Veiled in Moonlight (The Ministry of Curiosities Book 8) Page 18

  "That was Ballantine's plan, and still is, but the suitor in question has not secured the approval of his family yet."

  "The suitor is jealous," the duke declared. "He must be. That's why he killed the rival. Have you questioned this man?"

  "Leonora Ballantine won't tell us his name."

  "Apply more pressure." The duke cast a critical eye over Lincoln. "You look like a fellow who knows how to do that."

  "It's not quite as simple as that," I said. "Leonora has been sent away to the Isle of Wight. That's why we've come here. We recently learned that the queen is at Osborn House, hence our concern that Leonora has been sent there for a reason. Does your mother know the Ballantine family?"

  "The queen," the Prince of Wales said, "has numerous friends. I don't think Lady Ballantine numbers among them, but I may be mistaken. I doubt Her Majesty invited anyone to Osborn House, however. She rarely has visitors for extended stays nowadays. They irk her."

  "Everyone irks her," the duke muttered into his glass.

  The prince rose from his chair and pressed his knuckles on the desk. "Do you think the queen is in danger? Is that what you're implying?"

  "We don't know," Lincoln said. "But it's—"

  "My god, we have to warn her!" The prince pulled a piece of paper with royal letterhead off a stack and reached for the silver inkstand.

  "While he writes," the duke said, "I might as well tell you what Her Majesty said in her letter. Apparently the fellow named King did speak to her about shifters such as himself. He claimed they are harmless."

  "What did she think of that?" Lincoln asked.

  "She did not say."

  "Did they discuss anything else?"

  "Nothing in particular." His gaze connected with his brother's as the prince paused in his writing.

  "Tell him," the Prince of Wales said. "I trust the information will not leave this room."

  "You have my word," Lincoln said.

  "King spoke to her about my nephew, Bertie's eldest." He nodded at his brother, now blotting the ink.

  "What did they discuss?"

  "A recent scandal that his name was linked to."

  "The Cleveland Street affair," Lincoln said, nodding. "Go on."

  The duke glanced at me and his cheeks pinked.

  "I am aware of the scandal too," I told him. "I know what went on at the Cleveland Street house." At least, I knew what the newspapers implied—that gentlemen went there to have secret liaisons with boys and men.

  "While he wasn't mentioned in the papers, my nephew's name was bandied about," the duke went on. "The queen got wind of it. She was furious, of course, and believed every word. In the guise of our late father, King apparently assured Her Majesty that my nephew was not involved, and that he is very much interested in women."

  King had done the family a service. How intriguing—and somewhat unexpected. "Why would he do that?" I asked, more to Lincoln than the two princes. "What could have been his purpose?"

  "That's a good question," the Prince of Wales said, setting his letter aside. "If King had suggested the opposite, and claimed the reports were true, then I would believe he was implying that my son was not fit to rule after me."

  I agreed. "He could have been attempting to influence the succession in some way."

  "To what aim?" the duke asked.

  "It's irrelevant," Lincoln said. "King told her the reports cannot be believed, so he hasn't influenced the succession at all."

  The prince got up and tugged the bell pull. "King is dead so we can't ask him what his intentions were."

  "Thank you, I am well aware of that." The duke rolled his eyes. "Perhaps now that he is dead, the queen will stop believing everything he told her."

  The prince stopped and frowned at his brother. "What are you implying? That Eddy was involved in the Cleveland Street business? Affie! How could you?"

  "Eddy?" both Lincoln and I said together. I stared at him. He stared back.

  We'd found our elusive second suitor—and he was a prince.

  Chapter 12

  The Prince of Wales instructed a footman to send the letter to Osborn House immediately. I watched him leave the office, my mind awhirl. Leonora's second suitor was a prince.

  "Eddy is your son?" Lincoln asked the Prince of Wales after the footman bowed out.

  "My eldest," the prince said.

  "Eldest legitimate son," the duke added with a smug smile for his brother.

  "But he's Prince Albert Victor," Lincoln said. "Not Edward."

  "Everyone calls him Eddy. Far too many Alberts in this family. If we didn't use monikers we'd all get confused." The duke chuckled.

