Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage] by What to Wear to a Seduction Read Free Book Online Page B

that simple. The man’s crafty. He has the payments exchanged for bits of damaging evidence, at fashionable affairs, if you can believe it. Balls, soirees and the like. He doesn’t set the terms of the delivery until the affair is in full swing. Usually by slipping a note to the target when he’s least expecting it. It’s a damned nuisance, I tell you.”
    Wheaton sniffed. “Then there’s the damaging stuff he leaves behind. He tends to leave little tidbits of the secrets, as if to tease his victims. Letters and the like, exposing some very sensitive surprises.” Exhaling noisily, he looked up. “All in all, this isn’t exactly a major threat to King and Country.” His lip curled. “And the victims are, well, Society.”
    “You were never particularly good at dealing with the aristocracy.”
    “Not my forte,” Wheaton agreed.
    “And you always tended to blame the victims of blackmail if I recall correctly.”
    “Who else is there to blame?”
    Sir Lee frowned. “Everyone has skeletons in the cupboard, Wheaton. A little compassion wouldn’t kill you, you know.”
    “In my line of work, I must hasten to disagree. Skeletons are enormously helpful…if properly aired.” Lifting his port he sipped and watched Sir Lee over the rim of his snifter. “But back to the matter at hand, the more vexing thing is that no one knows what Quince looks like.” His gaze sharpened. “Except you.”
    “I met him eighteen years ago, Wheaton. Once, and only for a moment at that. He couldn’t have been more than twenty. It’s not like he’d look the same in his late thirties. Moreover, what makes you think that it’s not someone else? Another servant perhaps or a friend of Valmont’s?”
    “Poppet’s gone missing. And Wiggins, too.”
    Sir Lee’s heart skipped a beat, a very frightening thing for a man over seventy. “Neither one of them has worked for us in years.”
    Wheaton smiled, clearly not missing Sir Lee’s reference indicating that he still considered himself part of the Foreign Office. Wheaton tossed some grease into the fire. “Poppet and Wiggins were the only two of our men yet alive who’d met Quince in his time in London. Except you.” He raised a snowy brow. “Do you think you ought to be worried?”
    “Nay. Quince didn’t know I was observing him.” Sir Lee shook his head, disturbed. His heart was heavy as he recalled Fred Poppet, a father of two with a flair for passing messages in crowded places. And Timothy Wiggins, a man with enough jokes in his repertoire tokeep even the most skittish informants at ease. Sir Lee’s hopes for them were slim. Pushing away the grief and homing in only on the strategy, he asked, “What are you proposing, Wheaton?”
    “Track him down and bring him in.”
    Sir Lee sat quietly a long moment. He’d been wishing for something very much like this for a long time now. Ever since his retirement years earlier. He’d imagined being called upon once again, as a hero, the only man to handle a dangerous situation that required his very special talents. But not at the cost of two men who’d served under him faithfully for years. Never would he have wanted it at his men’s expense.
    “How many men can you give me?” Sir Lee asked.
    “None. We can’t have any connection to this matter, I’m afraid. Too messy with the haut ton involved. But I have asked a couple of Bow Street Runners I know to back you.”
    “That’s pathetic,” Sir Lee growled. “Bow Street Runners are not professional intelligence officers. If two of your men had gone missing, you’d certainly find a way to supply more resources.”
    “Of course I would. But they’re not my men.” The ice in his gaze was only matched by the coolness of his tone. “I’m giving you all I have to give. But more to the point, this situation requires a delicate touch. We’re dealing with Society. Muckety-mucks with nasty secrets. Less is more.”
    Reaching into his pocket, Wheaton pulled out two folded