Liam swallowed the lump in his throat. It seemed today was his day to be lectured by those younger than himself, and damn if both of them hadn’t had valid points to make. After a moment, he nodded at Tom, who had just proclaimed himself family. It was perhaps the greatest compliment Liam had ever received. “Thanks.”
“No worries. You’d do the same for me.” Tom winked and rubbed his hands together. “Now, I believe you’re about to introduce me to Miss Lolly Luscious.”
Liam punched the younger man’s arm lightly as they got out of the hack. “Behave, pup.”
Tom grinned. “Make me.”
* * *
Wink studied another sheaf of printouts and sighed. “None of the men on Liam’s list own any suspicious property. We’re still whistling in the wind on this one, boys.” The duke had managed to get them a copy of the national property register on tickertape to load into the Order’s analytical engine so they could work from the Club. Kendall and his father had already left for Windsor with the royal family, so there would be no further help from them.
Jamie and Connor both groaned and went back to sorting through their own stacks of papers.
“Maybe I can help.” They all looked up as Piers sauntered into the room, looking dapper in a black frock coat and gray top hat with a black alligator-skin valise in his hand. He was shorter than either of the others, but still a good height, with a build more lean than muscular—nothing like the frail child he’d been. His medium brown hair was cut elegantly short and slicked back. Beneath silver-rimmed spectacles, his eyes were dark today, matching his fine cashmere suit. His hazel eyes were even more changeable than Wink’s, going anywhere from blue as Tom’s to almost as brown as Liam’s.
Obviously he’d bypassed the front door and avoided the Club’s steward. “I was able to make contact with the younger sons’ group at Cambridge. I’ve brought you a list of names, including the man who seems to be the recruiter.”
Wink scowled. “Your term isn’t over until next week. What are you doing here? Why the hell is everyone leaving school all at the same time?” She glared at Jamie as well as Piers.
Piers hung his coat and hat on a rack in the corner. His eyes sparkled with humor and wicked intelligence. Wink paused a moment to enjoy the sight of her once sickly little brother, now at eighteen, taller than her, and fit and lean. He came over to kiss her cheek. “I took my exams early. Told the dons there was a family emergency. Trust me, it’ll be fine. They’re not going to kick out their top student, after all. They waved a cheerful good-bye and said see you in the fall.”
Jamie stuck out his tongue. “Bootlicker.”
“Idiot. Have you been sent down again?” Piers scrubbed Jamie’s head with his knuckles. “Papa’s going to have your hide.”
“All right, boys, this isn’t the nursery,” Connor said. “Piers, let’s see what you’ve got.”
Piers reached into his valise and withdrew a notebook. “Here’s the list of names. The ringleader is a chap named Kersleigh. He’s organizing a picket line to protest at the races.”
“Kersleigh.” Wink’s fingers quivered as she snatched the notebook. “Well, we knew he was involved in this somewhere.”
“Anyway, I followed him to his lodgings,” Piers said. “The innkeeper said he’s there a couple times a month. Sometimes he’s alone, but once in a while he’s with another man. One Lord Trumball. Haven’t seen him, though, so I couldn’t tell you what he looks like.”
“Trumball. Does that ring any bells for anyone?” Connor asked.
They all shook their heads.
“I’ve got Debrett’s programmed into the engine,” Wink said. “If he’s actually a lord, we can find out quickly enough.” She sat down to the terminal connected to the massive analytical engine residing in one of the basement levels of the club and used a keypunch machine to enter the search request. “I’m working on getting newspapers entered, but we’re not there yet. Especially not the society pages.”
“Why bother with that?” Piers frowned. “If you want the last sixty years of the society pages catalogued in one place, why not simply telephone the dowager duchess?”
“Brilliant,” Connor said.
“Why didn’t we think of that?” Wink sent her brother a pleading look. “Piers, would you make the call?”
He shook his head. Wink looked to Connor and Jamie, but both of them glanced away, Connor studying the ceiling while Jamie busied himself in a sheaf of printouts.
