Page 9 of Snowy and the Seven Doves
The other two were nodding, but it wasn’t as simple as that. He continued, “On the other hand, I don’t know that I want to be a viscount, either. You know my opinion of the nobility—saving your presence, of course, Drew. Besides, what do I know about being a viscount?”
“I can’t see there is any point if you cannot prove your case,” Gary said. “Even if you are Henry Snowden, can you prove it? You need more information. That much is clear.”
Drew agreed. “As much history as we can find for the men involved and your family. What other people think of them. What they’re doing now. Anything that might help you to make your decision.”
“I can ask around in the law fraternity,” Gary offered.
“I can talk to my father and ask my sisters and cousins what is known about the Snowden family in the ton,” said Drew.
It was precisely what Snowy had been going to ask his friends. “And I have asked the Blossoms to find out what they can. You would not believe some of the things that customers tell a good-time girl.”
“Give me forty-eight hours,” said Drew.
“I am in court that day,” Gary noted. “I have to be in chambers by ten, all ready to worship my esteemed master. Let’s meet here for breakfast. Eight o’clock? Snowy won’t have gone to bed yet, and it’ll do Drew good to get up early.”
Chapter Four
Several days later,armed with the information his friends had gathered, Snowy decided his next step would be to see his solicitor. He had one, apparently, chosen years ago by Lily and his mother. The firm held signed depositions from both women, and Lily had been sending them yearly reports on Snowy’s wellbeing.
Gary told him the firm had a reputation for integrity, which would stand him in good stead if he decided to make a claim for the title.
So Snowy asked for an appointment, using theHenry Snowdento sign the request so that the solicitors would be more likely to see him. It made his skin crawl to sign in the name of that long ago boy, even though he understood that he was that boy, grown up. He was not the same person he would have been if he had grown up in privilege. Claiming the name felt like a commitment he was not ready to make.
A message was returned within the hour, naming a time the following afternoon. Lily and Gary agreed to accompany him.
The outer office, with its paneled walls, its discretely luxurious carpet, and its matching furnishings quietly announced that the firm was old but successful. Glass-fronted bookcases full of large books, all bound in identical red leather with gold lettering, suggested the library of a gentlemen’s club.
It had the hush of a library, too, or a church—broken only by the scratch of quill pens used by clerks who sat at the neat desks and stood at work stands lined up behind a waist-high balustrade that separated the room in two. It didn’t smell of cigars or brandy. Instead, the dry scent of parchment, leather, and ink met Snowy’s nostrils like incense in a church. Apart from the man at the desk outside of the balustrade, none of the industrious clerks looked up from their work.
Snowy placed a card showing his new-found name on the desk in front of the man who had noticed their entry. He stood, immediately. “If you and your party will come this way, my lord. Mr. Fortescue will be with you shortly.”
Snowy offered Lily his arm, and Gary followed along behind.
The clerk bowed them into a comfortable parlor, tastefully furnished and decorated. Gary whistled when the man left the room. “This is a bit of all right, isn’t it? Shouts ‘Trust us. We know what we’re doing.’”
Lily smiled. “Appearances set the scene,” she agreed. “Appear as if you are well-rewarded for what you do, and you will be.” She had achieved the same message, if in a very different style, with the House of Blossoms.
Snowy ignored the byplay. His muscles twitched with the need to run as far and as fast as possible. “My lord,” the clerk had called him, as if he had already decided to take the title and had won it from his father’s thieving cousin. For now, Snowy’s battle was to stay where he was and to keep his face impassive. He was finding it a difficult one to win.
Being here is committing to nothing.
The clerk returned with a tray containing tea makings and the appropriate crockery, followed by another clerk carrying plates of small savories and cakes. No apple pies, Snowy was disappointed to note. They offloaded their trays onto the table in front of Lily, then the first clerk took both trays and the second went to sit behind the desk.
The first clerk’s exit from the room was interrupted by the entrance of a gentleman who brought such a sense of presence with him he could only be a principal of the firm, and that impression was cemented when he stepped forward with his hand out, saying to Lily, “Mistress Larissa Halcombe, I assume. It is a pleasure to meet you at long last, madam.”
His salutation reminded Snowy that he wasn’t the only one in the House of Blossoms with a made-up name.
The solicitor bowed over Lily’s hand, then turned to Snowy. “You are Snowden’s son. You look very much as Ned did when we were in Brasenose together. It is a pleasure to meet you, my lord. I am Fortescue.”
Snowy shook the man’s proffered hand, but protested, “‘My lord’ is a little premature, Mr. Fortescue. I have yet to be resurrected from the dead and, if I decide to take that step, I will still need to prove I am who I say I am.”
“There are difficulties, I do not deny it.” Mr. Fortescue tossed his hand as if throwing them over his shoulder, a broad grin suggesting he was eager to overcome any challenges. He turned his attention to Gary.
“This is my friend and adviser,” Snowy began.
“Gaheris Fullerton,” Fortescue said. “One of the smartest young barristers in the Inns of Court. Your principal asked me to read the opinion he had you write on the Hadfield case, young Fullerton. Cogently argued.” He shook Gary’s hand, then gestured to the nearby chairs. “Please, all of you, sit down. Mistress Halcombe, would you be kind enough to preside over the teapot?” Once everyone was comfortably seated, he said, “Now, what do you want from me, young man, if you do not wish to—as you say—be resurrected from the dead?”
Snowy knew the answer to that. “Information,” he replied. “I know that my father’s cousin was my mother’s second husband. That my mother believed her husband had paid for my kidnapping and murder. That he has benefited from deaths in his family and among business rivals and associates. That he has a reputation as a hard man, and that his servants fear him.”
