Merely the Groom (Free Fellows League 2)

“I’m aware of that,” Colin said. “And I’ll do whatever I have to do in order to protect our mission.”

“Then, bon chance, mon ami,” Jarrod said. “I’ve dealt with the man, and I know firsthand that you’re going to need it.”

Chapter Eight

“We were not born to sue, but to command.”

—William Shakespeare, 1564-1616

Richard II

Baron Davies faced the Bow Street Runner from across the vast expanse of a heavy mahogany desk. “What do you mean, my daughter’s marriage isn’t legal?”

“Exactly what I said, sir.” Wickham took a deep breath, mentally counted to ten, and explained his latest findings in greater detail. “I’m sorry to be the man responsible for relaying this information to you, Lord Davies, but I’m afraid your daughter’s marriage cannot be legal.”

“She told me she eloped to Scotland, stood before a magistrate, and repeated her vows before witnesses,” Lord Davies related the facts he’d gleaned from Gillian. “Once she crossed the border into Scotland, she no longer required my permission to wed. Under the law, her marriage was perfectly valid.”

“That’s true, sir,” Mr. Wickham agreed. “And had it not been for the fact that the man she wed has two other wives, her marriage would be quite valid—providing he signed his true name. Unfortunately, your daughter’s bridegroom has two other wives he married, under different names, before he wed your daughter.”

“So, he’s a bigamist?” Lord Davies’s face turned a dark shade of scarlet.

“It would seem so.” Wickham nodded. “He married the other two women and your daughter within three months of one another. And all at the same anvil in Gretna Green.” He paused a moment in order to frame his next words. “It seems the magistrate—and I use that term loosely—who married him was equally unscrupulous and quite amiable to well-placed bribes of coin and jewelry. He swears that the man who married your daughter also married two other women—under different names, of course. According to the magistrate, your daughter’s husband wed three women in order to—” The Bow Street investigator cleared his throat. “In order to—well, I’m sure you can imagine why a scoundrel would pretend to marry an innocent young woman.”

“To seduce her?” Lord Davies banged his fist down on his desk. “That bounder married my daughter with full knowledge of the fact that he had already married two other women in order to seduce her?”

“Well, yes,” Wickham admitted. “And to relieve her of her coin and her valuables before sending her home in disgrace, where he would then continue to blackmail her for more cash in return for his silence.”

The baron was livid. “How dare he make my daughter his third wife? If he was going to become a bigamist, he should have made her his first wife. How dare he consider Gillian his third choice?”

Mr. Wickham thought the baron’s display of temper was misplaced. It seemed to him that Lord Davies’s concern should be for his daughter’s emotional state of mind and the physical complications that might arise from her brief encounter with a scoundrel. As far as Wickham was concerned, a bigamist was a bigamist, and the order of any marriages, beyond the first legal one, was of no importance. But the rich were different from ordinary folk, and Wickham had had enough dealings with the rich to know that the best way to handle Lord Davies’s display of temper was to wait until it passed before he continued.

“This cannot, in any way, be construed as an insult to your daughter, sir. In fact, our Mr. Fox would consider his choosing your daughter a compliment. He found her worthy of his attention.”

“Of course she’s worthy of his attention! He’s a scoundrel, a criminal, and a bigamist, while she is a lady, a beauty, and a considerable heiress!”

“That goes without saying, sir,” Wickham attempted to soothe the baron’s wounded pride. “And it is quite possible that Mr. Fox’s fondness for your daughter outstrips any affection he feels for the other two. He may even have genuinely desired a legal marriage with your daughter. But the fact that he married your daughter after he’d married the other two women makes your daughter’s elopement and marriage null and void.”

“What of her reputation?” Lord Davies demanded. “My daughter made a mistake by eloping with a bounder, but she married him in good faith.”

“Yes, she did,” Mr. Wickham, agreed. “And I believe your daughter is an honorable young woman. Unfortunately, she ran afoul of a man who uses a number of different names and to whom honor means little.”

Mr. Wickham’s diplomatic turn of phrase went a long way to mollifying Lord Davies. During their association, the Bow Street runner had quickly learned that Lord Davies tended to be very prickly wherever he perceived an insult or slight to his rank or his name. And the idea that a scoundrel would marry two other women before he married a baron’s daughter was abhorrent to him.

“Have you any idea where to find the rogue?” Lord Davies asked.

The Bow Street runner did have an idea where to find the rogue, but only because he’d found a note from Lieutenant Colonel Colquhoun Grant of the War Department awaiting him as soon as he arrived in his office this morning. The note from Colonel Grant requested an afternoon meeting between Viscount Grantham and Baron Davies to discuss the runner’s current search for Mr. Colin Fox.

Wickham related the details of the note, then followed by saying, “I took the liberty of issuing an invitation to Viscount Grantham to meet with us this afternoon in order to discuss information Viscount Grantham claims to have about the identity and the possible whereabouts of our elusive Mr. Fox.”

“Grantham?” Baron Davies cocked his head. “What has he to do with this?”

“Mr. Fox has lived up to his name. He’s been almost impossible to follow,” Wickham admitted reluctantly. “And every trail I’ve managed to uncover has led, in some way, to the War Office. Lord Grantham is attached to the War Office. I haven’t been apprised of the nature of his connection or the extent of his involvement in the department.” He frowned. “That part is rather murky. But the fact remains that the colonel sent word that Viscount Grantham had information to impart about the man we seek but would only do so in a private meeting with you.”

Baron Davies gave a thoughtful nod. “My daughter told me her husband was attached to the War Office and was acting as a clandestine agent for our government against Bonaparte and the French.”

Wickham sighed. He hoped Miss Davies’s information was correct and her erstwhile spouse was exactly what he pretended to be. But declaring oneself an agent for the government had become the latest fashion among young thieves and confidence men. It sounded heroic, romantic, and exciting, and young ladies flocked to heroes in droves. And the idea that a young man was a clandestine agent working for the good of his country appeared to give license to all sorts of behavior, on the part of all involved that would otherwise be considered quite beyond the pale.

According to Bow Street’s most recent estimates, approximately one in every six young men of a certain age and background in London claimed to be acting on behalf of the British government or on behalf of one of its allies. “I’m afraid your daughter may be mistaken, sir.”