“Oh, fine. Three big strong men afraid of one little old lady.” She shook her head at the lot of them. “You ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Fine, then. One of you read the Debrett’s printout when it finishes. I’ll go ring her grace.”
The telephone was in another room, actually an antechamber of the duke’s private office. Wink keyed in the numeric code for the ducal seat in Kent and spoke first to a servant, and then to Amy as the dowager was fetched. Well into her seventies, she’d begun taking afternoon naps, Wink learned, but thankfully, her mind was as sharp as ever.
The only problem was that her grace truly loved to talk. In her mind, the telephone was the greatest invention since the whalebone corset, since it allowed her to chatter even with those who weren’t nearby. Wink was forced to first give a report on each member of her family, on Kendall and the duke. Finally the duchess asked, “And how is that handsome young inspector of yours, darling? Has he come up to snuff yet?”
Liam would be horrified if he heard that, but Wink knew better than to try to correct the duchess. “Not yet, I’m afraid, but Inspector McCullough is well, your grace. He’s working with the Order on this Ascot business you know. If you don’t mind, I think you may be able to help us on a small related matter.”
“Of course, darling.” Wink could almost see her grin and rub her hands together. “Delighted to be of assistance.”
“Wonderful. Have you ever heard of a Lord Trumball?”
“Trumball? Hmm. It rings a bell. Let me see. Trundell—no, couldn’t be him. Senile old coot. Turnblat—no, that was just a nickname. Trumball. Oh yes, of course! We called him Lord Trumped-Up. I don’t know how he could be involved in your case, though. He was the same age as me, or thereabouts. I think he died half a dozen years ago.”
“Who was his heir?” Unless the title had gone extinct and was being used in a fraudulent manner that had to be their man. “And do you know the family name?”
“I believe the name is actually Trumball, dear. Prinny just popped a title on Old Trumped-Up’s so-called father to thank him. They married just before she popped.”
“Who married, your grace?” Wink could never quite keep up with the twists and turns of the duchess’s thought process.
“You wouldn’t remember them, dear. By that time, the Trumballs didn’t go out much in Society. Too much scandal you know. They never had any use for each other and both were always getting caught in one affair after another.” The duchess drew in a deep breath. “Very well. Here’s the brief version. Let’s see—the elder Trumball was a soldier, I believe. Can’t remember the man’s given name. The girl—Lucinda? Lucilla?—anyway, she was the daughter of some courtier or another and got a mite too friendly with the prince. When Prinny—he wasn’t regent then of course, just Prince of Wales—found out she was with child, he got her married off to Trumball and had him elevated to a viscount. This would be in about ’84 or so.”
“So the heir, who you said was your age, wasn’t really Trumball’s son?” Wink began making notes.
“Of course not. Quincy, his name was. Used to brag that he was the real heir to the throne as the oldest of all Prinny’s bastards and yet his actual title was so new it squeaked. That’s why we called him Lord Trumped-Up.”
“Heavens.” Wink wrote furiously. “That goes a long way toward explaining a grudge against the throne.”
“Yes, yes it could,” the duchess said. “Trumped-Up used to hate the idea of a woman on the throne. It was all about male superiority with him, never mind l
egitimacy. I’d presume his children would think the same way.”
“This is wonderful information. Do you know if he had any children?” Wink dipped her pen again. “Maybe even grandchildren by this point.”
“Trumped-Up married late, and it was a horrible mistake. That’s why I said they weren’t welcome in Society. They were both famous for catting around without bothering to be discreet. There was a son, I think. He’d be a little younger than Kendall. Now that I think of it, I believe there was also a bastard he took in, just to rub his wife’s nose in his affaires. Kirby or Curry, or something like that.”
“Kersleigh?” Wink swallowed hard.
“Yes, that could be it. Tell me, dear, are Trumped-Up’s sons involved in this plot?” The duchess sighed. “What a shame. He was such a wet noodle that I wouldn’t have believed it, but I don’t know the boys at all.”
