Page 38 of A Waltz on the Wild Side (The Wild Wynchesters #6)
As Graham rushed out of the house, Viv prayed for Quentin’s health and safety.
Jacob stepped closer. “The Lord S hypothesis makes sense.”
Philippa nodded. “Maybe that’s why Quentin was taken. He isn’t experienced at espionage—and our villain definitely seems the sort to be breaking laws he wouldn’t wish witnesses to observe. If a man like that caught Quentin in the wrong place at the wrong time, we’re lucky…”
We’re lucky he didn’t kill him.
The words hung in the air, unspoken and deadly. Viv thanked the gods Quentin was still alive… for now. She had to bring him back home, safe and sound.
Mr. Randall appeared in the doorway. “Apologies for the interruption. A young boy just brought a letter addressed to Mr. Olivebury.”
Marjorie groaned. “Can one of our cases leave us alone for just a moment?”
Jacob hurried over to read the letter, then confirmed, “The blackmailer again. Instructing Mr. Olivebury to quash all talk of voting reform in the House of Commons—and warning Olivebury not to come to us for aid under any circumstances.”
“We don’t have time to aid,” muttered Adrian.
“Wait,” said Viv. “Can I see that letter?”
Jacob handed it to her. “What are you thinking?”
Marjorie’s eyes lit up. “Handwriting!”
Viv placed the blackmailer’s letter onto the table next to the kidnapper’s letter. “Do you see what I see?”
“Both are written by the same person,” crowed Marjorie.
“Then the thief was never Mrs. Olivebury,” said Jacob. “She might have motive to remove a portrait of a mistress, but she has no reason to kidnap Quentin.”
“If anything, a politically minded woman like her would blackmail Parliament in favor of suffrage,” Viv agreed.
“So we’re back to Lord S,” Jacob said. “Aristocrats who oppose giving commoners the vote.”
“Does this put Philippa’s Marquess of Leisterdale theory back into play?” Adrian asked.
She flipped through her notes. “Inconclusive. Leisterdale was one of dozens of lords present in London for each of the dates of the blackmail letters, the kidnapping letters, and the Olivebury robbery.”
Jacob tapped his chin. “Can correspondence sent to Ask Vivian be traced?”
“Not by me. Each incoming letter is stripped of names and addresses, and is assigned a temporary number instead. I have to return the whole thing with my replies. A clerk at the newspaper sends my answers and the original letters to the associated party.”
“And every clerk at every newspaper is overworked and underpaid,” Jacob said with a groan. “Our few informants barely have time to glance up from their desks. I doubt any extra records are kept. There’s simply no time, much less storage space. Nonetheless, we’ll see what Graham can do.”
“Maybe there’s something I can do,” said Viv.
“I have a daily column that we know the kidnapper reads. Now that three different cases have combined into one, we also know more about the villain than we did before. Perhaps through my column, I can convince him that I am a like-minded soul of great influence and spur him to send me another letter.”
“Won’t it arrive in the clerk’s handwriting?” Adrian said doubtfully.
“We already have samples of his handwriting,” Viv pointed out. “What we need is for him to give up a clue that leads us to Quentin.”
“It’s a marvelous idea,” said Jacob. “Will the paper allow you to print any text that you like?”
Viv made a face. “Only direct replies to letters received.”
“Done,” said Marjorie. “I’ll have a sufficiently vague query in the clerk’s hands before Graham is back from Newt’s. You’ll be able to reply however you please.”
Viv nodded. “With luck, my answer will be printed in tomorrow morning’s edition.”
“Which gives us time to try and install someone at the clerk’s office to trace any future correspondence from the kidnapper.”
“Or to bribe the clerk himself,” Jacob added, then grimaced. “There we go again, thoughtlessly committing multiple crimes at once—”
“Find Quentin,” Viv said hoarsely. “Use every privilege and resource at your disposal. We’ll debate the legalities once he’s home safe.”
“All right,” said Marjorie. “We reconvene in an hour, once Graham’s home and the others have arrived. Meanwhile, we all have tasks to attend to—”
“What am I supposed to do?” asked Viv. “Stare at the walls?”
“Draft your bait for Lord S,” Jacob suggested.
“And then what? Should we confront the Marquess of Leisterdale?”
“We don’t know that he’s involved,” Jacob reminded her. “If he is behind this, he may be prepared for a counterattack. We don’t want to do anything that might risk Quentin’s safety. As hard as it sounds, the best thing you can do right now is wait for further developments.”
“I can’t sit still, I’ll go mad. I need to clear my head.” She spun toward the door. “I’m going for a walk.”
Jacob rushed to block her path, then held out his elbow. “I’ll accompany you.”