Page 39 of The Moonstone Pirate
“Then you’ll be joining us tonight?”
“Yes, that is my plan for now.”
She placed a hand lightly on his forearm. “Draco, please be careful.”
“I will. I promise.” Truly, she was a sweet butterfly.Hisbutterfly. And he was going to do something about it as soon the Irishman and the English rebels were hauled off to prison. Well, he wasn’t certain what he was going to do with the Irishman yet. Yes, he was a rogue and a scoundrel, but there was also a grudging morality about McTavish. Draco respected him, and indeed felt they were quite similar in this regard.
However, that respect would be lost if McTavish was directly involved in the plot against the Crown.
“Imogen, will you also promise me to be careful?”
Her lips pinched together in a tight, thin line.
Bloody blazes.
Was she not going to give him that promise?
Chapter Seven
Draco decided toride back to Woodley Lodge after all, since getting a letter off to the Duke of Wooton at the Home Office was of the utmost importance. “My lord, you are back,” his butler remarked, hastily opening the door for him.
“Yes, Wescott. But only for a few moments. Send Rodgers to me at once. I’ll be in my study.”
He had just taken out his writing paper and sealing wax when Rodgers, the footman who had been handed the note to be delivered to Driscoll at the party, hurried in. “My lord,” he said, awaiting Draco’s instructions.
Draco withdrew the wizard drawings Imogen had made. “Take a look at these and tell me if any of them resemble the man who handed you the note.”
Rodgers studied each of them and then pointed to the wizard with the distinctive ring. “That’s him, m’lord. He’s definitely the one. These are remarkable, even the detail on his ring. How did you know? It is even more accurate than my description.” He scratched his head. “Did I even describe this ring to you?”
“Well, glad I recalled it right. Thank you, Rodgers. You’ve been immensely helpful.” Draco dared not reveal Imogen was the one deserving of the credit. Even though it was common knowledge she was an artist and had drawn the sketches, the fewer people who knew of her actual involvement in identifying the wizard, the better.
What mattered was that Healey had now been identified.
That confirmation was all Draco needed to send off a preliminary report to the Home Office. The Duke of Wooton ran all Crown operations and would now be alerted to Healey’s possible connection with the rebel cause.
Draco also wrote an engagement letter to Homer Barrow, noted Bow Street runner. He would follow up these letters with updates as needed, but getting the Home Office agents on the scent of Healey and his accomplice, Burke, was urgent. Nor did he overlook Driscoll’s toady friends, who also got a mention in those reports. Lord and Lady Trewick were included as well, but only for the purpose of being thorough. Constable Angel would also be sending inquiries to the London magistrate about those two and their whereabouts.
Draco’s first stop upon reaching Moonstone Landing was to drop his letters off at the Kestrel Inn with instructions for the innkeeper to make certain they made it onto the next mail coach. He watched Thaddius put them into the pouch. “Lock that pouch away and only hand it over to the coachman. Tell no one about these letters.”
“Aye, m’lord,” Thaddius said in a conspiratorial whisper.
Draco shook his head. Could he trust the innkeeper to keep his mouth shut?
He bade Thaddius a good afternoon and strolled down Moonstone Landing’s high street, now feeling as though a weight had been taken off his shoulders. Not that he was a man of leisure. Quite the opposite, there was an added complication and level of danger to Driscoll’s murder. Still, he was now able to provide the Home Office with important names, and they could carry out raids at the London end.
Perhaps this rebel plot could fall apart within a matter of weeks.
He passed the land agent on the street, pausing a moment to greet Mr. Priam, who had yet to stop beaming after selling Draco the ruin that had once been known as Peacock Hall. Perhaps he ought to have kept the name, for Woodley Lodge sounded quite dull in comparison.
He stopped in at the bank to chat with the manager and took a surreptitious glance at the ledgers on his desk to see if McTavish or Lord Healey had accounts here. He found a ledger with Healey’s name listed on it, noting a large deposit on the morning of the party. But there was no indication from whose account the payment had been made. He heard the manager’s footsteps and quickly tucked the ledger back in the top drawer of his desk.
Being an earl had its advantages, Draco supposed.
Not only had he been admitted immediately into the manager’s office, but no care had been taken to be discreet about the accounts of others. Not that the information lay open right in front of him, but it had not been locked away. It had taken Draco only moments to dig into the desk drawers and skim through private ledgers while the man was off fetching information Draco had requested for the sheer purpose of getting him out of there.
He could now confirm that Imogen’s wizard sporting a fancy ring had two accounts. Draco expected one was for his personal use and the other was for the smuggling operation. That second account had the large deposit. He would ask Burness to sequester these bank ledgers, but not before he had gathered more evidence and was ready to reveal details of his Crown assignment.
Having obtained the information he was after, Draco made up an excuse to hastily end the meeting. He hurried out of the bank and crossed the street to stop in at Mrs. Halsey’s tea shop to chat with the proprietor’s daughter, who was happy to gossipabout their customers. “We get plenty of Londoners,” she said, “and an occasional Scottish family. But we haven’t had any Irish here as yet this summer or last, as I recall.”
