“And the Home Office’s stance on this?” Hunt asked.
“Some are believers, some skeptics, claiming we are panicking for naught. However, the Crown is concerned and has asked me to delve into it further. That is why I need whatever paperwork Melrose might have. If we can get names, we have a good chance of quelling any revolution before it starts, and the resulting panic that would hit the general public.”
Hunt rose when DuBois-Gifford stood and offered his hand, his signal that the meeting was over. “I expect to hear from you as soon as you are able.”
“Yes, sir.” Hunt nodded and left the office. Deep in thought, he strode down the corridor and out the door. He waved his carriage forward and climbed in, grateful that the rain had temporarily subsided.
The ride home took longer than necessary because of traffic and wet streets. It gave Hunt time to consider the present state of his life. Betrothed to Diana. The annoyance that swelled up in him at DuBois-Gifford’s comments gave him pause.
Would he be defending Diana’s name for the rest of his life? Would he have to endure jokes and snide remarks in his clubs? What he really needed to examine was his easy acceptance of their forced betrothal and coming wedding.
He knew without a doubt that, at one time, he would have been horrified to find himself betrothed to Diana.
Although she had not yet agreed. But she was not a stupid woman and would come to realize if she wanted to maintain any standing in Society whatsoever, she must marry him.
Only months ago, he might have been tempted to challenge his honor and packed up and left the country rather than marry the woman,
but things had changed. Oh, the portrait and seeing her in all her glory—he still wondered if the artist got it right—had certainly began his shift from ‘annoying-always-in-trouble-friend’, to thinking of her as a desirable woman who was witty, strong, and had a mind of her own.
All the things that were not on his list of qualities for potential brides.
She was also compassionate and caring. As he’d stated to her, she would be a wonderful mother. He enjoyed her company and found himself searching for her at every event and looking forward to holding her in his arms while they waltzed.
Was that love? Hardly. But he thought there was a possibility that they could have a strong marriage.
The rain had started up again by the time the carriage arrived at his house. Rather than wait for the driver to climb down with an umbrella, Hunt hopped from the carriage and took the steps two at a time to the front door.
“Where is Marcus?” Hunt asked as he shrugged out of his wet coat and handed it off to the butler. “Tell him I need to see him in my bedchamber post haste.”
“Yes, my lord.”
Once he reached his room, he grabbed a piece of linen and dried his hair. He was already out of his wet clothes when the valet appeared. “My lord, how can I be of service?”
“I need some of your expertise.”
The man nodded. He’d done several things for Hunt in the past that didn’t fall into the realm of valet. Marcus had been raised on the streets and, after a near-death experience, managed to get a job at a tailor shop, taking out the trash and cleaning up. He watched and learned and accosted Hunt on the street after leaving the tailor shop one afternoon and asked for a job.
Impressed with the young man’s ambition and willingness to learn, he agreed to take him on as an assistant to Sergio, his former valet who was growing close to his pension. Two years later, Sergio retired and Marcus took over full duties.
“I need to examine some papers in Lord Melrose’s house.”
Marcus never batted an eye.
“I prefer not to crawl through the window like a burglar. I want you to find someone in Melrose’s household who will leave the back door open for a price.”
“Yes, my lord. That will not be a problem. I can think of a couple already.”
Another of Marcus’s talents was helping former street urchins gain respectable employment. He had several male and female friends in great houses all over London.
While these cohorts were, for the most part, honest, they were always up for a little extra coin.
“Excellent. Just let me know what night.”
Whistling now that the unpleasant part of the day was over, Hunt headed to his office where the safe holding the family jewels were kept.
He’d been barely out of university when his father had passed away, only months after his mother. He’d taken on the responsibility of his two brothers and was grateful when they came to him with the request to help finance The Rose Room.
The family jewels had been passed down for generations. Hunt had never examined them, since they were meant to go to his wife and, until now, she’d been an elusive, shadowy woman.