Page 14 of The Boxing Baroness

Guy scowled with disgust. “What a vile, soulless bastard he is to set up a cottage industry ransoming his own people.”

“We don’t know for sure that Dominic was involved in those other cases,” Elliot pointed out. “None of the three men who’ve returned mentioned an Englishman being one of their captors.”

“Is there any evidence at all to indicate Dom was involved?” Guy asked.

“There are a number of similarities. The Earl of Wells paid ten thousand pounds to recover his son, the same amount Dominic is demanding from Staunton. The threat about government intervention was the same. In all three cases only one person was allowed to collect the captive and deliver the money. I can see Dom disappearing—and taking all information about Ben with him—if he feels threatened. From his point of view, getting captured means a trial for treason.”

Guy turned to Sin. “I know you’re worried about Dominic finding out, but if he has a whole network in place, we might find ourselves overwhelmed with just the three of us.” He shrugged. “A few soldiers might help even the odds a bit.”

It was Elliot who answered. “That is out of the question. Already, with only the three of us, we are courting trouble from our government.”

“Why would our plan cause trouble? How can our government not want to get their hands on a treasonous bastard responsible for the deaths of two of our soldiers, who might now be involved in ransoming at least one of them back? They should be paying us to bring him back.”

“They might want to go after him but matters on the Continent are tense. You know how volatile the negotiations in Vienna have been. The mood in France has changed dramatically since Napoleon’s abdication. As relieved as the French people were to escape more war—and him by extension—they’ve now had almost a year under Bourbon rule and Bonaparte’s popularity is once again soaring. It is tearing their nation apart. This peace is fragile, Guy. Britain cannot simply send soldiers into a foreign country whenever we choose. At least not without setting off a fresh round of hostilities.”

“I have no intention of jeopardizing my brother’s safety by bringing in the government,” Sin said, not wishing to pursue the subject. “Even if Dominic hadn’t forbidden it. The only people I trust with Ben’s rescue are the three of us.” He raised his eyebrows. “If either of you don’t agree, I will under—”

“I’m with you,” Elliot said, cutting him off.

“So am I,” Guy said.

Sin left it at that and opened the file Elliot had given him.

“Will you read it aloud, Staunton?” Elliot asked.

Sin nodded and began reading:

“Nothing is known about Marianne’s father other than his name, James Simpson.

“Marianne’s mother, Sandrine Dupuy, was born in Marseille, France.

“Prior to moving to Dover Sandrine worked for ten years as a lady’s maid to Désirée Clary.”

Sin looked up. “Désirée Clary? Why does that name sound familiar?”

“Because she was once engaged to Napoleon Bonaparte,” Elliot said.

Sin’s eyes widened. “Didn’t she later—”

“—marry Jean Bernadotte, one of Napoleon’s generals?” Elliot cocked an eyebrow. “Yes, she did. Several years after Napoleon—in a very ungentlemanly fashion—broke off their engagement to marry Joséphine de Beauharnais.”

Guy sat up straighter. “Bernadotte? Wait, that’s—”

“Charles John, the Crown Prince of Sweden.”

Guy whistled softly. “Well, well, well. Marianne Simpson’s mother was the maid to a future queen. There’s an interesting little tidbit.”

“Indeed,” Sin murmured.

“Marianne’s mother died of an influenza when her daughter was eight. Barnabas Farnham arrived to collect Marianne, claiming to be Sandrine Simpson’s brother. That was the first recorded contact between Farnham and Marianne Simpson.

“At the time of Sandrine’s death, Barnabas was part of a financially unstable theatrical troupe called The Mayfair Players. After collecting his niece he went to London and—with the help of a lump sum of money that was anonymously deposited in a Barings bank account—purchased a rundown theater on Newcastle Street.

“Every year, continuing to the present, an anonymous donor has deposited fifteen hundred pounds in the same account on the fourteenth of July.”

Sin looked up. “If the first amount was deposited in 1804, in total that would be—”

“Almost fifteen thousand pounds,” Elliot said.