Free Amberley Chronicles Boxset I: The Impostor Debutante My Last Marchioness the Sister Quest (Amberley Chronicles Boxsets Book 1) by May Burnett Page B

either,” James agreed. “He must have another income from somewhere.”
    “Do you suppose the direction he gave is accurate?” Alphonse wondered.
    “Most likely. If he were going to lie, he could have found something more impressive than that.” James was already planning to stake out the house and conduct enquiries all over Bloomsbury, if necessary.
    “Are you really leaving town tomorrow afternoon?” he asked his friend. “You had not mentioned it beforehand.”
    “No, I think I’ll stay on a bit. I just wanted to increase the pressure on Conway, and see how he would react. I’m not sure it was a good idea for you to take over his debt – you should have remained in the background until it was time to pounce.”
    “I cannot wait very long. The man knows something dangerous that he must not be allowed to make public.”
    All three of his friends regarded James with mild surprise.
    “Oho! Are you being blackmailed?” Bob asked.
    “No, - at least not yet.” James regretted that he had said so much, and was determined to avoid any mention of Charlotte.
    “Maybe blackmail is Conway’s secret income source,” Alphonse said meditatively. “But knowing our James, how bad could it be? He’s not exactly a Bluebeard or Casanova.”
    “You must have hidden depths,” Alastair teased.
    James had to repress a scowl. It was too late at night to be so playful, he felt. Was he getting stodgy, at the ripe old age of twenty-four?
    After thanking his friends for their support and writing out a bank draft for Alphonse, he made his way home, while the other three went on to a discreet establishment catering to the tastes of rich young gentlemen. James felt little desire to join in. His desire for intimacies was entirely focused elsewhere these days.
    No doubt about it, his life was changing, and he could only hope that he would like the eventual destination.

Chapter 13
     
    His valet served James some welcome information together with the morning tea.
    “Mr Peter Conway is recently married, Sir, to a Miss Miranda Bessemer, the eldest daughter of a rich businessman in the city. He’s in tea and cotton. Her dowry is said to have been twenty thousand pounds. They have a house on Half Moon Street, but Mrs. Conway rarely goes out. He frequents ton events by himself, especially the very crowded ones.”
    “That is strange,” James commented. “I played with him last night and he gave me a direction in Bloomsbury, much less respectable than Half Moon Street.”
    “Maybe he does not want his wife and her family to know about his gambling, Sir?”
    “I suppose that could be the reason.”
    “Gentlemen have been known to have another, less public establishment in places like Bloomsbury, Sir, for their liaisons.”
    “A mistress, you mean? I should have doubted he could afford that. We need to find out more.”
    “Bloomsbury is a bit out of the way for you or me to make inquiries there ourselves, but I happen to know some boys lounging about the streets, who could find your long-lost grandmother for a shilling.”
    “Good idea,” James approved, “he is hardly going to suspect them.” He handed the valet a guinea and a piece of paper on which he had scrawled the address before going to bed last night. “Get them to find out all about the household, the man’s habits and any other people living there. I would be especially interested to learn from which part of the country this man Conway hails. With any luck, the people he grew up with may know something useful.”
    “I heard a suggestion last night that he might be from Kent, but it was only conjecture. All the staff at the Half Moon address are newly engaged and know very little about their master. I am trying to find any previous and possibly dismissed servants. Surely he must have had a valet during his courtship of Miss Bessemer. But if so, the man may have left London, or gone into some different occupation, or I would already have heard