Page 71 of What's an Earl Gotta Do?
“Yes,” Michael said. “I’m sure you can understand my unwillingness to leave my future bride unprotected at this time of night.”
Something softened in Arnold Price’s expression. “Is that true, your ladyship? He’s to be your husband?”
Anne didn’t know how to answer. “I… er… yes.”
Mr. Price considered for a moment, then shrugged. “I guess that’s all right, then.” He glanced up and down the alleyway—much more subtly than Michael had, Anne couldn’t help but note, then said in a low voice, “I’m a bricklayer by trade. Right now I’m working on the R.M.A. headquarters.”
“Is that so?” Anne said.
“It is.” He dropped his voice to a whisper. “Someone from Bow Street came around the site today, asking questions. Had we seen anyone bringing young boys to the site, or a shiny black carriage coming to pick them up. Then they started asking about some cove they pulled out of the river this morning. They said it was the same master sweep you had a run-in with the other day.”
“Mr. Smithers,” Anne supplied.
“Smithers, yeah. They asked if we’d seen him coming around or if we’d seen anything else that was suspicious.”
“I see,” Anne said. “And did you have anything to report to Bow Street?”
“I ain’t seen no boys being brought to the site, or no shiny black carriage or anything like that. But I can tell you, there’s something fishy going on at the R.M.A.” He shook his head. “I’ve been wanting to tell someone about it.”
“So why,” Michael asked, his voice clipped, “did you not tell the Bow Street runner who asked for that exact information? Why involve Lady Anne in this sordid business?”
“That’s the problem with constables, ain’t it? Three of them are fine, but then the fourth is in someone’s pocket. You can cause yourself a whole world of trouble if you say something to the wrong man. But between them asking about little boys being sold and then about Smithers, I figured it must involve that same business you got tangled up with the other day, m’lady. And I thought, that’s who I’ll tell. Lady Wynters. Because I know you’re not in anyone’s pocket.”
Anne was glad it was dark because she was fairly sure her cheeks were pink. “So, what exactly has been going on at the R.M.A.?”
“Someone’s pilfering the construction materials. I know that don’t sound like much, but they’re not doing it in a small way.” He leaned in. “Apparently about five thousand pounds’ worth of bricks went missing.”
“Is that sort of misappropriation not fairly common on a construction project?” Michael asked.
“Don’t mistake me,” Mr. Price said, “it is. Although not to the tune of five thousand pounds. Besides, Alexander Copeland is the overseer. The army always hires him because there’s never any funny business on an Alexander Copeland site. ‘The Emperor of Barrack-Builders,’ they call him. I know Mr. Copeland got called before the R.M.A.’s board for questioning. He walked the foundation himself, calculating exactly how many bricks went into it, and he was at a loss to explain where the rest had gone. Looked right upset about it, he did.” Mr. Price shook his head. “I think someone made off with those bricks, but I don’t think it was Alexander Copeland.”
“Do you have any idea who it might be?” Anne asked.
“I don’t, m’lady. The thing is, five thousand pounds’ worth of bricks is a lot to go missing. I doubt someone could haul that much off without being seen, even if they did it in the dead of night. And we’d have noticed that half the pile of bricks was gone.” He paused to glance over his shoulder. “That’s what makes me think the skimming happened on the front end. I don’t believe those bricks were even delivered.”
Anne caught Michael’s eye and wondered if he was thinking the same thing.
Someone on the R.M.A.’s Board.
Someone like Lord Gladstone.
“Is there any other suspicious activity?” Anne asked.
“No, m’lady. Not since they started asking questions about the bricks. Which maybe isn’t so surprising.”
“Indeed,” Anne said. “You’ve been tremendously helpful. I appreciate it more than I can say.”
Mr. Price waved this off. “Just doing my part. Skimming a few bricks is one thing. But if someone’s really been selling little boys as sweeps’ apprentices—that’s a nasty business, that is.” He grinned. “But they’ll rue the day they crossed our virago.”
Now Anne was sure she was blushing. “Oh… er…”
Mr. Price glanced around. “Well, that’s all I had to say. No use lingering.”
He melted into the darkness.
Michael was already towing Anne toward the main road, where he flagged down a hackney carriage.
Once the door closed, Anne pulled off her cloth cap. “It all fits. It all fits perfectly. It’s someone on the R.M.A.’s board. Who sits on the R.M.A.’s board, and is in dire financial straits? Gladsto—eemph!”