“We don’t know for certain,” Wink said. “But I need to contact his grace with this information.”
“Well, naturally. So glad I could help. Give that nice inspector a kiss for me, will you?”
“Good afternoon, your grace. Thank you very much.” Wink shook her head and set down the receiver. She turned to the others. “I think we have our man—or more accurately, men.”
“Really?” Liam strolled in with a rolled-up piece of paper under his arm, Tom beside him. “Are we too late to help save the day?”
“Not if that’s the sketch of our mastermind.” Wink turned to the others. “According to her grace, Viscount Trumball and Kersleigh are half-brothers and their father may well have been a bastard of George IV. Maybe even the oldest son. Kersleigh was also born on the wrong side of the blanket, but the two were apparently raised together.”
Connor held up a piece of paper. “I’ve got the Debrett’s listing. Jeremy George Trumball, third Viscount Trumball, born 1826. Only legitimate child of Quincy Trumball, the second viscount, born in 1784. The family’s estate is over near Bath, so that can’t be the base of operations we’re looking for. Kersleigh isn’t listed.”
“No, they wouldn’t mention any illegitimate offspring. I wonder if we can turn up a portrait of Lord Trumball—and if so, will it match this?” Tom unrolled a sheet of drawing paper to reveal a rather average-looking man. He was perhaps a little overweight, with dark hair and eyebrows and a prominent Roman nose.
“Something about the nose reminds me of Kersleigh,” Wink said. “Don’t you think?”
“It is a rather impressive specimen,” Piers agreed. “And it does, kind of, remind me of some of the royal family.”
Tom shrugged. “But those features are common enough that the same could be said for half of England, and probably most Germans to boot.”
“Hell, even my father and brother could fit that description,” Liam said. “So you can add the Irish.”
Everyone nodded.
“Well,” Jamie said, “back to property records, I suppose. We’ll look for Trumball this time. It’s more than we had before.”
“I need to get back to the Yard.” Liam scrubbed his hand through his hair before putting on his hat. Lines of fatigue or strain marred his forehead and his shoulders drooped, though not enough that anyone but her was likely to notice. Was he just tired? Or was something wrong? “Telephone or send for me if anything new comes up.”
“Can I catch a lift with you?” Piers asked. “I’d like to stop by home and unpack. I’ll catch back up with the others at supper.”
Wink watched Liam as he left with Piers beside him. Somehow, she needed to find a way to go to him tonight. But how, with four watchful siblings in the house?
* * *
“So how was Cambridge?” Liam settled into the hack across from Piers. He’d spent more on cabs today than he usually did in a month but honestly it was a nice change from walking everywhere.
Piers shrugged. “All right. I keep trying to get my tutors to pick up the pace, but they insist on going slow as tortoises. Mostly I keep myself from dying of boredom by reading.”
“What, no sneaking out to chat up barmaids?” Liam remembered that activity fondly from his own university days.
Piers flushed and looked away. “Not often, at any rate.” Then he cleared his throat. “But it’s not my love life I wanted to talk to you about. It’s yours. What are your intentions toward Wink?”
Liam burst out laughing. “All three of you in one day. Unbelievable.”
“Oh. Sorry about that.” Piers shrugged. “So? What did you tell them?”
“That whatever happens, Winifred and I will sort out between us, without any interference from helpful brothers.”
“Do you love her?”
Liam gaped for a second. Neither Tom nor Jamie had asked that question. In fact, Liam had rather determinedly not asked it of himself. He paused to consider his answer. “I don’t know. I’d always assumed I’m not capable of that emotion.”
Piers just rolled his eyes.
Liam forgot about the young man across from him and gave a hard look at his own psyche. “You know, I suppose I do.” He spoke slowly, testing out the words as he said each one. Hell, of course he loved her. Otherwise he’d have never given in to her the previous night, never risked his friendships and his bachelorhood. “I don’t know that it changes anything, though.” Being in love wasn’t a solution. All that was going to do was make it even harder for him to walk away.
