Page 10 of A Proposition for the Comte
‘Like shoot a man in cold blood?’
He smiled. ‘That, too. Those in Paris who sent the gold to England in the first place now want it back, for it seems that their plans of a rebellion against the English way of life has come to nothing.’
‘That’s what this is about? Napoleon languishes at Elba. They can’t possibly think to keep his hopes of conquering Europe again alive.’
‘There were six substantial shipments of gold sent in the hopes of inciting insurgence. They stopped fourteen months ago.’
‘Shipments to whom?’
‘That’s the problem. Whoever received the gold was careful to hide their identity, but a small statue was sent anonymously to Paris warning against dispatching more. The gold marks on the piece had been tampered with and the bust consisted mostly of silver and lead.’
‘A way to hide the missing gold should anyone ask after it?’
‘Precisely. The jeweller who I am led to believe fashioned the piece is away from London until the week after next and has left no mention of his travel intentions. When I see him perhaps then there will be some answers.’
‘Leaving you as the one visible person trying to shed light on a world of greed?’
This time Lian laughed. ‘Everyone is expendable. You of all people would know that, Shay.’
‘Then get out. Come south to Sussex and stop. Settle down at Compton Park and become another man, a happier one, just as I have. Leave the gold alone and allow others to die for its recovery.’
Shay’s advice was so like the hope he had just been ruminating on that Lian felt the rip of it in his heart. ‘My father is still in Paris.’
‘So if you were to defect now he would be at risk?’
‘Precisely.’
He liked talking with Shay. He liked his honest astuteness. He liked that the shadows others never saw were so much part of what they both knew. It made the truth easy.
He could see the thoughts racing in his friend’s eyes and knew the moment when the tumblers clicked into place.
‘You’ve been made the damn bait for all of this?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you think you can win against everyone in a city that you no longer know well?’
‘It’s still possible. These people are sometimes like amateurs who are easy to gain the measure of.’
‘The other night did not sound so easy. Who the hell was it that rescued you, then?’
Lian gritted his teeth together and shook his head. He should have known that this would be the next question.
‘Lady Addington, a widow from Chelsea, brought me back to her home. I have found out since that she was married to Viscount Addington, a minor aristocrat from the north. She came down here to London after the death of her husband.’
‘Addington? The name is familiar although I cannot quite place it.’
‘A statue identical to the one that turned up in Paris sat on the mantel of her downstairs salon.’
The shock of that statement settled for a moment into the silence, vibrating into question.
‘So Violet Addington knew you would be there? On that particular street after midnight? She is involved?’
‘I hope not.’
‘Why?’
‘I’d be long dead if she had not picked me up out of the gutter. I think I owe her something for it.’
