The fellow showed them into his office, a cluttered space that smelled of damp coats and old books. They occupied the chairs near the desk and waited for Crump to settle into his worn leather seat before pressing him for answers.
“I trust what we say here shall remain confidential,” Eleanor said.
Crump nodded. “Of course.”
“You have a client who made an unusual request. Lady Lucille Bowman invited Lord Wrotham’s creditors to apply to you to have their bills settled. Can you confirm that is correct, sir?”
The man mumbled, clearly worried about discussing such high-ranking individuals. “A client’s personal wishes are confidential.”
“I’m sure you’d agree there is nothing criminal about paying one’s debts,” Theo said. Having one’s betrothed pay them was utterly shameful. “Perhaps you require more information.”
Eleanor took that as her cue to list the debts that had been paid. She mentioned the bookshop in Highgate and the perfumer in Covent Garden. “The owner of Breadwell’s confirms you paid his debts on behalf of Lord Wrotham. As the person who delivered the letters on Lady Lucille’s behalf, there is little you can tell me I don’t already know.”
Crump rubbed his forehead. “Yes, but how is this related to a search for a spy? And if you know this much already, what do you hope to learn from me?”
“Understanding the lady’s motives is crucial in our hunt for the spy,” Eleanor said, sounding convincing. “You will tell us what she said when she gave you the funds to pay Lord Wrotham’s creditors.”
“It will give us a better understanding of the situation,” Theo pressed. “I see no need to mention your office other than to inform Lord Melbourne we received your full co-operation.”
Crump considered them before saying, “The lady dealt with Mr Thatcher, but I was party to their conversation. Lord Wrotham’s bills were excessive, amounting to over seven thousand pounds. She said it was a small price to save a lady’s reputation.”
“How many creditors were there?” Eleanor asked.
“Twenty or more. The viscount has wasteful tendencies.”
Theo gave a mocking snort. “I know. He’s my cousin.”
Crump’s cheeks coloured. “Forgive me. I did not mean—”
“Say what you like about him. I despise the ingrate. Any man who makes a woman pay his bills deserves to rot in hell.”
Crump jerked in the seat and appeared a bit more lively. “It’s odd you say that because Lord Wrotham had no idea who had paid his debts. He came asking questions, complaining he was a laughing stock, and left believing his aunt had secretly made the donations.”
A creditor must have mentioned the solicitor’s office.
Eleanor sat forward. “You didn’t tell him about Lady Lucille?”
“Heavens, no. I said we dealt with a courier. The lady insisted on secrecy. We assumed she had saved her allowance or her father had given her the funds. But she became teary and confessed to parting with precious jewels to pay the baker’s bill.”
But why?
It made no sense.
Many lords had mounting debts.
It’s why they married ladies with large dowries.
Theo sighed. “Is there anything else you can tell us that might explain her motive?” They were missing something. The clue that tied it all together. “What made her settle her betrothed’s accounts?”
Crump shrugged. “We all thought it most peculiar.” He leaned closer. “I’ll deny this if questioned, but I’m inclined to think Lord Wrotham is the spy.”
Now they were getting somewhere.
“Why would you say that?” Theo said. Spies needed nerves of steel. Wrotham was as weak as a wilting flower. Moreover, there was no spy. Just a devil out to hurt Eleanor and ruin her business.
“It’s fair to say she despises the man. I’m sure her father could find just cause to withdraw from the marriage agreement.”
So why pay the debts of a man you detest?
“She cursed him to the devil in a most unladylike manner,” Crump continued, “and made us swear not to mention her name should he call. Thatcher thought she looked as frightened as a doe. Before she left, she urged us not to accept his money unless we wanted to meet our maker. It was most perplexing.”
Theo’s pulse rose. He was a moth drawn to the flame of curiosity. Wrotham had something to hide. Seeing to his downfall was Theo’s life ambition. What secret was worth killing a solicitor over?
Having wrung Crump for every snippet of information, they left the office and returned to the carriage.
“Why would Lady Lucille entertain a man like Lord Wrotham?” Frown lines marred Eleanor’s brow. “Do you think her father is insisting she marry him?”
Theo relaxed back against the squab. “Nothing matters more to the aristocracy than maintaining appearances. While our visit answered some questions, it brings us no closer to the blackguard who threatened you.”
She pursed her lips, her expression grim. “Suspicion falls on Jack Rogers. He fits the profile and wanted me out of the shop.”
“When I threatened him outside the tavern, he swore he’d never been in your yard. The man is a drunkard. You’d have smelled liquor on him, and he cannot afford to waste money on books.”
Her shoulders slumped. “No one else has a motive. Mr Rogers needed me out of the way so Emily could steal haberdashery.”
Lucille Bowman could afford to leave a book in a coal shed. She had a motive for stealing Eleanor’s diary, and there was a record of her notes being delivered to Wrotham’s creditors. Had she hired a man to do her wicked deeds?
Theo aired his concerns. “Is it a coincidence that Lady Lucille requested the book with the blank note from Pickering’s library? She wanted you out of the shop so she could steal your diary.”