“For what it’s worth,” Piers said, “I think it changes everything. Most importantly, I think you need to tell her that. Then the two of you can sort things out.”
Liam drew in a deep breath. Should he? Would confessing his emotions only hurt her more when he left? Furthermore, what if she didn’t love him? She’d talked about desire at length but never mentioned the other. Wouldn’t he look like a fool, telling her he loved her if she was only in it for the passion? His temples throbbed. “I think I’ve had all the lessons and lectures I can cope with for today. I’ll take yours under advisement.”
“Good.” Piers nodded and looked out the window as they pulled up in front of Hadrian House. “You know, you really ought to buy a steam car. You’d save a fortune on cabs.”
Chapter Eleven
Liam ate a hearty meal and watched the antics around him with a fond smile. Supper at Hadrian House that night was a raucous affair. Dorothy and Miss Julian presided over the table, while the Wapping Five as Liam would always think of them, enjoyed a noisy reunion. Tom’s earlier words echoed in Liam’s mind. Did they really consider him family? Moreover, what had he ever done to deserve it? As if to underscore that line of thought, a single fresh pea bounced off the end of his nose, generating a chorus of mirth.
“Who did that?” He looked around at the five laughing faces as the others all turned to Nell, who stared up at the ceiling with an exaggerated air of innocence.
The quiet one was the culprit. Everyone looked to Liam, waiting for his response. What would he do if she were actually his sister? Ah. With a grin, he picked the pea off the tablecloth and carefully tossed it into Nell’s half-empty glass of wine. “There. Turnabout is fair play.”
Everyone, even Nell and Dorothy, laughed. A little more of Liam’s carefully constructed defenses slid away.
“It’s so good to have you all home,” Dorothy said. “Now that you’re all so grown up, it’s rare to see you together like this.”
“The last time was at Vivi’s christening,” Nell said wistfully. “In February.”
Liam remembered that, having gone up to Northumberland to meet the youngest Hadrian. In fact, he was one of the baby’s godfathers.
“Before that was last summer.” Piers took a bite of roast mutton. “At Geneva’s wedding.” A round of nods confirmed that. Liam had missed the older MacKay girl’s nuptials up in the Hebrides.
“But Liam wasn’t there.” Jamie shot him a reproachful look. “Or at Christmas, either. Mum was disappointed.”
Wink undoubtedly had been too. Liam winced. He’d never meant to hurt Caroline’s feeli
ngs, and he still had no idea what to do about Wink’s.
“And I missed the Yuletide celebrations as well.” Tom wrinkled his nose. “Hopefully this year I can avoid a mission right on the holiday.”
“It’s only natural that we all go our separate ways as we get older,” Wink said. “But I’m glad you’re all here now.” She smiled at all of them, but her gaze lingered on Liam.
“Here, here.” Tom lifted his glass and quirked an eyebrow at Liam. “To family.”
Ah, hell. They’d claimed him and he wasn’t going to throw away a gift like that. “To family.” Liam echoed the toast and drank along with the rest—even Nell, who managed to avoid the pea in her glass.
After the meal was finished, Nell went off to a party with Dorothy and Miss Julian. Wink suggested a billiards tournament, but Tom shook his head. “All the lads are going out to carouse for a while. Care to come along, Liam?”
It sounded like fun, and for half a second, Liam was tempted. He had himself just about convinced to let his guard down with this lot. Then he looked over at Wink and shook his head. “I’ll stand for the male gender in the billiards match, if you don’t mind. Wouldn’t be fair to leave your sister here on her own.” While it would be torture to spend time alone with Wink and not touch her, he was afraid if he went, she’d follow them.
Each and every one of her brothers winked at him. As the other males made their exit, Wink rolled her eyes and laughed. “It’s a conspiracy.”
Liam scratched his chin. “Did they really just arrange it for us to be here all alone?”
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