The Taste of Innocence (27 page)

With that, he looked at Barnaby, who succinctly yet comprehensively explained the crux of his investigation.

Throughout, no one moved or even shifted. Charlie felt certain he would have heard a pin drop on the Aubusson rug. No one interrupted or even humphed.

Barnaby ended his exposition with, “While the pater and the other peers overseeing the force, as well as all the senior members of the force itself, want this game stopped, given that there are so many other peers, parliamentarians, wealthy individuals, and other gentlemen of influence involved in the various railway companies and therefore potentially implicated, any investigation has to be discreet.”

He fell silent. The others finally shifted, exchanging glances. As a group, they were powerful in many ways—wealthy, influential, titled, every one of them born to the elite.

Gabriel murmured, “Everyone here would have some dealings, some financial exposure, to the companies that have been targeted by this…let’s call him an extortioner. So we’re potentially all victims, albeit not in a way that will personally hurt us. But this sort of activity may well result in some of those companies going bankrupt, and a consequent loss of confidence in that whole area of endeavor, which will in the short term impinge on our investments.”

Devil shifted. He exchanged a glance with Chillingworth, then said, “There’s a wider issue here—one that reaches much further than any individual investments involved.” He glanced around. “All of us here appreciate how much the future of this country is going to depend on the successful introduction of the infrastructure of the future—specifically the railways. The introduction of the canals last century ushered in a minor boom, but the railways are vital to the next stage. If it becomes widely known that investing in a railway company carries a risk of the company being subject to such extortion, and consequently bankruptcy, the small investors essential to fund each project will take flight. They’re the ones with least stomach for danger.”

“And least ability to withstand it,” Lucifer put in.

Devil inclined his head. “Indeed. And yet further, if it becomes widely known that having land close to or beside the proposed route of a railway can result in becoming the target of such tactics as our extortioner has used on farmers and the like, then we can expect whole areas to rise up in arms and refuse to allow tracks to cross their counties.”

“The fact that it’s only specific parcels of land that are being targeted won’t make any difference,” Chillingworth said. “Panic pays precious little attention to logic.”

Barnaby’s gaze had grown distant; his face paled as he envisioned the scenario they were painting. “Great heavens.” His voice was weak. “I don’t think the pater and the others even thought of that.”

Devil grimaced. “They probably did—they just didn’t see any reason to spell it out. They know you’ll be discreet.”

Barnaby looked grim. “Indeed. But such prospects make it even more imperative that we identify and stop this extortioner.”

“Are you sure it’s all the same man, or group?” Martin asked.

Barnaby nodded. “I came to that conclusion after trying to trace the profit from some of the extortionate land sales, reasoning that the profit must eventually find its way back into the villain’s hand. What I discovered was that each property is initially bought by a unique land company, and sold by that company. But after the sale, that original company is dissolved and its profits, the money from the sale, transferred to two other land companies. In turn, those second-string companies each pay their profits to two or more other companies, and the further I tried to push, the web of companies just proliferated.

“And that was the situation in all instances where I tried to chase the money. Every initial land company leads into a web of other companies, and while all the companies are different, the strategy is exactly the same. It’s so complex yet effective I can’t imagine that two people Independently thought of it.”

Vane looked at Gabriel. “Is there any way we can find our way through the maze?”

“There should be,” Gabriel replied, “but if this extortioner has been clever enough to use a network of companies in this way, then we’re likely to find ourselves running in circles. Until the government legislates for companies and their owners to be registered, tracing the legal owners, and more importantly the beneficial owners of such a web of companies—especially when that web has been intentionally created to conceal the identity of the ultimate beneficial owner—will almost certainly be an exercise in futility.”

Gabriel glanced around the ring of faces. “My recommendation is that we reserve our efforts for some avenue more likely to succeed.”

There were grimaces all around. For a long moment, silence reigned.

“Very well.” Luc looked at Barnaby. “Our estates, collectively, are spread all over the country. We should at least keep our ears open for any hint of coercion going on in the areas we each know best.”

Barnaby nodded, rather glum. “You all know your own areas—think of where railways are likely to go through, about where they’ll need to climb or descend, and if you hear of people in those areas being approached to sell, let me know. I’ve spent the last few days looking over the land between Bristol and Taunton, and a little farther west. Given the topography, it seems likely our villains will make some attempt in this region, so we’ll keep a tight watch here.”

He sighed, then slumped back in his chair. “At present that seems to be all we can do.”

“Actually,” Charlie said, tapping one finger on his blotter, his gaze fixing on Gabriel, “I think there’s one other avenue we’ve overlooked—and it’s just possible that our villain may have overlooked it, too.”

Gabriel held his gaze for a moment, but then, with a ghost of a smile, shook his head. “If it’s finance, I can’t see it. What?”

“I’m not sure, but…” Charlie glanced around, then looked again at Gabriel. “Our villain has been terribly clever about concealing where the money goes. But has he been equally clever about concealing where the money came from?”

All the others became alert; the tension in the room abruptly heightened. Glances were exchanged as they all saw the point, then everyone again looked to Gabriel.

He nodded slowly, his gaze locked with Charlie’s. “Excellent point.” Gabriel’s drawl had taken on a predatory edge.

Charlie grinned, equally predatory. “Wherever the money came from, in the end, the profit must find its way back to the source—such is the nature of investing.”

“Oh, yes,” Gabriel averred. “And while he might have thrown up a web of companies to obscure the movements of the profits back, looking in the other direction, at where the money to buy the land came from in the first place, even if he’s using a web of companies again, it’s unlikely to be as complex, and at some point funds must have entered the web.”

