Page 37 of The Detective and the Baroness

Thomason immediately opened the door and entered the room. He stared at the shards and then looked at Corrine, a questioning look on his pinched face.

“An accident. Clear it away later. Leave me alone.” To the devil with niceties. These servants were loyal to the barony, not to her. She would do well to remember it. Once the butler quit the room, she plopped onto the sofa and exhaled. What to do? If she returned what was left of the settlement, and set the divorce in motion, her family would be right back where they started before she accepted the marriage proposal. How could they ever repay it? Jeffery’s salary would not be near enough to cover the payments. It may take months to find another satisfactory and well-paying nursing position. How would they live in the interim?

And Mitchell? Even if their relationship led to marriage, she would never saddle him with her family’s debts. That tiny flicker of hope dissipated like a light breeze snuffing out a lit candle. She could send word to Mitchell to close the case, send the bill, and never see or speak to him again. But that was the coward’s way out.

Jumping to her feet, Corrine rushed toward the desk, sat before it, and retrieved pen, ink, and stationery. Then she scribbled out a note.

Mitchell,

Starting tomorrow, continue with the surveillance on Travis. Please come here in four days, at two in the afternoon. There is much to discuss.

Corrine

She would need those four days to craft what she would say. It would be folly and unfair to drag Mitchell into this…mess. And it was a mess of her own making. But she would also be honest with Mitchell and tell him everything about her conversation with Travis. No matter what she yearned for, she could not place her family in financial peril again. But Corrine also had to think of herself. To be in a precarious pecuniary situation again would shatter her to bits.

A lone tear escaped the corner of her eye and trailed down her cheek.

It appeared she was destined to live out her life in a loveless, arranged marriage like her friends, and that bleak prospect broke her heart.

Chapter Fourteen

Later that night…

Jedi Danaher stood in the parlor of the Earl of Darrington’s garish flat. “I’m here as arranged. What have you got for me?”

“Right to the point,” Darrington chuckled. “Sit, man. I will not bandy words standing in the parlor like gossiping ladies at a tea party.”

Jedi looked about and plopped into the nearby wing chair. Darrington sat across from him, groaning as he took his seat.

“It took some doing, but I found some interesting information regarding the Addington barony. I had to contact—”

Jedi held up his gloved hand. “I don’t give a flying shite how you gathered the facts. Just give me the pertinent points.”

“You are an ill-mannered Irishman, I must say,” Darrington sniffed. “But you always were.”

“In the business we’re in, politeness is not needed. Stuff your parlor manners.”

“All right, then. I was shocked to hear just how robust the Addington fortune is. You would never know it from that shabby residence the old baron shut himself away in. Barely a step above middle-class. But the estate’s worth? We are talking a few hundred thousand pounds. Can you believe it? I was told ‘the low six figures, nearing the middle six figures.’ It could be anywhere from two and a half to four hundred thousand pounds. I am all astonishment.”

Jedi was also stunned. That greedy old muckshite of a father had given him only a couple of hundred pounds when, in actuality, he was swimming in obscene wealth. All those years ago, Gilbert Addington could have offered Jedi a proper upper-crust education and the upbringing to match it. Yes, the old baron had given money to Jedi’s mother, but they’d lived on a precarious edge between the lower middle class and the upper end of the lower classes. His mother often took in sewing and the like for extra money. And that miserable git had money to burn? The shock turned to annoyance, bordering on rage. But he would not show Billy Buck what he was feeling.

“What else?” Jedi ground out.

“Travis Addington, the new baron, is staying at his previous address, at 7 Carol Street in Camden Town.”

A smile tugged at the corner of Jedi’s mouth. Now that he had the exact address, he could plan his next move. Jedi was owed part of the barony fortune. So, he would seek out the current baron. He didn’t care about the legal aspect; morally, he had the right to some of that money.

“The talk is,” Darrington continued, “he is there preparing the property to sell. I also heard about a temporary estrangement between him and his new baroness, but who knows if that is true? Besides buying a fancy carriage with two matched grays, he hasn’t spent much of his fortune except on a large marriage settlement. I could not discover the amount. He married Viscount Rothley’s daughter, Corrine. The viscount and his family have teetered on the edge of financial ruin for years. Rothley is a profligate wastrel, as he was when I knew him in his younger days. Always in debt.”

“So the younger baron bought himself a wife,” Jedi murmured.

“So it seems. Some years ago, I thought to join my family to Rothley’s in a match between my son, Troy, and Rothley’s daughter, but I’d be damned if I would take on his crippling debt.” Billy Buck groaned and rubbed his ample thigh. “This damnable weather makes my bones ache like the very devil. Are we square now? My son told me of the incident that led to your supposed death.” Darrington narrowed his eyes. “A good thing you released Troy when you did, or I would have got to you before the Wollstonecrafts.”

Jedi did not doubt it, which is why he’d let that sniveling pustule of a viscount go instead of holding him for ransom along with Viscount Tensbridge’s younger brother. What did it matter now? Jedi only cared about the present and ensuring he had a comfortable future. “Right, whatever you say. Anyway, we’re square. I’ll send word when I’m back in business.”

“Make it quick, mind. Or I will go to Lucian Sharpe.”

Jedi stood and quit the room. Once outside, he pulled the hood over his head. No use shillyshallying—he might as well visit the new baron now. Who cared if it was near ten o’clock at night? He waved at a hansom cab and climbed in when one pulled up beside him. “Seven Carol Street.”