Mr. Hinckley waved him on. “Please do. There must be some way to resolve this to everyone’s satisfaction.”
Godfrey wasn’t so sure his suggestion would meet with Maggie’s or Harry’s enthusiastic approval, but as he laid out what he thought was the family’s best way forward, he saw consideration flare in Ellie’s siblings’ eyes.
When he reached the end of his dissertation, everyone remained silent, turning over the prospect in their minds, then Harry said, “My one question is why would he go along with that?”
“One facet of Masterton’s character that has struck me,” Godfrey said, “is that when faced with a reverse or a hurdle, he immediately makes new plans. He constantly shifts and adjusts, and the only thing one can be sure of is that he’s always focused on advancing some plan to lay his hands on money that isn’t his.”
Jeffers nodded. “I agree—that’s how I read his character, both from Cawley’s notes and my own observations.”
Mr. Hinckley slapped his hands on his knees. “Well, then, I can’t see any reason not to put Lord Godfrey’s suggestion to the test. Let’s have the blackguard in and put our proposal to him, shall we? Are we agreed?”
Ellie nodded, and rather more reluctantly, Harry and Maggie did as well.
“Allow me.” Jeffers rose and tugged the bellpull.
Kemp arrived and was dispatched to fetch Masterton.
Mr. Hinckley stroked his chin, then looked at Godfrey. “My lord, would you be willing to lay out our position? I fear that if any of us were to speak, our tempers might get the better of us.”
Godfrey felt Ellie’s fingers press his in supplication; he stroked her hand with his thumb and inclined his head to her father. “Given the circumstances, I would be honored to act as your mouthpiece, sir.”
Harry and Maggie busied themselves seeking out the hardest, most uncomfortable straight-backed chair they could find and set it with its back to the drawing room door, facing the hearth and the horseshoe formed by the chairs occupied by them and the others.
Masterton was duly escorted in, attended by Kemp and two footmen. A bruise was blooming on Masterton’s cheekbone, and his clothing was disheveled; clearly, the footmen who had brought him down from the attic had not been inclined to be gentle.
The instant Masterton set eyes on Matthew Hinckley, his face lit, and he hurried forward as fast as his hobbled ankles allowed. “Matthew! There’s been some terrible mistake—a misunderstanding—”
“Silence!”
Even Godfrey jumped. Glancing at Ellie’s, Harry’s, and Maggie’s wide eyes, he surmised that Matthew Hinckley rarely roared.
Masterton reacted as if he’d been struck. His face blanked and paled, and he halted.
Mr. Hinckley continued in a more restrained but equally awful tone, “To me, sir, you are lower than the low—less than nothing. You forfeited my regard—every last scrap—when you ordered Jeffers to shoot my daughter and Lord Godfrey. You will sit”—Mr. Hinckley jabbed a finger at the hard chair—“and hold your forked tongue and listen to what we have to say to you. You will not speak unless invited to. Is that clear?”
Masterton hesitated, then mutely nodded and, when Mr. Hinckley pointed again at the chair, moved to it and sat. Masterton’s wide-eyed gaze stated clearly that he’d never before encountered or even imagined this side of Mr. Hinckley.
Mr. Hinckley signaled to Kemp and the footmen to remain, and they took up positions near the door.
Satisfied, Mr. Hinckley glanced at Godfrey. “Lord Godfrey, if you would?”
Deeming his hopefully soon-to-be father-in-law’s tack an excellent one, Godfrey remained seated and turned fractionally, transparently remaining at his elegant ease as he caught Masterton’s eyes. “The Hinckleys have concluded that there is no place for you within their family or wider British society.” Godfrey glanced at Jeffers, then returned his gaze to Masterton. “You have burned every bridge you ever had. You owe substantial debts you are unable to pay to Jeffers and Thornton, and even more to the Hinckleys themselves. If the firm and the family wished, they could have you clapped in Newgate, quickly and without any fuss, and left there to rot, for as we all now know, you have no capacity whatever to pay the debts you have already incurred.”
Godfrey paused to let the threat of Newgate sink in, then went on, “You should be under no illusion that isn’t an option strongly favored, and it will be the family’s fallback should you fail to agree to their alternative proposal.”
Slowly, Masterton blinked, then his gaze focused more intently on Godfrey. “What proposal?”
And there it was; Masterton was already revising his plan.
“The alternative the family have agreed to offer you is banishment.”
Masterton blinked again. “But—”
“Under this proposal,” Godfrey continued, “you will be taken to Hull, provided with a ticket to Rotterdam, and seen onto the ferry. From Rotterdam, you may go wherever you please with the single proviso that you are never to set foot on British soil again. Should you attempt to do so, you will be taken up by the authorities and conveyed directly to Newgate.” He held Masterton’s gaze and smiled coldly. “My family are more than powerful enough to ensure that outcome, and once in Newgate, for you, there will be no escape.”
Masterton’s face was a study of a man thinking rapidly; calculation invested every line.
No one was surprised when he raised his head, looked at Mr. Hinckley, then transferred his gaze to Godfrey and said, “You’ll need to provide me with some funds. You can’t just”—he gestured with his hands, still bound by the cloth—“toss me penniless onto the Rotterdam docks.”
Godfrey smiled even more chillingly. “I assure you we can. There will be no funds, not from the Hinckleys or anyone else. More, you will have only the clothes on your back. You will not be allowed to stop by your lodgings, nor will you be allowed to take your horse or tack on board. You will leave England with nothing but the clothes you stand in and your wits.”
Masterton’s face had gradually blanked as the reality of what he was being offered sank in.
“Should you agree to these terms,” Godfrey continued imperturbably, “you will spend the night in your current quarters beside the scullery. Tomorrow at first light, you will be escorted under guard to Hull, a ticket will be purchased for you, and you will be seen onto the ferry.”
Godfrey paused. Until that moment, he hadn’t remembered the one element of Masterton’s plan that they hadn’t been able to deduce. Godfrey glanced at Mr. Hinckley, then at Harry and Maggie, and hoped they would remain as silent yet disapprovingly accusative as they had thus far. “However,” he went on, returning his gaze to Masterton and infusing as much of Ryder’s brand of aloof intimidation into his tone as he could, “even that much consideration—banishment rather than Newgate—is conditional on you explaining to the family’s satisfaction what you did with the Albertinelli.”
Masterton had been gazing at his bound hands; now, he glanced up, his expression distant. He blinked; it seemed likely he’d already been working on his next plan. “What I did…” He humphed. “Cawley was pressing me for money—I had to give him something. He knew I haunted this house, worming my way into Matthew’s good graces, so Cawley suggested I look around here and see what was lying about. I remembered the painting was supposed to be by some famous artist, so I checked the signature and went back to Cawley and asked what it might be worth. Cawley arranged all the rest—he got in touch with someone who knew a nobleman who was willing to pay thousands for that particular painting, but he—the nobleman—insisted there be no hue and cry, which suited me, given I had hopes of more from Hinckley Hall. The buyer directed me to Hendall. We arranged for Hendall to come and work in Hull, so when he was ready, I took the painting out through the disused wing and took it to him.” Masterton shrugged. “You can guess the rest.”