Page 98 of The Viscount's Seduction
“It’s possible,” Farnsworth said. “There were four men on that road. One might have been Donegal himself. What came of that business with the sewer, Lord Bakeley? Perhaps it’s related.”
He shook his head. “Routine stoppage, the men say, cleared away.” He was certain of it.
“Now there’s a bill for us to work on, Bink,” Charley said. “New sewer works. Bakeley, we’ll leave it to you to draft for us.”
He sent Charley a withering look.
“An anonymous note has been delivered,” Bakeley said. “It says that the writer stole a list in my possession that I was planning to deliver to the Irish Secretary upon his arrival in London next week. The writer is taking bids from each member on it, or their family members who wish to avoid the scandal. The highest bidder may proceed to destroy it or conduct his own blackmail as he wishes.”
“To recover his own losses.” Charley laughed. “That will appeal to any scoundrel. I’ll try again tonight to run into him.”
“I’ll join you,” Bakeley said. He’d like to size Hollister up before the man showed up on their doorstep.
“Besides Hollister, who are the other names on the list?” Bink asked.
Shaldon blinked. “The list will be fictitious. When it’s written, it will contain only one living man’s name. The rest will be Irish nationals who were uncovered and...thwarted.”
“Excellent.” Charley lolled back again. “And who is Hollister to make contact with?”
“We’re here to decide that today,” Bakeley said. “We’ll send a second missive with instructions. Can we assume he’ll have the delivery man followed?”
Kincaid and Farnsworth nodded.
“Very well,” Bakeley said. “Let’s demand an immediate reply. Then we must decide who’ll be the blackmailer.”
“Not you or Father, obviously,” Charley said. “Not Kincaid—too loyal. No one would believe in his betrayal. Not Farnsworth, since he’s not a bosom beau. Not Bink. He’s too thick-headed and stubborn to engage in blackmail.” Charley’s eyes glittered. “It must be me, the scatterbrained youngest son with an expensive mistress and gambling debts. Both are merely gossip, Father. You know I’m gathering information from the lady, who has plenty of money of her own, and I have been assiduously avoiding the tables.”
The thought of another brother being placed in danger gave Bakeley pause. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be one of us,” he said. “It could be one of Father’s men, posing as a footman or valet, someone who would have access to my rooms.”
“Our footmen are known to be rocks,” Charley said. “He would sniff that out immediately.”
An ache started up in the back of his head. “The new ones—“
“Were screened, were they not?” Charley asked.
Kincaid cleared his throat. “There is another possibility, if she’s willing.”
