Page 23 of Lyon’s Obsession (The Lyon’s Den Connected World #91)
A s he had done every evening since this madness began, Alexander had made his appearance at one of the scheduled entertainments before he called in at the house the Crown’s investigation employed to watch over the Honfleur household.
“You are early,” Thompson remarked from his place near the window. “I am surprised Duncan permitted your abandonment again.”
“Duncan and Theodora were not in attendance,” Alexander explained.
Thompson shrugged in nonchalance. “The lady’s monthlies or is Theodora spending time with Count Almano? I heard the man calls on her regularly?”
“I did not inquire of Lord Duncan as to the disposition of his daughter’s complaints or of her callers,” Alexander retorted.
He wished everyone would not assume a marriage would occur between him and Theodora.
He was not yet prepared to claim a wife, especially not since discovering the girl he knew as “Miss Moreau” could be his sister.
Since gaining that information, he had hoped for a few brief moments to speak to the young woman again so he might look upon her with “new” eyes, but Duncan had squashed those hopes with his reprimand regarding their investigation.
Now, for all he prayed was an early end to these conspiratorial manipulations.
He wished for a family of his own, but his first duty was to bring Annalise home. She had suffered long enough.
Alexander had solemnly promised both Lord Duncan and the acting Prime Minister he would not jeopardize their investigation by approaching “Miss Moreau” before the government could close the net about Honfleur, Yates, and more than two dozen others who obviously planned to compromise the British banking system, but he would gladly see it come to an end sooner, rather than later.
“Was Honfleur at the entertainment you attended?” Thompson asked.
“Not at the ball, but he was at the theater, sitting with Lady Winston and her son. It appears Honfleur means to court her ladyship.”
Thompson looked to Alexander in apparent surprise. “With young Mr. Winston courting Honfleur’s daughter? He has been sniffing around her a great deal of late. Always in her entourage.”
“I do not think the girl ‘has taken’ as they say in society circles. Fewer and fewer gentlemen seek her hand at balls. The only ones hanging on are younger sons or those whose estates are deeply in debt. They all assume Honfleur has money, and the girl will inherit,” Alexander explained.
Thompson returned to watching the house, but he continued to converse.
“Lord Ward says Honfleur does not even employ a proper butler. Ward has called upon Lady Caroline several times, and, with each call, he was greeted by a woman he assumed to be Honfleur’s housekeeper.
All very ‘middle class,’ as Ward declared.
His lordship also spoke of the lack of what he termed ‘cleanliness’ in the house.
There was reportedly a patina of dust on the furniture one would never discover in the finer houses.
When Beaufort has called on the chit, he escorts her to the nearby park.
He has only been inside twice and only to the foyer. ”
Alexander observed, “Evidently, Lady Caroline does not demonstrate her ability to manage a proper household. All of her suitors—those who truly hope for a connection—should take note.”
“Ward seemed to think Honfleur has either not provided his daughter a proper education with the assistance of a governess or the man has not ceded control of the house servants to Lady Caroline,” Thompson said with a cheeky grin.
“I am assuming you did not provide Lord Ward the truth of Honfleur’s situation.
As the marquis is not a peer, nor even a gentleman, therefore, he does not fully understand the quality of care expected.
Hell, we already know Honfleur is not even a Frenchman, in addition not to being an aristocrat.
I can imagine London’s outrage when it too learns it all.
There will be those who call foul, and others who point fingers in jest.”
Thompson’s smile widened. “As I never much cared for Lord Ward’s desperation, nor his gossipy nature, I have neglected my duty to the man.
In my opinion, soon Beaufort will be Lady Caroline’s only ‘possible’ suitor, making it easier to earn her trust and for us to learn something of importance from her less than desirable lips. ”
Alexander swallowed his first response. None of his fellow agents, except for the likes of Lionel Carter, had truly known desperation, not in the manner in which Alexander had experienced it.
His life, before becoming Marksman, provided a different perspective, and, although he was not particularly fond of Lord Ward’s insipid nature, he understood the gentleman’s reluctance to seek gainful employment, rather than to marry a woman he would despise.
It was a way of life for the English aristocracy. One performed as one had been taught.
“Has anyone observed Miss Moreau?” Alexander asked with as much casualness as he could muster.
“Lionel has spotted her a few times at a window on the top floor, which must surely be the attic or drying room,” Thompson shared.
“She sat in the garden for a quarter hour yesterday and the same two days prior. I do not understand why she is not permitted more freedom. I assume you already know the lady has appeared briefly at the corner window on the left-hand side of the building on several occasions.” Alexander knew the window well.
When he watched the house, he concentrated on that particular windowpane in hopes of a glimpse of his sister.
“Do you possess an inkling as to why Honfleur brought her along on this venture?”
Alexander had repeatedly thanked the Lord above for bringing Annalise back to England, no matter what had been Honfleur’s plan. “In truth, very little Honfleur does makes sense, at least to those of us who constantly observe his comings and goings.”
“Speaking of ‘comings and goings,’” Thompson said without turning his head to look upon Alexander, “your friend Lionel has solved the mystery of how Honfleur often turns up at an event without ever summoning his carriage. There is an extra-long ‘walled entrance,’ for lack of another word to describe it, serving some six of the homes along the street. We all thought the structures were some sort of root cellar, but we were wrong. A person can cross through the passage and exit near the mews.”
“Interesting,” Alexander murmured. Perhaps he could use the passage to reach Annalise when Honfleur made his move against the English government.
Alexander was determined to be in a position to prevent Honfleur from involving Annalise in his plan to destroy England’s economy.
“How did Lionel manage that particular bit of information?”
“He was near the mews when Honfleur and Lady Caroline exited the opening along a line of shrubbery,” Thompson explained. “Pretended to be employed in the mews and hid behind a horse in its stall, so he would not be recognized. He is quite a resourceful chap when he needs to be.”
Alexander observed, “This information goes a long way in proving Honfleur’s poor upbringing. No English aristocrat, nor a French one, in my opinion, would dare to be caught exiting a root cellar in his evening clothes.”
“One can imagine what extremes Lady Caroline must execute not to have the hem of her gown or her evening slippers dirtied by a damp and sometimes filthy floor,” Thompson suggested in irony.
“Must be carrying her shoes and have her dress hitched up to her waist. Wouldn’t mind a gander at that spectacle. ”
Alexander ignored his friend wiggling his eyebrows in an intended jest. “The passage cannot be more than a few feet wide,” he considered.
“We will discover the truth of it,” Thompson explained, “as Lionel meant to enter it this evening to learn more of the trek from the mews to Honfleur’s home.”
Alexander loosened his cravat and tossed it across the back of a chair. “Lionel is always resourceful,” he declared, “but perhaps I could provide him an extra hand. I will return shortly to relieve you of your watch.”
“What be ye doin’ here?” Lionel asked when Alexander entered the mews. Alexander had employed a dark scarf around his neck and tucked it into his waistcoat to create the illusion of being dressed all in black.
“You should not tackle these tasks without someone to assist you,” Alexander explained, as if such was his real purpose, but he knew his friend would see through the guise.
Lionel frowned deeply. “I not be a green boy.”
“Did not mean to insinuate you were,” Alexander said in apologetic tones. “Yet, Honfleur is wily enough to fool nearly all of Society. Like a fox in the hen house, he is both crafty and dangerous.”
“Not be the first time you and me outwitted a fox, whether it walks on four legs or two,” Lionel said with a smile of shared knowledge.
“If we mean to outwit this particular French fox, we should be about it,” Alexander said in caution. “Honfleur will likely remain at this evening’s entertainment for another hour or so.” He gestured to the door. “Lead on, my friend.”