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“Yes!” Felicity burst out. “Yes, of course! Griffin—Mr. Calderbank and I are not married!”

Aye, lass, but ye asked me to show ye pleasure.

“I ken, Miss Montrose, but…” With a sigh, Thorne crossed to the desk and leaned one hip casually against it, as if this were his home and he were the one conducting the interview. “This is the sort of opportunity we need, and never expected to get.”

“Explain,” barked Griffin.

Thorne inclined his head. “I’m hoping Felicity kens about the investigation, enough that I can speak freely in front of her…?”

Griffin turned to her. Fook, as far as he could tell, she knew almost as much as he did about the hunt for William Blackrose, and that was with Thorne stopping by weekly to give him updates!

Several years back, Blackrose had decided the “spy” ring he was running—the ring which wasn’t working for the British government at all, unbeknownst to the men involved—had earned him enough money, and he needed to disappear. He’d started killing off his agents, or—in the case of Griffin—having them kill one another.

Then last year, one of his last remaining agents, Sophia Cuny, had escaped him with a cache of evidence and run to Rourke Lindsay, once known as Blackrose’s Blade, now the Duke of Exingham. The one somehow related to Bull—a cousin, perhaps? Together, Exingham and Miss Cuny had lured Blackrose out into the open. The man had escaped, but he’d done so thinking the evidence against him had been destroyed.

The news had kindled a tiny spark of hope in Griffin’s chest.

After Rourke and Sophia’s marriage, the pair of them had worked with Thorne and a former partner, Demon Hayle—now the Duke of Lickwick—to trace Blackrose. Part of the scheme had been to buy Blackrose’s brother’s debt, which his daughter offered to pay. The plan hadn’t worked out quite as they’d imagined, but with Demon now married to Blackrose’s niece, they’d been able to track him to his hiding spot in Canada.

Now that Blackrose’s crimes were known and he was being actively hunted, Griffin had felt it safe enough to bring his family back to London. And now that he was here, Thorne had kept him updated with weekly reports. The viscount was confident they would be able to track down the bastard and drag him—or lure him—back to Britain. Once here, they’d trap him with the evidence Exingham was keeping safe.

But…Griffin couldn’t take on this fight. His family had to come first.

Until Blackrose was dead, Marcia and Rupert were in danger.

But Thorne was leaning against his desk, looking expectant. And next door there was a man who believed all sorts of lies about Griffin, who wanted to make him a duke. A God-damned duke!

Right now, listening to what Thorne had to say seemed somehow the lesser of the two evils. “Aye,” he managed to croak. “Aye, tell us everything.”

“Verra well.” Thorne took a deep breath, then settled himself more comfortably. “Ye ken we’ve been keeping track of Blackrose and his correspondence. We’ve noticed a biweekly packet shipped to him, from Peasgoode.”

“The duke?” Felicity interrupted, aghast.

The blond man shrugged. “Possibly. Possibly someone near to him, or someone working on his orders. Such as his secretary.”

“What do the packets contain?” Griffin could feel Felicity trembling, which was strange, considering how strong she was. He squeezed her.

Again, Thorne shrugged. “We dinnae ken. Blackrose is getting money from somewhere. We thought it was his brother, the Earl of Bonkinbone, but it’s possible Peasgoode is supplying him with funds to hide in Canada. If it is Peasgoode, then the man is either as guilty as Blackrose, or is being blackmailed.”

Griffin growled, “Either way, he’ll have access to Blackrose.”

“Aye, exactly. Rourke and I have been trying to arrange a meeting with Peasgoode, but the man never leaves his estate.”

“His secretary says he is quite infirm and elderly,” Felicity offered in a small voice.

“Aye, that’s what we’ve heard as well.” Thorne shifted with a wince. “And we cannae verra well march up to Peasgoode—do ye ken how remote the place is? Nae reason to accidentally find ourselves there—and demand what he’s sending to Blackrose. We need to be more subtle. Letters and bribes havenae worked so far, nae one claims to ken anything.”

And here Griffin had been invited to Peasgoode. Thorne was right; this was a golden opportunity.

The only issue was that his children would have to go with him.

The children—and Felicity—were the cover story he needed to get access to the elderly duke. Once on the estate, Griffin was confident he could sniff out subterfuge and discover why Peasgoode was sending information, and possibly money, to Blackrose.

But to do so, he’d have to risk Marcia and Rupert. And Bull. Though that was less of a worry.

Was it worth it? Nay, of course not!

Griffin’s mind raced. But…if bringing them to Peasgoode meant that he could help defeat Blackrose once and for all, it would mean they’d be safe. They’d never have to spend their lives looking over their shoulder, as Griffin did.