Page 96 of The Unfortunate Debutante
“Are you sure you want to go through with this?” Benedict asked, walking next to him.
“I most assuredly do.”
Adrien sighed. “Threatening the Home Secretary at his own home is a terrible plan.”
Simeon grinned as he stepped onto the paved walkway. “It appears that you agents are rubbing off on me.”
With a chuckle, Benedict remarked, “Perhaps you’ll become an agent one of these days.”
“No, thank you,” he said with a smile. “Frankly, my days as a Bow Street Runner are limited. It’s time that I run my company and return home to my family.”
“Does Emma know you own Martin Trading Company?”
He shook his head. “Not specifically, but I have mentioned I own a merchant company.”
Adrien chuckled. “A merchant company?” he repeated slowly. “Your company rivals The East India Company.”
“That may be true, but I didn’t want to inform Emma of my wealth.”
“May I ask why?” Benedict questioned.
With a slight shrug, Simeon replied, “I suppose I wanted to see if she would accept me for who I was, not for my title, or for my money.”
“And now?” Benedict asked.
A smile came to his face. “She was far more impressed that I was a Bow Street Runner than a viscount.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. Titles and wealth seem to mean nothing to our dear Emma,” Adrien commented.
“I agree.”
Walking up to the black, main entry door, Simeon pounded it with his fist, then stepped back.
The door opened, revealing a lean butler with a thin mustache. “May I help you?” he asked politely.
Extending his calling card, Simeon said, “Please inform Lord Revett that Lord Wentworth would like a moment of his time.”
Benedict retrieved his own card and handed it to the butler. “As does the Marquess of Lansdowne.”
The butler looked expectantly at Adrien, who reluctantly removed a card from a pocket of his waistcoat. “And the Earl of Camden.”
“Yes, my lords,” the butler said as he invited them into the entry foyer. “I will inform Lord Revett of your arrival.”
Simeon’s eyes admired the woodwork dominating the square entry hall, along with light-colored, papered walls.
The clicking of the butler’s shoes informed them of his pending arrival. “Lord Revett will see you now,” he informed them.
Following the butler towards the rear of the townhouse, Benedict stepped up to walk next to Simeon, muttering, “I sure hope you know what you’re doing, Wentworth.”
The butler stopped next to an open door and gestured towards the room, indicating they should enter.
As they entered, Lord Revett was sitting behind a large desk with stacks of papers next to him. His head was down, but he managed to say, “Please, have a seat. I’ll be with you shortly.”
Rather than sit, Simeon leaned against the wall near the fireplace and watched Lord Revett work. His thinning black hair was longer than what was fashionable. He had a thin mustache, and his ears were pointed. On the rare occasion he attended Parliament, he saw Lord Revett sitting in the front row, his arms folded, looking solemn. He did not appear to be a man to trifle with, but then again, neither was he.
“My apologies,” Lord Revett said with a brief smile, looking up from the papers on his desk. “There isn’t enough time in the day to complete all that’s required of me as the Home Secretary, especially since Parliament is in session tonight.” He rose from his chair and walked over to the drink cart. “How may I help you gentlemen this evening?” His tone was cheery.
“I’ve come to discuss the Anti-Corn Law rebels,” Simeon stated.
