9. A Truth is Unwelcome

Meanwhile, at the Kravets townhouse

Dreading his next conversation with Baron Kravets, Elias stepped down from the coach and gave Thomas a beseeching look. "I hate to keep you, but I should only be a moment," he called up to the driver.

Thomas tipped his hat. "I'll wait, sir."

Elias didn't expect a butler to open the door for him, so he was surprised when he did—he hadn't even crossed over the area when Lord Kravets appeared in the opening. "I see you found your hat," the barrel-chested baron groused.

"It was mistakenly given to another and had been returned only moments before I got there," Elias replied, gingerly stepping into the vestibule.

"And Wilmington?"

"He is not ‘Lord JW'."

Kravets, garbed in a thick, dark banyan, drew his head back and scoffed. "He tell you that?"

Elias shook his head. "‘Lord JW' was found kissing a young lady behind a hedgerow. Before the midnight supper was served," he said as they made their way into the study.

"That's impossible," Kravets replied. "If he drank even half of the sleeping powder you put in his glass of punch, there's no way he could have awakened before midnight," he claimed.

"Exactly," Elias stated. "I watched him. He drank all of it." He waited a moment to allow Kravets to do his own reasoning before he said, "‘Lord JW' is not Wilmington, sir. In fact, he's a young man. Described as being in his early twenties, at least according to the footman who relayed the information."

"That's... that cannot be," Kravets said, shaking his head.

"Why not? ‘Lord JW' only ravishes young ladies and young widows."

Still not convinced, Kravets poured a glass of brandy and nearly downed it in one gulp. Still chilled from his late night foray to Weatherstone Manor, Elias was glad when the baron poured a glass for him, too. "Much obliged, sir." He savored the smoky aroma before he took a drink. His gaze settled on the amber liquid for a moment. "I had your driver check the other coaches that were still parked in front of Weatherstone Manor, just to be sure Lord Wilmington wasn't in any of them."

"Which means he went home with someone," Kravets groused. His eyes suddenly widened. "Will he remember you were the one who helped him out of the ballroom?" he asked.

Elias had been fearing the very same. Would the Earl of Wilmington remember their brief conversation as Elias handed him a glass of punch? He had seemed interested in learning more about his latest application for a steam engine—a sort of dog cart that would allow its user to push heavy crates around without the need for horses or muscle-bound laborers.

"He might," Elias hedged, "but if he should see me again, I'll do my best to avoid him, and if I cannot..." He allowed the sentence to trail off. "I'll say I noticed he didn't seem to be feeling well."

"Probably for the best," Kravets murmured. "Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed."

Relieved to hear he was being dismissed, Elias set his empty glass on the edge of the desk. "Thank you for the brandy. I look forward to receiving your bank draft for the investment," he said, before giving the baron a bow. He took his leave of the townhouse.

Thomas had stepped down from the driver's bench and stood next to the coach door, his attention on the crest.

"What's wrong?" Elias asked, pausing to follow the driver's gaze.

"Oy, nothing, sir. I was just thinking about how similar this crest is to the one on the coach of that driver we was talking to earlier."

Weary from the long night, Elias merely shrugged and climbed into the coach. Nearly lulled to sleep by the sound of the wheels and the hooves of the horses on the cobblestones, Elias gave a start when the coach stuttered to a stop in front of The Albany.

Elias was about to step out of the coach when the significance of the driver's words hit him. He glanced at the Kravets crest before giving a nod to Thomas.

About to ask as to the identity of the other driver, Elias decided he didn't want to know.