“Good lord!” Sussex exclaimed once again when Colin had finished. “If we relay this information to Davies—and we must—we’re liable to push this traitor—whomever he is—into a very desperate corner.”
Jarrod nodded. “If what you suspect is due—” He turned to Colin and held out his hand in apology and friendship. “Your bride and her father are—”
“Targets,” Griff concluded.
Colin nodded. “I know.” He leaned close. “I think she was a target all along.”
“I don’t follow,” Griff said.
“What if her elopement was a kidnapping in disguise?”
Colin looked at his friends and colleagues. “What better way to gain control of twenty-four merchant ships than to gain control of the owner of them?”
“And what better way to do that than to gain control of a member of the owner’s family?” Griff added, as complete understanding dawned.
“Unless—” This time, Sussex played devil’s advocate. “I’m not saying I believe it,” he explained. “Only that it’s still possible that the baron arranged everything to trap you.” Colin agreed. “Except that the baron knew nothing about the Blue Bottle Inn, and neither did his investigator. Gillian never said a thing. She kept her meeting with Galahad a secret. The Bow Street runner and Gillian’s parents believe she spent two days in an inn at Gretna Green.”
“The Bow Street runner could easily check that,” Jarrod said.
“He did,” Colin told him. “That’s where he learned about the other two wives.”
“So, the runner and Lord Davies could have arranged everything and pinned it on you.”
Colin shook his head.
“Why not?” Jarrod demanded.
“Colin Fox had been to Gretna Green, but I never have.”
“What?” Sussex was surprised. “You’ve never been to Gretna Green?”
“I’m a Free Fellow,” Colin said. “I had no reason to go there and have always avoided the place like the plague.” He looked at the others. “If I had chosen to fight Baron Davies’s blackmail, I could have proven I wasn’t the man Gillian married.” He shrugged. “Hell, Gillian could have proven it.”
“And if you weren’t in Gretna Green with Gillian, someone else was. Someone who then took her to Edinburgh and abandoned her, probably for a king’s ransom—”
“A king’s ransom of ships,” Colin said.
“But if there was a request for ransom, I haven’t heard anything about it,” Jarrod said.
“They tried,” Colin said. “But there was nothing to ransom because I, or rather Galahad, gave Gillian the money to go home. Galahad paid the bill at the inn, hired a coach and driver, and paid the innkeepers handsomely to forget she had been there. Gillian was home by the time the ransom note arrived.”
“Bloody hell!” Jarrod exploded. “I think you’re right.”
“Who is the impostor?” Griff asked.
“I don’t know,” Colin said. “I suspect he may be a clerk in Lord Davies’s firm. And I intend to find out.”
“If you go to France now,” Sussex pointed out, “and leave your wife alone at Herrin House, she could be in danger.”
“I’m not going to France.” He looked at Jarrod.
But Jarrod had something else on his mind. “A clerk,” he said. “A clerk…” He snapped his fingers. “Bloody hell. A clerk.” Jarrod turned to Griff and Sussex. “Remember the meeting after Colin’s wedding?”
They nodded.
“Remember when I told you about my trot around the Row when so many curious chap
s approached me wanting information about the wedding and the wedding breakfast?”