“Funds from outside the web—from the source, our villain.” Devil arched a brow at Gabriel. “How hard will it be to trace the initial incoming capital for a land company?”

Gabriel didn’t immediately answer; eventually he said, “It won’t be straightforward”—everyone present knew that by “not straightforward” he meant it would involve employing questionable means—“but we should be able to do it.”

“We might find ourselves faced with a similar web,” Charlie said, “but if we concentrate on one land company, and look only for the original funding, even if he’s moved it through various companies, it’ll still be one lump we’re tracking. One identifiable sum. It’s unlikely he’ll have thought to pay the initial sum in smaller amounts.”

“Regardless, the initial capital will have come from him by whatever roundabout route.” Gabriel nodded. “That’s eminently worth pursuing.” He looked at Barnaby. “We’ll need all the details you have of the land company used to buy the most expensive parcel you know of. The larger the sum the better, the easier it will be to trace. With that”—Gabriel looked at Devil—“Montague will be able to focus on the land company, learn when it was set up, and then search for the source of the seed capital through the movement of that sum through the banks. With any luck at all, he should be able to follow the trail back, ultimately to our villain’s accounts.”

Devil nodded. “Will you instruct him?”

“I’d rather you did.” Gabriel looked at Barnaby, then Charlie. “I agree that this area, of all the regions in En gland, is the ripest at present for our villain. I think I’ll be more valuable here, helping to keep watch for him.”

Their meeting broke up. They drifted back into the ballroom in twos and threes, their reappearance sufficiently staggered to conceal the fact that any meeting had occurred. In that they seemed successful; none of their mothers, sisters, or wives appeared to have noticed their collective absence from the still-considerable crowd.

Relieved not to be called to account, each returned to his spouse or, in Simon’s case, to his perennial irritation with Portia Ashford. Charlie found Sarah chatting with that young lady about the orphanage. He nodded to Portia, took Sarah’s arm, and waited beside her.

On reentering the ballroom, he’d signaled to the musicians that the airs and sonatas he’d instructed them to play before he’d slipped away to the library were no longer required and could be replaced by the waltzes they’d been hired to provide.

Throughout the day he’d suppressed the inevitable effect of the previous night, tamped down his impatience to test his hypothesis and assure himself that his addiction to Sarah would inevitably wane once she was legally his. He’d performed as required of a nobleman of the ton on his wedding day, but he’d—they’d—now done all that was needed; his impatience, temporarily deflected by the meeting in the library, had returned in full force.

Two minutes later, the strains of a waltz filled the room. He whispered in Sarah’s ear, then glibly excused them both to a grinning Portia and led Sarah onto the floor.

“Where were you?” Sarah asked, once they were pleasantly revolving.

Charlie looked down at her, then looked over her head as he steered her on. “I was talking to a few of the others about some business dealings—we went out where it was quieter.”

“Oh.” She was a trifle surprised that his mind had strayed to business at such a time.

As if guessing her thoughts, he caught her eye and smiled—his private smile, lacking the gloss of his sophisticated charm, more honest and sincere. “It filled the time.”

Tilting her head, she studied his eyes, trying to see what he was telling her. “The time…?”

“Until…” He steered her through another turn, then drew her out of the throng of dancers; he halted by the side of the room where an ornately carved sideboard created a sheltered nook between its side and the room’s corner.

Taking her hand, he captured her gaze. “Until we can do this”—reaching out, he twisted a knob in the paneling and a concealed door popped open—“and quietly slip away.”

Her heart—along with every nerve she possessed—leapt, but she cast a swift glance at the guests swirling about the floor.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “The majority will be more surprised if we stay.” His arm circling her waist, he urged her to the doorway; with no real reluctance, she stepped through into a narrow ser vice corridor.

He followed, closing the door behind him. Retaking her hand, he drew it through his arm and led her on.

She glanced up at his face. “Why would they expect us to leave like this—slipping quietly away?”

“So that we avoid the awkward alternative, especially the ‘farewell’ Jeremy, Augusta, Clary, and Gloria have doubtless spent the last few days devising.” He raised a brow at her. “Do you really want to learn how inventive they’ve been?”

She laughed and shook her head. “I believe I’ll survive perfectly well without knowing.”

“Thank heavens—I know I will.”

She heard the note of real relief in his voice and inwardly grinned, but then she remembered where they were going. And why. A species of nervousness threaded through her. She looked around, trying to get her bearings, as he led her down an intersecting corridor, then up a narrow flight of stairs to a landing.

He opened a door; he glanced at her as he guided her through. “Have you been in this wing before?”

Stepping into a wide, richly decorated corridor, clearly one of the major corridors of the house, she looked around, then glanced out the window to orient herself. All sound from the ballroom had faded; all about them was quiet. “No. This is the west wing, isn’t it?”

Nodding, he retook her hand, engulfing it in his. “The earl’s apartments are in this wing. You reach it from the gallery off the main stairs.” He waved behind them as he led her on.

Her lungs started to tighten.

It was nonsense, she told herself, to feel like this, as if they’d never…but that had been in the summer house, in the silent depths of the night, not here, not…This was very different.

The corridor ended in a circular anteroom. A highly polished round table stood in its center, upon it a tall chinoiserie vase holding a massive arrangement of hot house blooms. They stepped into the room. Charlie let go of her hand and turned back. Looking up, Sarah blinked and went slowly forward, staring up at the huge circular skylight above the table.

Hearing a click behind her, she swung around and saw Charlie bolting a pair of huge doors, sealing the room from the corridor.