Page 26 of For a Scot's Heart Only
“A man named Culpepper. He was sotted and, like me, unaware of the house rules regarding masked women.”
“Yet, you managed to get rid of him.”
“After two men intervened on my behalf.”
“Who were these men?” Cecelia asked.
Mary hesitated, a terrible mistake.
“Mr. Thomas West was one of them.”
Cecelia’s eyes narrowed. “The same gentleman who arrived in your shop today, requesting the key to Neville Warehouse.”
Mary averted her eyes. She couldn’t deny the unfolding events were peculiar.
“Mary,” Cecelia groaned. “You are intelligent enough to know this is an odd coincidence.”
“Possibly. But he did help us last August. As to needing the warehouse, Octoberisthe selling season for bones, baleen, and oil. Nothing coincidental about that.”
Cecelia shook her head, unconvinced. “And the other man?”
“A Lord Ranleigh, I believe.”
“Lord Julian Ranleigh?”
“He didn’t announce his Christian name.”
Cecelia stared at the wall as one does when cyphering a troubling equation. “As I recall, the Ranleighs are all the same. Black-haired, handsome devils, except Lord Julian’s missing part of a finger on his left hand.”
“I didn’t notice his hands, but the Lord Ranleigh who intervened was well dressed and handsome... if one finds arrogance appealing.”
Cecelia’s brow pinched. “We must be careful. The Countess of Denton shares a distant family connection with them.”
“Which is true of all England’s aristocracy,” Mary said dryly. “The lot of them are inbred.”
Cecelia looked at her with astick to the matter athandmessage.
“Did it appear to you that Mr. West and Lord Ranleigh knew each other?”
Mary rose from the bed, restless. “Well enough for Lord Ranleigh to comment on Mr. West’s taste in women.”
Cecelia sighed. “This is an interesting turn.”
“Why?”
“Because the ship which smuggled Charles Stuart into London three years ago was owned by the Countess of Denton, her brother, and the Duchess of Aldridge.”
Mary tensed. Cecelia had shared this information with her last month after Cecelia and Mr. Sloane hadbroken into the Countess of Denton’s warehouse off Arundel Stairs. They’d called it a hunt for the gold, but she suspected Cecelia and the clever barrister-cum-government man had hunted for proof of Lady Denton’s illegal activities.
“And this signifies because?”
“Because the Duchess of Aldridge is Lord Julian Ranleigh’s mother,” Cecelia said.
“Oh.” Mary nibbled her lower lip.
“Poor woman. Her sons are terrors and her husband was worse. Ranleigh’s a crafty one. Trouble always seems to find him. He was quietly removed from Eton years ago—a feat considering the family name. The dukedom goes all the way back to King Edward I.”
“Hammer of the Scots. Ironic, isn’t it? Ranleigh’s ancestors winning their title by pounding our ancestors into the ground?”