  "The name Eddy means something to you?" the prince asked.

  "Is he visiting the queen at Osborn House?" Lincoln pressed.

  "The Prince of Wales asked you a question, sir," the duke bit off. "Kindly answer it."

  "Eddy's there for another week or so," the prince said, ignoring his brother. "Why? What has he got to do with any of this?"

  "He's Leonora Ballantine's secret suitor." Lincoln's words dropped like stones into the room.

  The prince slumped back in his chair with an audible expulsion of breath.

  The duke barked a laugh. "You jest."

  "I don't make jokes."

  I could have told him, and them, that it wasn't true, but I didn't think it was the right time. "We only know him as Eddy," I said. "But it does seem likely that it is one and the same person. We do know that Leonora's second suitor had a higher rank than Lord Ballantine. A prince would be a sought-after son-in-law."

  "But it's utterly ridiculous!" the duke declared. His brother merely sat in his chair and stared at the desk, as if he could not quite believe his son was tangled up in this. "Eddy will marry a foreign princess," the duke said. "Alix of Hesse and Margaret of Prussia are both candidates." He snorted. "Not Ballantine's daughter. He's just a baron, isn't he? Practically a nobody. The nerve of him, to think he could force a union behind your back, Bertie." Another snort. "The sheer stupidity that he thinks love matters when it comes to the marriage of the future king of England. Good grief. What's the world coming to? Bertie? Are you listening?"

  "I…I am somewhat overwhelmed by this news," the Prince of Wales said. "It's one thing for Ballantine to aspire to have my son as his son-in-law, but it's quite another for Eddy to encourage this girl. He knows how things are."

  "He has not mentioned being in love?" I asked gently. I felt a little sorry for the prince. He may be the future king, but he was also a father whose grown son didn't confide in him.

  "No. He did not. And now he has caused all manner of havoc. Why would he encourage her?"

  I did not mention love again. Neither the duke nor the prince seemed to think it a good reason to meet Leonora in secret.

  "One thing we know for certain," the duke said. "Eddy is not your murderer. He's not some shape shifting creature."

  That threw cold water on our theory that Ballantine wanted to keep the pack's blood pure.

  I looked to Lincoln. He lifted a finger in a small gesture, telling me to leave my questions for later. He stood and held his hand out to me. "Miss Holloway and I are going to the Isle of Wight at the earliest opportunity to keep an eye on Lady Ballantine and her daughter. I suggest you summon your son home, Your Highness. There is a small possibility that we're wrong and his life is in danger after all."

  The Prince of Wales nodded numbly. "Yes. Of course. I'll go in person. This is too important to be left to a letter."

  "It's possible Prince Eddy, or whatever his proper name is, is a shape changer," I said as we drove away from the palace.

  "It's not impossible," Lincoln agreed. "But I doubt he is. That doesn't mean he wasn't jealous of Protheroe. He could have had him killed by a shape changer. He could have enlisted one of Ballantine's pack; Ballantine wouldn't have refused him."

  "That theory would not go down very well with his father and uncle. We're fortunate we didn't mention it. I quite like you
r head attached to your shoulders."

  He tapped his finger against the window sill as he studied the park outside. We'd slowed down thanks to traffic ahead. "It's likely Ballantine orchestrated the killing simply so Leonora could marry the future king of England."

  "He's mad."

  "Ambitious."

  "They are often one and the same, in my experience."

  He nodded absently. "The thing is, he must know he'll have a difficult time convincing the royal family to go along with it. He might have had more luck with the younger brother, Prince George. Prince Albert Victor will be king, and his uncle the duke is correct—nothing less than a foreign princess will do."

  "Which perhaps explains why Eddy did not inform his family. He knows it's hopeless. Poor Leonora. He's simply toying with her, giving her false hope of a marriage."

  "Not Leonora," Lincoln said. "She's not in love with him. Ballantine is the one being led. He thinks his plan could work; there's historical precedent." At my raised brow he added, "Anne Boleyn was the daughter of a minor nobleman who married the king."

