The Suffragette Scandal (Brothers Sinister #4)(51)

Mr. Marshall turned to him, scowling. “Wait. What are you doing?”

Edward waved his hand. “Free and I didn’t tell you the full plan. You’d have objected.”

“I’m objecting now.”

Edward ignored him. Instead, he walked up to his quarry.

“Here’s what you’re going to do to avoid a prison sentence, Andrews.” He let his voice drop to a deceptively gentle register. “First, you’re going to take this advance proof.” He tapped Andrew’s pocket. “And you’re going to deliver it to…who is it that you normally deliver these to?”

“Alvahurst,” Andrews said. “Delacey’s secretary.”

“Good. You’re going to give it to him, just as you always do.”

Andrews looked puzzled.

“But you’ll tell him that you’ve heard plans that might interest Delacey. Mr. Marshall, see, is holding a soireé in a few days—one for his sister, who as we all know, is terribly beleaguered. You’ve heard that she’s desperate, and you think that Delacey would find the gathering amusing. When Alvahurst asks you to see if you can obtain an invitation, give him this.” Edward handed over a thick card.

“I say. Where did you get that?” Mr. Marshall asked. Edward ignored him again.

“You’ll have more duties on the night of the gathering,” Edward told him. “But we’ll discuss those later. Now, are we clear on what you’re to do?”

Andrews winced. “But—sir.” His hands shook. “I don’t think I’ve the nerve for it.”

“Of course you have the nerve for it,” Edward said, pitching his tone to warm comfort. “You have the nerve right now to be contemplating telling Alvahurst that you’ve been discovered. If you have the nerve to lie to my face, you can lie to his.”

Andrews went green.

“But then, you’re a clever fellow. What can Alvahurst do for you, aside from offer you a few extra coins? I can do much, much more. You see, stealing from an employer is a bad business. I doubt the magistrates will show you an ounce of pity. Mr. Marshall’s sister here runs a newspaper. Your reputation will be ruined. Even if you escape imprisonment, you’ll never work again.”

“Wait,” Mr. Marshall said. “Are you blackmailing him? That’s illegal.” He looked frustrated. “I’m an MP now. I can’t support that.”

“No, you draw your ethical line at two biscuits with tea,” Edward said with a scoff. “I know you won’t support this. That’s why we didn’t tell you. Your condemnation, irrelevant as it is, is noted.”

Marshall took a step forward. “Don’t listen to him, Andrews.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Edward responded smoothly. “He’s no threat to you. He was willing to let you off at the first opportunity, that’s how understanding he is. The person you should be afraid of is me. I’m the one who knows where your banking records are kept. I can ferret out every payment that Delacey has made to you, match it up with the corresponding draft from his accounts.”

Andrews swallowed.

“I know all about your mother,” Edward said. “And your wife. Claudette, is it?”

Andrews paled.

“Marshall here is vaguely upset. He might talk sternly to you. I, on the other hand, am a very bad enemy to have, and a lovely friend. So tell me, what are you going to do?” Edward held out the invitation once more.

Andrews flinched back. His breath cycled. He stared at it and then slowly lifted his eyes to Mr. Marshall.

“Sorry, Mr. Marshall,” he said quietly. “But—but—”

Mr. Marshall folded his arms in disapproval.

“Here. Repeat after me what you must do,” Edward said, and when Andrews got it wrong, as Edward had suspected he would, he coached him once, twice, three times.

“There,” he said at the end. “You’ll do very well.”

“Do you think so?” Andrews smiled hopefully.

Of course he didn’t. Edward would have to introduce himself to Alvahurst to make sure everything went off as anticipated.

“Of course you’ll do well.” Edward clapped the man on the back. “I know you’ll do well, because I’ll know the instant you set one foot wrong.”

He could feel Marshall’s eyes digging into his back, but he escorted Andrews from the room and called a footman to take him out of the house.

He turned back. “There. Now was that so bad?”

Marshall was shaking his head in disapproval. “You knew it was him,” Marshall said.

“He was one possibility.” Edward shrugged.

“But you said you had proof. And you mentioned his mother and his wife. If you didn’t know…”

“I knew something about every possible subject.” Edward looked over at Marshall and frowned. “I just mentioned his mother and his wife. He filled in the rest himself. Come, Marshall. These are standard intimidation tactics—threaten small, and let the target’s imagination cast the necessary shadows.”

“Standard intimidation tactics?” Marshall asked. “What are you? And what are you doing with my sister?”

Edward smiled at him. “One of these days, you’re going to realize that your sister doesn’t need a man who follows the rules. There are too many rules and only one of her. Keep your brotherhood of left-handed do-gooders, Marshall. Your sister needs a man who is actually sinister. Now if you’ll excuse me…”