Lord Heathborough Invests, page 1
Lord Heathborough Invests
The Traitor Lords book 2
By Adella J. Harris
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Laurence, Lord Heathborough, hired his handsome new solicitor to distance himself from his father’s treason. Robert took the job hoping for enough references to start his own firm. But when the Crown suspects of Laurence of being part of stock swindle, he’ll need to decide if he can trust his new solicitor, or if Robert was part of the plot all along
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Copyright (c) 2017 Adella J. Harris
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
About the Author
Chapter 1
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LAURENCE NELSON, LORD HEATHBOROUGH, picked up the morning newspaper and almost dropped it into his eggs when he saw the headline. Lord Burfield Confesses, Details Traitor Lords’ Assassination Scheme: A Desperate Plan to Force the Government to Deal with Reformers. He had always known his father would destroy the family, but he’d always assumed it would be through his gambling, drinking, or womanizing. It had never entered his mind that it would come about by his betrayal of the king. Laurence skimmed the article, which didn’t say much. Father had apparently been arrested and then thought it was a good idea to ramble on to some reporter, telling them all about the plan that he and his friends had hatched to assassinate the king, which they seemed to think would force the government to come down hard on the reformers they were planning to implicate. It had been thwarted, of course. None of them had had the brains to carry out a secret assignation at a brothel, let alone an assassination, but Father was the only one in custody—Lord Martford was on the run, and Lord Lynster had shot himself—and apparently wanted the world to know how clever they thought they were. Laurence dropped the paper on the floor by his chair and returned to his eggs. At least he had never counted on the title or the estate. Now there would be the calls. The gossips could be turned away, but there would be others... Best to eat while he could.
It turned out to be less time than he’d thought. No sooner had he buttered his toast than his butler, Wilkes, entered the breakfast room. “Mr. Gaines, my lord.”
“Mr. Gaines, what an unexpected pleasure.” Technically it was the truth; he hadn’t expected the Exchequer’s own secretary to arrive at his breakfast table, but he’d known the man would show up sometime as soon as he saw the headline. “Was there another project your employer wanted to bring to my attention?” Laurence had always thought it prudent to invest in projects the Crown wanted to see funded. He’d always thought it would be useful when Father said or did something idiotic; he simply hadn’t realized the idiotic would extend to attempted assassination.
“Not today. I think you know why I’ve come.”
“To discuss my father.” There was no purpose pretending it was anything else.
“I knew you would understand. It makes it so much easier to get straight to the point. We know you were not part of his scheme; your loyalty is not in question.”
“That’s very kind of you to say.” He’d known investing in the Crown’s pet projects would stand him in good stead; it seemed he was about to reap all of the benefits in one swoop.
“But I’m sure you will understand that we would be more comfortable if there was some proof of it.”
“I would be quite happy to share my books or to invest in something his highness feels is worthwhile.”
“I’m afraid it’s not that simple. Your father has been talking to the press, and that has made them curious. It would be easier all around if, when they come asking why we haven’t arrested or at least questioned you, we had something tangible to show that you are not part of the problem.”
“I see.” He did see. He hadn’t realized how lucky he was that he had thrown money at any projects the king found important. “What sort of proof?”
“I’m afraid that will depend entirely upon what sort of questions they ask. I’m sorry I can’t offer more of an explanation.”
“I do understand. Thank you for the warning at least. I’ll consult with my solicitor and see what he says.”
“That would be prudent. I’ll let my employers know that you were very understanding.”
How could he be anything else when his father was openly bragging about having been part of a treasonous conspiracy? “Thank you. Would you like to stay to breakfast?” He knew the answer to that question but felt it was prudent to offer.
Mr. Gaines ignored the offer. “Of course, if there was some small investment in certain shares...well, certain facts might not make it to the light of day.”
“Shares?” Laurence asked, hoping he was worried for nothing and it was just some canal or bridge that the Crown needed help funding.
“A little project of my own. I’d be inclined to be forgetful and let a few things in my possession slip into the fire.”
So he’d been right—blackmail. The question was did Gaines have something real, or was he simply taking the opportunity presented by someone related to a known traitor? Laurence knew there was nothing in his business dealings that could have even the suggestion of impropriety. He was careful in his more private affairs, ridiculously so, unless Mr. Gaines had happened upon something from school... He kept his face carefully neutral as he said, “If you have some business proposition for me, I’d be happy to look at the proposal. I certainly wouldn’t want you losing any important papers in the fire.” He waited for Mr. Gaines’s reaction.
“I see. I will let you know if the proposal goes through.”
So he didn’t have anything concrete. That was a relief. The last thing Laurence needed was a bout of blackmail. Well, the last thing he needed was for a blackmailer to go to the authorities and find himself convicted of sodomy, but blackmail would still be inconvenient. He pretended not to have noticed Mr. Gaines’s disappointment. He still needed the man to help him navigate the troubles Father was about to bring down on his head. “I look forward to seeing it. Would you like some coffee at least?”
