Page 76 of Honor Requires

Stone did not contradict him. “He hires ships to do his bidding. He exports iron—Derbyshire iron—and engages in various import ventures as well. Hargrave promises substantial returns to those who invest with him.”

Lucien gave a short, humorless laugh. “And no doubt delivers just enough to maintain confidence.”

“Just so, sir,” Stone said.

Darcy’s gaze was distant for a time, then returned, focused and sharp. “And Langford?”

Stone’s expression shifted. “Langford is…more discreet. He holds influence, though it is not always visible. It is believed he has assisted in certain legal matters for Mr. Hargrave.”

Darcy’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of matters?”

Stone held his gaze. “Documents, sir.”

Darcy did not move.

“Forged documents,” Stone expounded. “From my investigation, I have found that Langford uses his position as magistrate to forge documents to further his purposes. There is reason to believe he played a role in the creation of papers…used to condemn a certain individual as a spy.”

Lucien swore again, more forcefully this time.

Darcy’s voice, when he spoke, was very calm. “You will find those papers.” He wanted evidence. He needed the proof.

Stone inclined his head. “It will not be easy. By my reckoning, Langford and Hargrave are exceedingly expert at hiding their misdeeds.”

“I did not expect it to be. You are up for the challenge, I think.”

Stone hesitated. “There will be risk.”

Darcy’s gaze did not waver. “Your compensation reflects that.”

Stone gave the faintest of nods. “It does.”

Darcy stepped forward. “You will proceed with absolute discretion. No name is to be spoken. No connection drawn. If you are discovered, you do not know me.”

Stone met his gaze evenly. “Understood.”

“And your pay,” Darcy added, “depends upon your success—and your silence.”

Stone’s expression did not change. “You will continue to have both.”

A pause followed, not uncomfortable, but final.

Then Stone said, “There is one further matter.”

Darcy’s attention sharpened. “Speak.”

Stone folded his hands once more. “Your cousin, sir. Viscount Bramley.”

Darcy’s expression did not betray the shift within. “What of him?”

“He is married,” Stone said.

Lucien glanced toward Darcy, but Darcy did not react outwardly.

“Yes, I know that,” Darcy said impatiently. “He called upon this house and told me as much.”

Stone consulted his memory. “If you recall, sir, you wished to know the identity of his bride. She was a Miss Bennet, sir. From Hertfordshire.”

The room seemed to still.