to wed an Irish Protestant peeress in the Anglican Church, but he merely laughed. âYou mean, if they really are married. Theyâve been a devoted couple for over thirty years, so I donât suppose it much matters anymore.â
While Penelope made inconsequent conversation, she felt a growing impatience. She must use this opportunity to discover if Mr. Rex would tell her something of N.D. and Collatinus. Her fatherâs old friend was the obvious person to ask; he must know a great deal about the letters he himself had published. In fact, it was possible Rex himself had been the one to resurrect Collatinus. He seemed an obvious suspect, but, then again, so was Penelope herself, particularly if someone knew her father had penned the originals. She was a radicalâs daughter, after all.
Dutifully, Jeremy remained at her side, bringing her a glass of champagne and introducing her to a government minister named George Kester and a married couple, Mr. and Mrs. Ralph Hewitt. She had heard these names before, for Jeremy had been enthusiastic in his praise of his new acquaintancesâ stature in society. Penelope was less impressed. An aging beau in a too-tight coat, Kester was clearly bored with the company. Similarly, Hewitt, a balding, good-humored man, smiled and nodded at acquaintances in the crowd as he listened to his wifeâs prattle with only half an ear. For her part, Mrs. Hewitt couldnât take her eyes off Jeremy.
âWeâve just heard the most shocking rumor, Mr. Wolfe. Mr. Rexâs son-in-law Dryden Leach slain in his own office. I vow it terrifies me to think of it. Mr. Rex wonât confirm the rumors, but I had it from the Countessââ
âWe donât yet know the truth of the matter,â said Hewitt.
George Kester shook his head. âA strange business. If something did happen, it wasnât reported in this morningâs paper. And what of this masked man?â Leaning toward Hewitt, he lowered his tone. âIs the masked man Collatinus, do you think? These letters have caused concern in some quarters.â
Ralph Hewitt gave a crack of laughter. âYou mean, with half the men in London terrified of finding themselves the subject of a paragraph in the newspaper? You include yourself, I take it?â
Smiling blandly, Kester steered the conversation into a new channel. Penelope raised her brows at Jeremy, hoping he would encourage further discussion, but he ignored the message. After a while, Penelope tried again. âAre you acquainted with Mr. Leach?â she asked Hewitt.
âWe all are. I believe your father is also an old friend of the family? You are the daughter of Eustace Sandford, Mrs. Wolfe? I met him once. He is quite celebrated in his way, though I donât claim to have read any of his books.â
She grew uncomfortable under his ironic assessment. âMy father has not returned to his native country in nearly twenty years, sir. Though I visited England with him when I was a small child, I was raised abroad.â
This drew Kesterâs wandering attention. His eye lingered over her face and moved lower. âYou must have been a mere babe. I must say you have matured delightfully, maâam.â He exchanged a smirk with Hewitt that made her suddenly angry.
âShe has indeed,â said Hewitt. âWhere have you been hiding her, Wolfe?â
âOh, Iâm afraid my wife doesnât approve of the fashionable scene.â
Penelope stiffened. âYou make me sound a Puritan.â She paused. âHas Mr. Leach been successful in the newspaper business, Mr. Hewitt?â
âThere were lean times at the start, I believe, but he made a name for himself at the Daily Intelligencer . It didnât hurt to have Rexâs blunt behind him. Mary Leach was well dowered, and thatâs how Leach found the capital to become editor-proprietor of a newspaper. Of course, Rex had no notion he was hatching a