Page 26 of An Alleged Rogue

My contacts claim that the forgeries are of the uniquely high standard previously attributed to Mr. Payne.

A grocery shop assistant has shared a full description of the gentleman who passed him counterfeit notes. Along with general information regarding the perpetrator’s height and clothing was the note that his eyes were an unusual shade of gray.

Please be assured, the hunt to bring Freddie Payne to justice continues. Should I learn anything more substantive over the course of the next few weeks, I shall inform you directly.

Sincerely,

Hugh Toole

Adam sat back in his chair, his breath releasing in a whoosh. As little as two weeks ago, if he had received a letter such as this, he would have been on his way to London within the hour. Even now, despite the personal pledge he had made to actively pursue his nemesis no longer, an inner demon urged him on. To go now. Before Payne knew the authorities were on to him. And before the fiend could infiltrate and destroy any more lives.

He jumped to his feet and paced to the book-lined wall and back. No. He could not go. There was the imminent harvest to consider. The livelihood of his entire household was dependent upon it. And then there was Emily. She had taken her first step into Society. There was no retracting that now. He had set a new course; he must stick to it. Toole was a good man and an excellent runner. If anyone could catch Payne, it would be him. It was time to start trusting someone other than himself.

Dropping back into his seat, Adam pulled out a fresh piece of paper. He stared at it for a moment, then straightening his shoulders, he took up his quill and began to write.

Dunsbourne Manor

16 September 1788

Dear Mr. Toole,

I am most appreciative of your update on the whereabouts and recent activity of Freddie Payne. It comes as no surprise that the villain has resumed his nefarious work in London. We both knew it was simply a matter of time before he resurfaced.

As you may know, I made a trip to London at the first of the month to meet with Mr. Erasmus Dobbs, a hosier who was tricked by Payne whilst Payne was in his employ. The information Mr. Dobbs shared corroborated much of what we already knew about the man but, unfortunately, included nothing new.

Since returning to Dunsbourne Manor, it has been necessary to turn my attention to the affairs of my family and estate, which means that I am not in a position to venture to the city for the foreseeable future.

Should any of the gentlemen I have interviewed in the past contact me with regard to Payne, I shall inform you immediately. I would ask that you do me the same courtesy should there be any further developments that might lead to Payne’s capture.

Yours sincerely,

Dunsbourne

The moment the ink was dry, Adam folded the letter and sealed it. Taking it in his hand, he rose to his feet and crossed the room, then stood before the fireplace and looked up at the painting of his father hanging above the mantelpiece.

“Forgive me, Father.” His grip on the letter tightened as he spoke. “For Emily’s sake, I must stay at Dunsbourne Manor. But I swear to you, justice will be served. If Toole is unsuccessful in capturing Payne this time, I will resume the hunt myself.”

Chapter 9

It had been a week since Phoebe’s visit to Dunsbourne Manor. Seven days since she’d had cause to question everything she knew about Lord Dunsbourne. And seven days of wondering why she felt so driven to learn the truth. She had tried every distraction she could conceive of, but none had worked sufficiently well to bring her relief.

Lord Dunsbourne’s pleasant disposition the day she had met with Emily and Miss Selfridge had caught her completely off guard. It was almost impossible to reconcile the gentleman who had taken the time to show her a project so close to his heart with the one who had been so short with her the day before. Similarly, the stories Marianne and Georgiana had shared of a hardened gambler who had cruelly misused his father and sister did not fit with the brother Emily interacted with so cheerfully.

It was a torturous puzzle. Phoebe’s convictions had swung back and forth between the opposing realities so often as to make her head ache. But just when she had decided that she would rather stomp through the puddles in the rain outside than feign interest in her stitchery a minute longer, their butler, Gresham, entered the drawing room to announce that they had visitors.

“Mr. Derrick Webb and Miss Marianne Webb,” Gresham said, executing a small bow as Marianne swished into the drawing room in a swirl of purple skirts, her brother close behind.

Phoebe’s mother set aside the book she’d been reading and rose to her feet at the same time as Phoebe. “Good afternoon, Mr. Webb. Miss Webb.”

“And to you, Mrs. Hadford.” Mr. Webb inclined his head politely, and Marianne bobbed a brief curtsy.

Phoebe did little to hide her enthusiasm at the unexpected interruption. This was exactly what she needed. “How lovely to see you.”

Marianne beamed. “We are come to deliver an invitation.”

“Please, take a seat,” her mother said. “I shall ring for tea.” She pulled the bell and resumed her place beside the fire.

Mr. Webb took the chair across from her.