Were the members of the Brethren fighting over leadership?
The Marquis of Blackbeck was right about one thing. Brave men did not hide in the shadows. Brave men faced their quarry.
“I wish to speak to a member of this elusive club.” He wished to interrogate every man who bore the mark. “One word from you will get the gossip tongues wagging. I intend to rip their pathetic club apart until I find the rogue I seek.” Heat crept up his neck, and he gritted his teeth lest he deliver a string of vitriolic curses.
For the first time since making her acquaintance, uncertainty flashed in Mrs Crandall’s eyes. “Then I must offer caution. I’m a woman who knows many people. Based on my lack of knowledge, the men must go to great lengths to keep their secrets. Close ranks when faced with a threat.”
Cavanagh patted her hand again. “Rest assured. Trent will not act alone.”
“But if we can break up the pack, prey on one member, we have every chance of cracking his resolve.”
Mrs Crandall cast a mischievous grin. “And if I spread news of your intention, of what benefit is it to me?”
Lawrence looked at Cavanagh and raised his brows.
Cavanagh smiled, though his eyes carried a hint of frustration. “Trent and I had every intention of attending the masquerade tomorrow. If I am to spend my time scouring the streets for men with branding marks on their chests, what time is left for pleasure?”
The widow seemed to consider his comment. From the frown on her brow, she struggled with some internal dilemma.
“People rely on me to provide entertainment.” She trailed her fingertips seductively across the upper curve of her bosom. “And while instinct tells me to refrain from having any involvement in this matter, I can direct you to Joseph Bradley’s brother, Mr Isaac Bradley. He has a house on South Audley Street off Grosvenor Square.”
“Mr Bradley is a man of means?” Wycliff asked.
“Their father was the third son of a viscount, banished to the Americas where he made a vast fortune. The viscount forgave his son the indiscretion upon learning of his inflated bank balance, though the poor man died en route to London and left everything to his sons.”
“Does Isaac Bradley move about in society?” Lawrence had never heard of the man, but Mrs Wycliff might know the name.
Mrs Crandall snorted. “Lord, no! He’s the studious type. An academic. Bit of a recluse. Sadly, Joseph was the one with the insatiable appetite for frolicking.” She released her grip on Cavanagh’s knee. “So, am I to expect you at the masquerade tomorrow?”
“Undoubtedly.” Cavanagh stood and inclined his head to the woman who would eat him alive if given a chance. “We shall leave you to debate the theme of your next gathering.”
Lawrence rose, too. “It will be withered Woods unless the fellow puts on his shirt.”
When Wycliff made to leave, Mrs Crandall said, “Please give my regards to Mrs Wycliff. I shall ensure everyone knows it would be unwise to address her with a token name from the past.”
“To refer to my wife using any derogatory term is ill-advised,” Wycliff agreed.
They left Mrs Crandall to her business and took the carriage to Jermyn Street.
“Why the hell did you tell her I’d bedded Miss Vale?” Lawrence said once the wheels were rolling.
“I mentioned no names.” Seated opposite, Cavanagh flashed a mischievous grin. “Mrs Crandall would never have believed the story otherwise. It’s not as though she will ever meet Miss Vale.”
“Thank the Lord. The lady has suffered enough at the hands of degenerates.”
Wycliff narrowed his gaze and stared at Lawrence across the carriage. “For one so plain, Miss Vale has made quite the impression.”
“Can a man not show an ounce of compassion without his friends making jokes?” They knew his history, knew he despised those who preyed on the weak. For years, he had fought against the insecurity that came with mistreatment. No one dared confront him now.
Cavanagh alighted on Jermyn Street. He gripped the open carriage door and said, “Having given our word, we should attend the masquerade tomorrow evening.”
Lawrence groaned. The thought of parading around like a peacock proved distasteful, but having received useful information from Mrs Crandall, it was right they attend. “Then I shall meet you there at ten.”
With any luck, Wincote and Layton would be amongst the guests. The boisterous event might serve as a means to spy.
“Let me know if you wish to call on Mr Bradley, and I shall happily accompany you.” Cavanagh inclined his head and shut the door.
The carriage continued to Bruton Street.