He wasn’t even surprised any longer at the extent of her knowledge, and had in fact come to rely upon it. Sir Noel no longer bothered to ask him where he got his information, but he’d trusted it, and Aunt Dolly had never steered them wrong. “He’s perhaps more staunch on it than Liverpool himself,” Marcus agreed. “It seems as if Liverpool is willing to cede a few things just to get the issue off his plate. Do you know anything about Trelawney from way back? He went to France in a diplomatic capacity more than twenty-five years ago. He knew Nathaniel Bracken, father of Viscount Fitzroy, while he was there.”
He could see the pieces falling into place, practically clicking in her mind as she made the connection between his inquiry into Trelawney and the man who had attempted to assassinate the Prince Regent last spring. “I will make inquiries. What about the other name?”
“General Eddington? Retired. Also in France during Bracken’s stay there. I know it seems like a very long time ago, but perhaps you have some contacts? At one time you knew every courtesan and mistress in the city. If Eddington or Trelawney kept a woman in the past, she might know something of their time in France. Really, anything you can find out about either of them might prove helpful.”
“I have some friends, retired from the life now, but they knew people who knew people in the diplomatic corps many moons ago. I will ask.”
A noise sounded from below, and Marcus straightened.
“Do not worry. May and Belinda will see to things. They will call me if needed.” The knitting needles never stopped. “What else is on your mind?”
She could dig secrets like a Welshman could dig coal. “There is a rumor that by tomorrow the war may be over. A messenger is en route to London with the news that Napoleon is dead and the Bourbons restored to the throne.”
She tilted her head. “Really?” Skepticism could be defined by her expression. “How many times have we heard that in the past months?”
“That’s what I asked. This one seems to have some legs. Sir Noel is making inquiries.” And Marcus had been told to keep out of it. His hands fisted on his thighs. He should be out there at the sharp end of the stick, and here he was, relegated to sniffing for information nearly thirty years buried.
“It will come to be nothing. The Peninsular Campaign has hardly resumed since they broke winter quarters. Wellington is busy in Spain, and the Sixth Coalition hasn’t marched on Paris yet, though I surmise that will be their objective this spring. What else is on your mind?” she asked again.
“Still trying to find out who hired Fitzroy to kill the prince. To say the Prince Regent is less than impressed with our efforts thus far would be an underestimate of his true feelings. He wants the scoundrels found and punished, and soon.”
“Percival Seaton has returned to London, and he has returned to some of his former haunts, including the establishments on this street. He’s causing no trouble, but you wanted to know his movements. It appears the Duke of Seaton has remained in the country.”
Aunt Dolly had a network of informants that would shame the Home Office. “Very well. Keep me apprised. Is Percival up to anything I should know about?” Percival, who also happened to be Diana, Countess Whitelock’s brother, had been a close associate of Viscount Fiztroy before the assassination attempt, and Marcus kept a watch on his movements, though he had not been able to find anything to accuse Seaton of beyond being a wastrel and a bore.
“He seems quite enamored of Pippa Cashel and has been to see her thrice this week, which must be draining his coffers, because she isn’t inexpensive. Beyond that, he hasn’t met anyone that I know of. What else is on your mind?” Aunt Dolly asked, her eyes assessing him with their usual directness.
“Why do you keep asking?” He spread his hands.
She said nothing, waiting with the patience of one of the china dogs that flanked the fireplace.
“I became engaged tonight.” The admission was out before he could call it back, and he rolled his eyes. Perhaps they should put Aunt Dolly in charge of interrogating prisoners. They would soon have every secret France and Spain possessed. He had shocked himself, because he never spoke of personal things here. He never mixed his private life with business.
“I see. To whom?”
He rubbed his palm along the nape of his neck under the queue of hair bunched there. Frustrated with himself, wanting to unsay the information, he yanked at the tie holding his hair and let it fall about his shoulders. “Lady Charlotte Tiptree, daughter of the Earl of Tiptree.”
Pursing her lips, she studied him. “You are aware …” Her voice trailed away, and her needles picked up their pace.
“That her father has a by-blow daughter who resides only three houses away and that his former mistress is now a charlady in the same house? Yes, I’m aware.” He leaned back in his chair. “And so is Lady Charlotte.”
Aunt Dolly nodded. “Are you aware that your new fiancée visited that same house earlier today and was sent away with a flea in her ear? Miss Pippa Cashel gave her a setdown and all but tossed her out. No further contact, and certainly no charity wanted.”
Poor Charlotte.
The needles clicked away. “How will your marriage affect your work for the Crown? Will you tell your new bride, or will you keep it from her?”
Aunt Dolly had a way of getting right to the heart of the matter and ringing it like a bell.
He shrugged. “Being married won’t change anything. I’m told it will help with my cover. Sir Noel insists that the Duke of Haverly needs a wife, and Lady Charlotte fits the requirements. Beyond that, she will not interfere with the rest of my work and life. In fact, she will help because once I am safely married, much of the curiosity and attention I draw at social events will diminish. No more anxious mamas, including my own, pushing their daughters at me with hopeful faces and doe eyes. Lady Charlotte will be my safeguard, and I can continue to do my work.”
“You believe that a wife will not ‘interfere’ with your life?” Aunt Dolly snorted. “Is she a simpleton or a dullard? If so, she will not make you happy. You need someone to challenge you, to make you think, and to keep your wits sharp. Tell me she is not some fresh-faced child barely out of the schoolroom?”
The speed with which he leapt to Charlotte’s defense surprised him. “No, in point of fact, she is not. She must be all of twenty-one or two, and she’s quite well read, with a keen mind. She plays cards like a professional gambler, has a good memory, and enjoys history. Perhaps a bit on the plain side by society’s standards, but that doesn’t signify. She will fill a role, suit a purpose. She can appear on my arm for a few social functions. My movements and work for the Crown here in London won’t be hampered.”
The knitting needles fell still, and Aunt Dolly looked at him over the top of her half-moon glasses. “If she is as intelligent as you say, she will not be content to be relegated to the margins of your life. What woman worth her salt would be? Do you contend that you can so neatly box her in that you can keep her separate from the rest of your life forever?” Her eyes said he had dried peas where his brains should be. “You will marry her and exclude her from the most important parts of your life? You’ll use her when it suits you and ignore her the rest of the time? What kind of woman would be content with that? And for how long? Surely she will want to be more than a placeholder and fashion accessory. I thought better of you. Marrying a woman for appearance’s sake. What about the getting of an heir? Will you go about that in the same cold-blooded way?”