“No, thank you. I should let them know how satisfactorily this business has been concluded. Good day.”
Laurence watched the secretary follow Wilkes out of the breakfast room, then attacked his eggs. He had to get to Penroy’s office and find out exactly where he stood in all this mess. Pity he couldn’t help with the threat of blackmail, but Laurence was careful. Too careful, his friends at university had thought. But they hadn’t known about the one incident; fortunately for him, the servant had also been caught stealing, and he’d been the one to catch him, so the blackmail had been put down to revenge.
And there had been the incident with Hartley. That was when he had become so cautious. Ever since the night Stanford Hartley had burst in on him at the brothel just outside of Oxford, perpetually short of money Hartley, laughing and saying he’d seen Laurence going up the stairs and why didn’t they share the fun? And then Hartley had seen who he was with, the young lad who was slim and handsome and far too masculine to be anything but what he was, and he’d just stared, his face frozen in a look halfway between the jovial air of the hallway and the shock and revulsion he was trying to hide, not sure what to say. Laurence hadn’t thought Hartley had meant for it to happen; he’d merely been hoping to get a free night with a warm body the same way he tried for free ale at the pub when he was low on funds, just not the sort of body Laurence was with. And Laurence had thought he was being so cautious, going to a place outside of town. And then Laurence had lived with the fear of reprisal.
Two years—two years he’d worried, and just when he’d started to think he was safe, it had happened. The letter from Hartley asking for money. He’d hidden it well, saying he needed it to marry and would Heathborough be a chum as he’d been that night, but it had been clear, and on the heels of the servant at college who had threatened as well, it had been simplest to offer him five thousand pounds. He’d had Penroy invest it in the funds for them without explaining why, where the interest would be enough to give him and the fiancée a nice cushion. To his credit, Hartley never troubled him again, but the memory of that incident was enough to make Laurence shudder and double-check every threat twice to be certain there was nothing behind it. He knew he would not be so lucky a third time.
Lucien Penroy had been the family solicitor for as long as Laurence could remember, but Laurence had not seriously entertained the thought that he could be part of the conspiracy until he entered the office and found it almost deserted. Penroy was not at his usual desk in the back office but sitting at one of the smaller desks the clerks used when they were helping him with research. He looked up when the door opened.
“Lord Heathborough, hello. Please forgive the rather informal setting today. I told my clerks to stay home this morning. I didn’t think it was right to—well, to be blunt, to saddle them with your father’s stupidity until I saw how the Crown was going to treat me. And how are they treating you?”
“As a useful investor who is not above suspicion.”
“Under the circumstances, I would say that is the best you can hope for. I take it that was what you were here to discuss.”
“In part.” Since Penroy seemed ready to discuss it, he’d start there. “What is my position, legally speaking?”
“Unfortunately, you will inherit some of your father’s problems, or more properly, you won’t be able to inherit anything useful from him. But the damage should not extend beyond inheritance, provided they don’t find a way to drag you into the actual conspiracy.”
“What about Nelson and Company Investments?” As long as he could keep the business he’d built up, he would be all right. He was certain he would be all right.
Mr. Penroy sighed. “Let me explain about attainder. It will not be directed against you, but against your father. You will not be able to inherit because there will be nothing to inherit. Your father will have been stripped of his title, lands, possession, and his ability to inherit more. You are, unfortunately, collateral damage.”
“So my goods and my company will be all right.”
“They should be. The only wrinkle I could find—where did you get the money to start Nelson and Company?”
“My mother’s marriage portion. It was held in trust for her, and when she died, it went to me.”
“Then there should be no problem. Had your father gifted you the money, I would be confident that you were still all right as it was given long before this mess. My concern was if he could be considered an investor.”
Laurence felt tension he hadn’t realized was there leave his shoulders. He would be all right. That was a weight off of his mind. He’d been telling himself he would be, but he hadn’t believed it, not completely. “And Mr. Gaines indicated that they would want some kind of proof that I wasn’t involved.”
“It is very difficult to prove a negative.”
“But you’ll try.”
“Well, that was the matter I wanted to discuss with you. I was planning on paying a call to your home this afternoon if you hadn’t come. I think it would be best for appearance’s sake if you were to hire a different barrister from your father, just in case one is required. I would suggest Addison and Powell as they are very reputable and also have a group of solicitors named Glasson & Co. with whom they work regularly. As I said, I’m distancing myself from my clerks and students until I’m certain my association with your father won’t taint their careers; I think it best we do the same.”
Laurence had a hard time envisioning someone other than Penroy handling his business contracts, but then he did most of the work himself, so it wouldn’t be a terrible disruption in his business. “They’re as good as Barton & Sons?” He didn’t think Mr. Penroy would recommend someone noticeably worse to him than to his father, but he felt compelled to ask.
