He handed over the document they had discovered, and let the duke read it. They couldn’t tell when he got to his name; he was too good a politician to reveal himself that way.
Eventually, he lifted his head. “Yes,” he said, “I see why you visited me. My brother and I did agree to invest in Lord Uppingham’s scheme, but he misrepresented it to us, and we withdrew shortly after.”
“Would you mind telling me what he said?”
The duke nodded. “You know the old theater across the way?”
“Indeed.”
The old theater that used to stand on the edge of Lincoln’s Inn Fields was now a warehouse. The building remained, but nothing else.
“He claimed he wanted to revive the theatricals.” For the first time, a smile creased his thin lips. “However, the theatricals were not of the kind that would appeal to me, nor would my involvement enhance my name and reputation. When I withdrew, he threatened to expose me, to announce my involvement to the world.” Now his lip curled in a sneer. “I ensured the scheme died. Once I’d spoken to the other investors, they followed suit. He would not be doing anything with those premises.”
How foolish, to try to extort money on those grounds! For all Juliana knew, that might have been Godfrey’s sole plan, to extort money from men who might be embarrassed if the public discovered they were involved in such a disreputable scheme. The duke was a considerable landholder. He probably owned houses that were put to less than respectable occupations already.
Newcastle did not indicate that the affair had concerned him in the least. It probably hadn’t.
So Godfrey had moved on to other prey, notably the House of Correction.
He got to his feet, so naturally Ash did, too, and, considering the interview over, so did Juliana.
The duke waved them down. “No, please stay. I want this business cleaned up.” He went to a table by the window, his slow, measured steps muffled by the thick Aubusson carpet under his feet. He paused, picked something up, and returned.
He consulted the paper in his hand. “Ah yes, that was his name.” He glanced up at Juliana, shrewd blue-gray eyes taking her in. Newcastle had the reputation of a pompous bungler, but nobody stayed in office as long as he had without a modicum of intelligence. His brother Henry was counted the clever one, but Juliana wasn’t so sure the duke was as foolish as people thought him.
“Your late husband introduced me to someone he said was called Sir James Corvid.”
Juliana froze. Corvid, the Latin name for a crow. Was she imagining things? No, surely not.
By her side, Ash’s hand curled over the armrest. He had noticed, too. How could he not, when the name was so blatant?
She had no doubt the duke had noticed their reaction. He nodded. “The man seemed to me to be shifty. Yes, I think that’s the right word. Not quite right. You know.”
Juliana nodded. Indeed she did. When someone who did not fit appeared.
“The man claimed he was a country squire, but his opinions did not reflect that. Neither did his accent. It was decidedly urban, specifically, London.”
“Clever of you to notice, your grace,” she said. Flattery wouldn’t hurt.
He humphed. “Years of practice. Don’t try to snow me, woman.”
Despite her resolve to treat him with dignity and respect, she smiled. And Newcastle smiled back. “Unfortunately for Uppingham, Corvid wanted me to invest in his scheme instead of his sponsor’s. I have no time for double-dealing in my private life. I have enough of that in government. He presented his scheme more gracefully, but it amounted to the same thing. I own property near Covent Garden that he wanted to lease, assuring me the purpose was respectable. I refused him.”
“Perspicacious,” Ash murmured.
“So what of you, young lady?” The duke’s change of subject was abrupt, but definite. “Now you are all but absolved from the heinous crime of murder, what do you plan for your future?”
She swallowed. “I have some ideas, but I’ve made no definite plans.”
“Well if you don’t, your father will have you married off to some other ne’er do well before you can draw breath.”
Juliana shook her head, the very thought of another man like Godfrey turning her stomach into a butter churn. “I won’t do that. The marriage settlement gives me a widow’s portion. I’ll manage on that.”
“Hmm,” he said. “I can’t see the Urmstons agreeing to give it to you.”
Quietly, she outlined the threat she would brandish over their heads. She knew she might have a struggle on her hands, but she was prepared to fight. “Then I shall have to earn a living. I have some skills. I would make someone a good housekeeper. Or a governess.”
He humphed. “And you think your parents will allow that? To let anyone so closely related to them wait hand and foot on one of their peers? You have windmills in your head, girl.”
While she didn’t like being referred to as “girl,” she could do little about it. The last thing she wanted to do was to set the powerful Duke of Newcastle against her. “If I don’t get the pension, I’ll have to earn a living. I’ll leave the choice to them.”
After a slight pause, the duke gave way. He guffawed, throwing his head back and sending his laughter to the elaborately decorated plaster ceiling. “We’ll make a politician of you after all!”
He got to his feet, and this time, when Juliana and Ash followed suit, he didn’t wave at them to sit again.
He bowed to Juliana and shook hands with Ash. “I will see what I can do to aid you. Don’t expect the earth, but I’ll attempt to contact Corvid again, and see if he takes the bait. If he does, you may meet him in my stead. Will that do?”
“Admirably, sir,” Ash told him. “Come, my dear.”
Having been referred to as “woman,” “girl” and now “my dear,” Juliana should have been affronted. The
