“I’ve learned a wee bit more about your Mr. O’Brian,” said Calhoun, putting away Sebastian’s razor.
Sebastian finished buttoning his shirt and glanced around. “Oh?”
“Not only is he held in the utmost esteem by the city’s tradesmen, but he’s trusted implicitly by his clients,” said the valet, holding out a crisply laundered cravat. “His commissions are reasonable, he never demands compensation from merchants, and he’s a regular contributor to the Orphans’ Fund.”
Sebastian carefully wound the cravat’s folds around his neck. “So how does he afford all the expensive pleasures of life?”
“It’s quite simple, actually. He’s one of the biggest thieves working the Thames.”
Sebastian looked around. “Now that is interesting.”
“It’s a very clever arrangement, when you think about it,” said the valet. “His activities as a procurement agent mean he’s constantly down on the docks dealing with shipments and going in and out of warehouses. From what I understand, the man’s meticulous—plans his operations to the most exacting detail, then executes them flawlessly. He’s really quite brilliant. They say he’s been behind every big job on the river in the past five years. His last enterprise cleaned out an entire warehouse full of Russian sables from just off the Ratcliff highway.”
Sebastian shrugged into his coat. “Russian sables? Sir William mentioned something about Russian sables. When was this?”
“Monday night,” said Calhoun, holding out Sebastian’s hat. “Just hours after the attack on the Magdalene House.”
Chapter 28
Luke O’Brian kept rooms in a well-tended stone house not far from the ancient pitched slate roofs and towering chimneys of St. Katherine’s Hospital below the Tower.
A few simple inquiries in the area brought Sebastian to a small eating house squeezed in between a ship’s chandler and a biscuit baker, for this was a part of the city that made its living from the docks and the river that linked London with the sea and the world beyond. The eating house was simple but wholesome, the air filled with the smell of sizzling bacon and fresh bread and boisterous conversations rising up from tables filled with ships’ officers, customs men, and clerks. Luke O’Brian sat by himself at a small table near the front window. Sebastian nodded to a middle-aged woman with rosy cheeks and an apron tied over her expansive middle, and went to slide into the seat opposite the agent.
“I understand congratulations are in order,” said Sebastian, keeping his voice low. “That was quite a successful enterprise you managed to pull off.”
O’Brian glanced up from his plate and frowned. “Do I know you?”
“We’ve met.”
O’Brian gave Sebastian a hard look, then grunted. “So we have. You’ve lost twenty years and a good two stone in twenty-four hours. Quite a feat.”
Sebastian smiled. “It turns out that neither one of us is exactly what we first portrayed ourselves to be. You, for instance, are not just a purchasing agent.”
O’Brian carefully cut a piece of bacon. “And I take it you’re not really a Bow Street Runner.”
“No.” Sebastian paused while the apple-cheeked woman bustled up to take his order. “Just tea, please,” he told her with a smile. After she’d gone, he brought his gaze back to the agent and said quietly, “Nor am I interested in what happened to a certain warehouse full of Russian sables.”
O’Brian chewed slowly, and swallowed. “So what are you interested in?”
“The death of a young woman.”
“We went over all that.”
“Did we? I’ve learned a few things since then. For instance, did you know Rose was really Rachel Fairchild, daughter of Basil, Lord Fairchild?”
The man’s face gave nothing away. “Who told you that?”
“This,” said Sebastian, laying the silver bracelet on the table. “Have you ever seen it?”
O’Brian’s fork clattered against the side of his plate. He stared at the bracelet a moment, then lifted his gaze to Sebastian’s. “You obviously know it’s hers. Where did you get it?”
“From one of the whores at the Academy. It used to belong to Rose?”
“Yes.” Picking up the bracelet, O’Brian studied the medallion with its crested helm and three eagle heads. “You say she was a Fairchild?”
“You didn’t know?”
“No.”
If the man was lying, he was bloody good at it. But then, of course, he
O’Brian gave a slow smile. “So they say.”
“A man with that much to lose could be dangerous,” said Sebastian, “if someone found out about his plans.” He paused while the plump-faced woman put his tea on the table before him. O’Brian said nothing.
“If he realized a woman knew what he did for a living, such a man might well intimidate her—bully her—just to keep her quiet. Except, I can see a woman like Rachel—or Rose—getting scared. So scared she ran away. In which case then, she’d really be a threat. A threat that needed to be tracked down and silenced before she ruined
