Sebastian said, “I take it Jane didn’t share her husband’s attitude toward her brother?”
“Jane was no radical herself, if that’s what you’re asking—far from it, in fact. But she wasn’t ashamed of us. Ambrose was always trying to get her to stay away from everyone in her family, but she wouldn’t do it. When Ambrose gave her that black eye, it was over Christian.”
“Where does he live now?”
“Christian? In Paternoster Row, over his bookstore and printing shop. These days he publishes mainly travel guides and romances, along with the usual odd printing jobs.”
“So you’re no longer in the newspaper business?”
“I am. But not Christian. A spell in Newgate definitely has a way of dampening some men’s passion for espousing reform.”
“Not yours?”
“Some of us are wiser than others.” Maxwell gave a sad smile that had the effect of making him look both younger and considerably more relaxed. “Jane always did say I’m more pigheaded than most.”
“Were brother and sister close?”
“Always.” He turned his hat in his hands. “If there is anything—anything at all I can do to help—you will let me know?”
Sebastian studied the younger man’s dark, haunted eyes. “I will, yes.”
After Liam Maxwell had gone, Hero came from the shadows of the morning room to stand beside Sebastian at the top of the stairs.
“How much of that did you hear?” he asked as the front door closed behind their interesting visitor.
“I missed the first part. So, were he and Jane lovers?”
“He says they were not.”
“Do you believe him?”
“When it comes to murder, I have a tendency to believe very little of what anyone tells me.” He went to stand for a moment beside the front window and watched as their visitor walked away, head down, through the driving snow. “So exactly how radical are Christian Somerset and his friend Mr. Maxwell?”
“Not as radical as some. Their newspaper advocated for reform rather than revolution.”
“For which they spent two years in prison,” said Sebastian as Liam Maxwell turned the corner and disappeared into the cold night.
“They did. I understand Christian Somerset has moderated his verbiage considerably since his release.”
“And Liam Maxwell?”
Her eyes narrowed with a faint smile. “Not so much.”
Sebastian kept his gaze on the now empty, snow-blown street below. “Given her brother’s politics, I’m surprised the Regent allowed Jane Ambrose anywhere near the Princess.”
“I believe Jane was Charlotte’s teacher even before Christian Somerset’s arrest. And at one time Prinny was pretending to be a Whig, remember?”
Sebastian turned to retrieve his brandy and take a deep swallow. “That he was.” Because the Prince’s father, King George III, was a Tory, the Prince of Wales had once publicly associated with the Whigs. But as soon as he became Regent, he repudiated his old friends and allied the monarchy closer than ever with the most conservative and reactionary of the Tories—a cynical move that embittered the Whigs even more.
Hero said, “You think her brother’s politics could have played a part in what happened to Jane?”
“It doesn’t sound like it. But her brother’s old friend Mr. Maxwell? Perhaps.”
“He didn’t need to come here tonight and draw attention to himself.”
“No. But I would have become aware of his existence soon enough. He might have thought it wise for him to make the first move.” Sebastian came to stand beside her at the fire. “How much do you know about him?”
“Maxwell?” She shook her head. “Only what was in the papers at the time of the trial, and I suspect that was biased against him. Most journalists at the time were anxious to be seen as currying favor with the Prince.”
He slipped an arm around her waist to draw her closer. “Fess up now: Did you know Princess Charlotte was already betrothed to Orange?”
“I did not. Although it certainly helps explain why Peter van der Pals was so anxious to get Jane to spy on the Princess—particularly if Charlotte is now regretting having given her consent to the match.” She shifted to loop her arms around his neck. “Speaking of which, you never did tell me precisely what it was about Orange and van der Pals you didn’t find it proper to discuss in the middle of Bond Street.”
“Let’s just say that if there were no need for Orange to beget an heir, I seriously doubt he would ever marry.”
Her eyes widened. “You’re certain?”
“Yes.”
“Do you think the Regent knows?”
“Oh, he knows, all right. Orange has always surrounded himself with attractive, ambitious men like van der Pals. I suspect the real question is, does Charlotte know? And if she doesn’t, how would she react if she found out?”
Hero’s gaze met his. “Not well, I suspect. That poor girl.”
Sebastian nodded. “I can see someone killing Jane Ambrose if they thought she’d learned the truth about Orange and was planning to tell the Princess.” He didn’t add that the person most likely to order such a killing was Hero’s own father.
But then he saw the stricken look in her eyes and knew that she had guessed it anyway.
Chapter 14
Saturday, 29 January
Sebastian began the next morning with an unfashionably early call on Phineas Wallace, second Baron Wallace, the notorious Whig politician mentioned by Liam Maxwell as someone Jane had recently visited.
Wallace had first entered the House of Commons as a young man of only twenty-two, freshly down from Cambridge. Brilliant, opinionated, and self-confident to the point of abrasive arrogance, he was the fourth son of a famous general known for his ruthless prosecution of war against everyone from Jacobites and American rebels to the French. As a younger son, Wallace never expected to inherit his family’s modest holdings in Northumbria. And so he had poured his energies and considerable talents into Whig politics, championing everything from the abolition of slavery and Catholic emancipation to public education and electoral reform.
Wallace’s elevation to his father’s newly created peerage had come about unexpectedly when his three elder brothers died childless. In contrast to his brothers, the second Baron was the father of a prodigious number of offspring: eight