  "And didn't that end well. Poor Leonora. She's being used as a pawn, ordered to give the prince whatever favors he demands. What sort of father does that? He's despicable, and Prince Eddy is no better. He ought not take advantage of her if he sees no future for them."

  Lincoln finally looked away from the window. "We're being followed again."

  I touched the orb necklace nestled beneath my dress. It lay dormant, and I wondered if the imp inside was still alive. I hadn't felt its life force in some time. The notion that it might be dead saddened and worried me.

  Lincoln leaned forward and rested one elbow on his knee. His other hand took mine. "I don't think we're in any danger," he said. "Whoever is following is merely gathering information."

  "That doesn't worry you?"

  He considered this a moment. "A little." I was about to ask him to elaborate but he sat back again and said, "I have another theory about Protheroe's death."

  "You do?"

  "It's a matter of the succession."

  "Intriguing," I said. "Go on."

  "Do you recall the Duke of Edinburgh also mentioned his nephew, Eddy, that first time we met him at the palace?"

  "I do. He talked about the Cleveland Street scandal and Eddy's supposed involvement. The subject has been raised twice now."

  "Why would he do that in front of us? It made me think that Eddy was on his mind for a reason, and that the rumors of Eddy's connection to the brothel were begun by none other than the duke himself."

  "Good lord. You're serious!"

  He nodded. "Perhaps the duke is trying to manipulate the succession by attaching scandal to Eddy, the second in line to the throne. Perhaps he would prefer the younger brother, Prince George, for a reason we have not yet uncovered. Or perhaps he plans to remove Prince George too, in favor of himself."

  "Through a scandal? Surely Princes Eddy and George are above grubby gossip. The Cleveland Street event has all but blown over anyway."

  "Has it? If the public found out, they would demand Eddy not become king. That sort of scandal would ruin him. He is not infallible. None of them are."

  It was quite a thing to consider, and I wasn't entirely convinced he was right. Surely there were other ways to insure Eddy didn't become king.

  On the other hand, short of death, I could think of nothing better than a scandal on the scale of the Cleveland Street one. The public was not yet aware of Eddy's involvement—it was merely rumor among the upper class—but if he were linked to it in the newspapers, the people would be shocked. Perhaps even shocked enough that they would not want him as their king, forcing the queen to remove him from the line of succession.

  The question remained, why would Eddy make a terrible king in the Duke of Edinburgh's eyes? Or perhaps a better question—what could he gain?

  The coach picked up pace as we left the heart of the city behind, and I was rocked out of my thoughts. "What has the succession got to do with Protheroe or his death?" I asked.

  "Perhaps Protheroe overheard a discussion within the Ballantine household. The duke is a friend to Ballantine and Swinburn, so he may have confided his plan to them. Or perhaps the plan originated with Ballantine or Swinburn and they enlisted the help of the duke. Either way, it's likely Protheroe overheard something while he was secretly courting Leonora. Or Leonora herself knew about it and confided in Protheroe."

  "Then why did his ghost not mention it to me?"

  "Perhaps he wasn't aware of the importance of what he overheard. Or perhaps Ballantine only thinks Protheroe overheard something and decided to kill him just in case."

  "Just in case?" I echoed. "Good lord, Lincoln, your mind works in diabolical ways."

  "It helps me understand people like Ballantine and Swinburn."

  "And the Duke of Edinburgh," I added quietly. My stomach churned at the prospect. We were dealing with the royal family as suspects now. We had to tread very carefully.

  Doyle handed Lincoln a letter when we returned home. Lincoln opened it in the entrance hall and quickly read the contents before passing it to me.

  "It's from a lawyer I engaged to look through the financial records of both Ballantine and Swinburn," he said.

  The lawyer's first paragraph stated that he'd found no link between the two men specifically, although they occasionally invested in the same stock, but that was not unusual. However, the lawyer had learned that both men were from Bristol, where their families had lived for hundreds of years. Acting on a hunch, the lawyer looked for a link between the previous generations. He discovered that Swinburn's father had used a large amount of capital to start his shipping business when he was in his mid-twenties. It had been impossible to tell where the money came from, but again, acting on the theory that there was a link between the two families, the lawyer worked backwards into the records of companies in which Ballantine had stock and discovered that the previous Lord Ballantine had sold off his share in five different investments. The amount he earned from the sale equaled the amount Swinburn paid for his first steamship.

