Page 89 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
“Right. The Arcendale estate trust runs several accounts,” Finch said. “One of them—a quiet little fund that usually gathers dust—was put in the name of a Mr. A. Drayton.” He tipped his head, eyes narrowing. “My source couldn’t find any link between Drayton and the Vale family. But the money? It’s been flowing through fast—coming in heavy, going out just as quick.”
I sat up straighter. “They’re passing tainted money through it until it comes out looking respectable.”
Finch’s mouth curved in a grim smile. “That’s my thinking as well.”
“Who is A. Drayton?” I asked.
“That, I’ll need to look into—if you want me to pursue it.”
“I do.”
“It won’t come cheap,” he warned. “I expect a few palms will need greasing if we want real answers.”
“It will be worth it.”
Before he could respond, a sharp knock rattled the door.
“Come.”
Milford entered, outwardly composed as always, but there was concern in his eyes as he extended a silver tray.
“A message from Rosehaven House, Your Grace. Marked urgent.” After handing it to me, he promptly withdrew.
I broke the seal and scanned the contents. One glance at the handwriting sent a jolt through me.
Steele,
I am dining with Nathaniel Vale and his aunt, Lady Harriet, this evening at his home on Park Crescent. Just me. Cosmos has other plans. I do not expect trouble. But I thought you ought to know.
Whatever action you wish to take, I will not condemn you for it. I fully expect you won’t be able to help yourself.
—R
“Bloody hell.” I shot to my feet, the chair scraping back hard across the floor.
“What is it?”
“She’s gone to Vale House. Alone.”
His expression shifted to alarm. “You’d best get her out. Quickly. Not knowing what Vale might do.”
“I intend to.”
Finch stood in a rush. “I’ll come with you.”
“No. That won’t work. You’re not dressed for it.”
“You can’t go charging in by yourself. If you overplay your hand, Lady Rosalynd might pay the price.”
“I’ll take a Rosehaven footman—say someone in the family’s fallen ill and she’s needed.”
Finch rubbed his jaw. “That might work. But do you trust one of them to manage that kind of deception?”
“They’ve several. One of them is bound to be sharp.”
Finch nodded grimly. “I’ll take my leave then. Godspeed.”
As he spoke, thunder cracked overhead, rain lashing in sheets against the windows while a gust rattled the panes.
