resting his glass of brandy on a coaster. At her nod, Farraday added, "If I were you, my lady, tell your husband to dissociate with him immediately."

Shocked, she asked, "Why?"

"He has been trying to hide his financial situation, but he cannot anymore," Farraday reached for his drink and swirled it. "The man is a disgrace. He piled up debt through gambling and bad investment and expects everyone else to save him."

"Oh dear," Louisa murmured, "That is unsettling. But what about Sherborne?"

"I do not know," her father said, "But if he is taking so many investments, hundreds of thousands at time, there must be a bank involved. One cannot stow such funds in a lockbox. Heath, you are a banker, true?"

"I am, and those funds would not be in a small bank either," Heath agreed. "I am sure this Sherborne had not been to the Bank of England where I am appointed. He could be with others though. I have contacts at each bank, so I could enquire for you and send you a message."

"I, if you don't mind, I would like to visit a few of them myself," Louisa said. "But I would like to accept your offer as well. Would you mind checking even the smaller banks as well."

"I would be delighted to, but are you sure on visiting, Your Grace?" he asked. "It will take a long while."

"I'm certain," she said.

"Don't worry," her father rested a hand on her shoulder. "I will go with you. We'll get to the bottom of this."

It was past dusk before Louisa headed home, her heart heavily burdened and her heart uneasy. After trawling through every major bank in Town she and her father realized that nothing was as simple as it seemed.

For a famous industrialist, not one even heard of Sherborne much less had his account. For a man who was reportedly raking in hundreds of thousands of pounds in investments, nigh millions, where was he keeping the money?

"Health will point us in the right direction," her father had said. "Never fear."

But she did fear. Why couldn't she? The pieces of the puzzle were adding up and she did not like the image it was presenting. A man was up to his ears in debt was in business with a man who had no business. Well, as far as they could find out.

Arriving at the townhome, she entered and asked Sawyer. "Is His Grace home?"

"Yes, Your Grace," Sawyer bowed. "He is in the east drawing room with Lady Rose."

Her heart sunk a little; it would take her longer than she had planned to speak with him, but it was not as if she was heading to a noose. There was time. "Oh lovely," she smiled. "I'll join them soon."

A quarter an hour later, when she was changed into a soft evening dress and her robe on, she stepped into the room to find the two in a cutthroat game of chess.

Rose swiped Julius' Rook and after a moment, Julius tipped Rose's Bishop. Smiling sweetly, Rose slid her Queen forward. "Check."

Stoic, Julius moved his Knight to her King. "Checkmate."

Sagging into her seat, Rose looked over the board, lips twisting, "That is the fourth game you have won."

"For once, wartime strategy and acumen are a help, not a hindrance," Julius' eyes flickered to Lousia, then back to Rose. "You see opportunities a civilian mind would not."

Playing with a pawn, Rose asked, "You never told me what it was like during the war. I don't want to press you for bad memories, but I don't think it is healthy for you to keep everything in. Tell me something, please?"

He shook his head. "I do not want to stain your mind or heart with tales of death, hatred and strife."

She rocked the chess piece on its base, "Well, did you see him at all? Napoleon? The mad emperor?"

"No," Julius let out a breath. "And I don't think he would have gone to war himself at all. I would assume before he was crowned Emperor, his military career would have had him on the battlefield at some point. However, I think for these wars, he only stayed in his palace, strategizing and maneuvering men like pawns of the chessboard of the battlefield."

Wrapping her robe tighter, Rose sighed, "Men like those scare me. Those who are out for themselves and will do anything to get it, even if it means destroying other lives in the process."

"Sadly, there are men like that all around," Julius replied. "It our part to spy them out and avoid them at all times."

Nearing, Lousia perched on the edge of his wingback and rested an arm around Julius' back. "Rose, dear, I am so sorry to cut you fun in half, but I need to speak with Julius about an important matter."

"I don't mind, not in the slightest." Rose replied. "I think I shall retire anyway. I found a new book in the library, and I feel a good cup of chocolate and a bright lamp will do it for the night."

"Sleep well," Julius wished her. "When you decide to rest, that is."

After she left, he turned to Louisa, "It's not like you to interrupt us. What is the matter?"

"Come with me to my drawing room," she stood. "I will explain more there."

She could feel his inquisitive eyes on the back of her neck but did not stop to answer it. As he sat, she pulled out the letter. "Forgive me for opening you private correspondence but I could not shake the feeling that something was not right."

Taking them, he began to read over them and quickly ran though all seven, by the end, his expression grim. She sat across from him. "Do you see the problem?"

"He is getting agitated and desperate." Julius said. "It's unlike him."

"For good reason," Louisa replied. "When I read them, I was confused so I left to fathers to get him help me make head of tails of this only find Father in a meeting of other lords." She swallowed. "Lords who made it known to me that Holbrook is in debt, serious debt. He lost his fortune gambling and with some unsure investments."

"What?"

"And there is more," she said, "Knowing this about Holbrook, I followed a hunch and Father and I went around Town, seeking any sign of his industrial undertaking. This Sherborne is a man without any true business. For a man, that as Holbrook said, it taking in funds of that nature, there must be a bank account holding them."

"Yes," Julius pressed his lips tight. "That is troubling. I will dig deeper?—"

"No," she stopped him, "Let me. Let me do this, Julius, you already have so much on your plate already. Let me help you."

Surprise flickered in his amber eyes. "I do trust you. But this is men's business, rife with danger. I won't allow you to get hurt."