  "We have it," I said, hardly able to contain my excitement. "We have the link between the two men. Only a relative or very good friend would lend such an enormous amount to someone."

  Lincoln nodded. "Or a pack leader."

  It took some convincing for Lady Vickers to allow me to travel to the Isle of Wight without a chaperone, despite having traveled with Lincoln before without one. In the end, I told her it had been arranged. Lincoln avoided her entirely.

  He'd given instructions to Seth and Gus to continue following Lord Ballantine in our absence. So far, they'd reported that Ballantine met with Franklin, Miss Collingworth and Swinburn every day, along with another man and woman. They had not changed their form, however, so we couldn't be sure if they too were shape shifters.

  We had a compartment to ourselves for much of the railway leg of the journey, allowing us to discuss the murder before moving on to other topics. Topics like whether Lincoln wanted his family to attend our wedding.

  "I knew you would bring it up," he said.

  "Well?" I prompted. "Do you want Leisl there?"

  "If Leisl is invited then etiquette states Eva and David must be invited too. We haven't met him."

  "Meaning you don't want him to come?"

  "Meaning it would be awkward."

  "You're capable of feeling awkwardness?" I teased. "Lincoln, I learn something new about you every day."

  "I like to keep you on your toes."

  In all seriousness, I agreed with him. I didn't want someone I'd never met at our wedding. There was only one way to solve the issue. "I have already unofficially invited them to dine with us, but I think we ought to send proper invitations. That way we can meet him over dinner before the wedding."

  "And if we don't like him?"

  "We won't invite him to the wedding. But not everyone reveals their true nature on first acquaintance. David could be cool at first but
thoroughly nice underneath a frosty exterior."

  His gaze narrowed. "Was that a comment on how long it took you to get to know me?"

  "Not at all. I knew you were the strong silent type the moment we met, and I suspected you were kind because you kept trying to feed me."

  "Cook fed you."

  "At your insistence."

  "You were scrawny. If you didn't eat you were in danger of being blown away in a stiff breeze. I made you eat to keep you firmly on the ground. At Lichfield."

  "And now?" I asked in my best throaty voice.

  His eyes became smoky and his lips twitched at the corners. "And now you're…tempting."

  "I find you tempting too, Lincoln. I have from the moment I laid eyes on you in your room. Thank God you thought I was a boy or I would never have the memory of your bare chest to keep me warm at night. You're far too proper to undress in front of a woman."

  "You're forgetting that night in Paris."

  "Oh, I remember that night very well." Indeed I did. It had been quite an education seeing him in all his naked glory. "But I walked in on you. You didn't undress in front of me."

  His gaze slid to the door. "That's enough of that talk before we're married."

  I swapped seats to sit beside him. I took his hand in mine and held it in my lap. "Perhaps we can pretend to be newlyweds and share a room at the hotel."

  "No!" He untangled our fingers and swapped seats so that we were once again facing each other.

  "You're such a prude," I said.

  "Me?"

  "Yes, you. Even your cheeks have gone pink."

  "I do not blush."

  I smirked. "We will be married in a few weeks’ time, and I will get to see all of you then, and you me. So why wait?"

  "It's not the proper way, Charlie, and I am only doing things the proper way where you are concerned. From now on," he added, as if he knew I would bring up our pasts again. "This matter is closed. Gentlemen do not discuss such things with their fiancées."

  I rolled my eyes.

  "Rolling your eyes at me will not change my mind."

  I stood and planted both hands against the wall behind his head. He blinked up at me with an innocence in contradiction to his defiant brows. I kissed him thoroughly on the lips, a more brazen move than I intended in a railway compartment. But he'd driven me to it. Indeed, the man drove me to madness sometimes, and I couldn't not kiss him. He'd foiled my plan of spending the night with him. I'd been looking forward to it ever since he'd announced we were both going to the Isle of Wight and the idea had taken root.