“Confidentially, they are a bit better than Barton & Sons. When I saw how your father was responding to the accusations...” Mr. Penroy bit his lip. “Honestly, I decided it would be best to recommend the better firm to you as there was little chance of getting your father off on the charges.”
Laurence would never have thought Mr. Penroy was capable of any sort of deception. He warmed to the solicitor at once. “Thank you. However, I’d like for you to continue as my solicitor.”
Mr. Penroy shook his head. “I think I will be retiring soon. And you would be better off with someone both younger and not associated with your father. Glasson & Co. has several good men. You might try one called Mr. Clarkson. I thought he seemed promising when he clerked for me several years ago. I think he might be just what you need.”
Clerked for Penroy several years ago. Laurence had visions of a slightly less grey version of Penroy. But he didn’t want to offend Penroy or hurt his feelings when he was trying to look out for Laurence’s interests, and he could always say the man had been too busy to take on a client with a thriving business like his. “Thank you. I’ll look into it.”
Robert Clarkson read the will one final time, but he didn’t see anything that could be misinterpreted or read in any way but what Mr. Perkins had wanted. He slipped the page into the file and put it into the stack to pass on to Mr. Glasson, who would personally bring it over to Mr. Perkins for signatures. That was the last one, the last will sitting on his desk. He’d finished them all, and now all he had to do was avoid getting assigned anything new until he’d managed to locate one of the partners and explain that he wanted to try his hand at something else, something more in line with what he’d studied. He’d tried asking before, but both times he’d had other estates open, and everyone had agreed it was best not to mix the types of documents he was working on. Glasson & Co. handled large numbers of contracts; really, estates were just something they did on the side, a courtesy to longtime clients, and one that always seemed to land on Robert’s desk. If he hadn’t known better, he would have thought the partners were trying to prevent him from ever having a practice of his own by handing him all the clients who wouldn’t be around to give him a reference in a few months, but that was ridiculous. To begin with, it would imply that Glasson & Co. were less than honest in their dealings with him, and then that keeping him in the firm was worth the effort of deceiving him to begin with. It was far more logical to think that it was some sort of habit that everyone had gotten into and which could hopefully be broken by having a few words with someone in authority.
Robert picked up the file of completed papers and glanced into the hallway outside of the clerks’ office. It was empty, so he had a good chance of making it to Mr. Glasson’s office with the folder before anyone could stop him and hand over a new set of wills. He slipped out and started for Mr. Glasson’s office.
But he’d barely made it out the door when Mr. Denton came out of his office and spotted Robert. “Mr. Clarkson, just the person I wanted to see. Mr. Biller needs his will updated, so you will be going to his office to deal with the matter.”
Robert sighed. He was thoroughly sick of wills. He’d known when he decided to study the law that wills would be a part of it, but he had not wanted that to be the sum total of what he did. And he always got stuck with the squabbles, the illegitimate children raised as part of the family and excluded, or the secret son left everything, or the multitudes of marriages to be sorted out, or the old fool who tried to control everyone with the contents of the document. Never the nice simple passing on of a family business or a basic entail. Mr. Biller had been married three times and didn’t know where half of his children were and wasn’t convinced of the parentage of most of the others. “You’re certain you wouldn’t rather Mr. Andrews handled it? He does know the family.”
Mr. Denton smiled at him. “But you’re so good at wills, Mr. Clarkson. I think that will more than make up for the lack of familiarity, especially considering the division of property he is considering. And it seems you were present when he was discussing the previous will, which he now says he wishes to reinstate. You seem to have assumed he wished to revoke it.”
“Well, after he tore it up, threw it in the chamber pot, and set it on fire, yes, I did rather have that impression. Of course, I didn’t stay to see when or how he put out the fire.”
“You know as well as anyone that people can be a bit odd when it comes to wills. And you are very good at them, and at difficult clients.”
Every time he wrote a will, Robert was tempted to make some awful mistake so they would stop saying he was good at them and reward his attention to detail with more work. He was also very good at business contracts, and he preferred those, and at deeds, but no one ever sent those his way. But he knew he really couldn’t make some mistake, not intentionally. It would be the heirs who would suffer if he did, and it wasn’t their fault that he wasn’t happy with his lot in life. Maybe he could stumble across a very unfair will and make a mistake that would make it more just... But he knew that wouldn’t happen. He pinched himself hard on the hip to stop himself from saying something that would most likely lead to his dismissal then went to get the file from Mr. Denton’s office.
Before he could, Mr. Paulding came in from the front room. “I’m afraid you’ll have to reassign that. Clarkson’s been requested by Mr. Glasson.”
Mr. Denton stared at Mr. Paulding. “Really?”
Robert couldn’t tell if that was merely something to say or an expression of disbelief. He wouldn’t be surprised if it were the latter.