"I wont get hurt," she said. "A harmless little damsel asking about a business venture for her husband is?—"

"A red flag waving in front of a bull," Julius said, "But if you must do it, you must do it protected. I went to London to find such a thing for you."

This time, he led her to his study and pulled out a small box from where it rest on his main chair. Opening it, he pulled out a dainty, pearl-handled pistol and handed it to her.

"I promised you that I would teach you how to handle it, didn't I? If you are set on doing this for me, you need to be able to handle it," he said. "If you even sense danger, shoot first and ask later."

"I would argue with you about the morality of that statement, but I fear I will lose," she said dryly. "Cor, its heavy."

"Not as heavy as some, but it is the perfect size to hide in your reticule," he said, plucking up cartridges from the box as well. "Your training starts now."

Morning mist had not evaporated from the ground before Julius found himself back at the warehouse where Sherborne had held his laboratory. From the outside, the place looked the same, but a strange sensation tightening in his gut told him it would be a different story inside.

The feeling grew stronger the moment he nudged the door in and the slab of wood swung in without a problem. The room, once filled with blackboard and books, tables and beacons, was almost as empty as a church at midnight.

The man had packed up and ran in a rush; that was clear, but why?

Someone must have seen Louisa in the banks, nosing around and told the man to cut and run. It this was truly a scheme to defraud people out of their money, it would make sense for the perpetrators to have eyes in various places.

It would make sense for them not to have made a bank account, which would have made it harder for them to take the money and run. Even with an attendant in the bank who was a part of the scheme, it would hamper their escape.

"Boards wiped clean, books gone, beakers packed up—" he rounded the room and noted a grate, the smoldering ashes but a paper was half burned.

Kneeling, he fished the paper out, hissing at the scorch on his fingertips from the coals and cooled them with huffing breaths. "—cliff cross docks. Batcliff Cross Docks. He is running." His fist clenched the paper into a tight ball. "But I'll get there first."

Rising from his crouch, he dusted his hands off and headed back to the horse patiently waiting at the front of the steps. Reeling the horse in, he turned the mount towards the Somerset House in Westminster.

It was time for his second meeting with the Commandant and Julius was ready to go toe-to-toe with him with whatever accusations the man would throw at him.

As his boots met the ground, he plucked the timepiece from his inner pocket and checked the time; seven on the dot. He strode into the office, bypassing the clerk, his clipped stride took him right inside; Harrington looked up coldly.

"Do you just walk into a man's office without proper decorum?"

"I have no time or patience for these games," Julius said. "You tried to summon me like a stray dog quivering for a bone, to beg for whatever favors you think you can dangle before my nose to make me beg. I do not plan of quivering or begging so tell me right now, what ill will do you have against me?"

"Bold of you to ask such a pointed question," Harrington said, matching Julius' cold tone. "From where I sit, you have ill-will toward me."

"Why are you digging in a case that was already closed?" Julius demanded.

"Do you know what happened to Lieutenant Maxwell Jameison after that day?" Harrington asked, leaning into his seat.

"No," Julius replied. "I don't."

"Neither does the rest of the admiralty," Harrington said, "If anything, his family needs closure and if you cannot provide it for them, I will."

"By trumping up some fake allegations against me?" Julius said coldly. "This happened in war, Harrington. People die, by enemy fire or by accidental attack. It happens."

"Not when the man had a family of four and no will for his wife to abide by," Harrington snapped, surging forward. "His Earldom is in flux and his children will starve before the boy gets to maturity."

"So, you are fighting for social injustice, it that it?" Julius' eyes flickered between Harrington's. "Petition the courts then, but do not wager a witch hunt against me."

"If you are found wanting, you will pay," Harrington said calmly. "And I will not stop until the last penny drops. I feel sorry for your genteel wife, married to a Bedlam Patient like you."

His hands shot up and he hauled Harrington up by the scruff, "You do not say a word about my wife, or courts be damned, I will damage you."

"There he is," Harrington sneered. "The true Julius Compton."

Dropping the peon to his chair, Julius strode out only to have Harrington call over, "Make no mistake, this interaction will be added to your record."

"Write in in triple for all I care," Julius spat.

Walking away, he headed home knowing if he stayed any longer, he would have more charges laid against him. As he rode home, he replayed the conversation in his mind and grew surer and surer that Harrington had a personal stake in this matter.

Once again, he felt like one of the acrobatic acts at Vauxhall; still blindfolded but jugging the crystal balls while walking a tightrope, only this time, there was a clock ticking over his head.

Harrington and this investigation: one ball.

Holbrook and this investment; second ball.

Rose and the men who claimed to be watching her; the most worrying one of all.

Spurring the horse into a gallop through the still empty streets. The feeling took his back to the blood fields of Waterloo, where the dirt reeked of blood and ash, where they sky was grey with cannon smoke and pits of fire for burning bodies.

He had to get to Bow Street and meet the chief of the Runners and have them look into Holbrook. His skin itched with the urge to take matters into his own hands but there were so many issues happening co-currently that he did not have the time to take this on hand.

He found the Yard in melee; and soon found out a Marquess had crashed his phaeton into a shop in Mayfair, had injured two men and a child, and knew that even with his status, it would take him a time to get his concerns heard.

He was shown to the chief's office that felt more like an oversized cupboard than anything else and settled down to wait, but he had to alert the men to Holbrook and his accomplice. With any luck, they would be stopped before anyone else got roped into their trickery.