“Quite right,” Regan agreed. “Of course, I confronted her and found out that Ballmore was my real father. They were, as I said, to be married, but Ballmore was killed outside a theatre in York before the marriage took place. She met Stoneleigh, who, despite her condition, wished to marry her.”
“I’m sorry, Regan,” Kiernan said.
“Never mind about that. I never knew the man, though, it was a shock, and I was furious with Mother for keeping it from me.”
“I don’t know that she had a great deal of choice.”
“No, I suppose not. And Stoneleigh has been good to me. Still, I couldn’t help being curious about Ballmore, so I did some investigating and discovered he had a little actress on the side.”
“Common enough," Kiernan commented.
“True, but he wasn’t the only one. Lord Niles Mallory was in love with the girl as well. Sarah—” Regan snapped his fingers lightly “—some obscure woman, no one we would have heard of—Hazelton, yes, that’s it. Anyway, Ballmore and Mallory were both chasing after her.”
“Mallory, isn’t he the fellow who made all that racket about the labor laws in the House of Lords a few years ago?” The same man who, so many years ago, accused Phoebe's father, Mason Wallington, of being a traitor to the Crown?
“That’s him," Regan said. "What do you think of this? I found that Mallory was in York when my father was there.”
Kiernan studied him. “What are you saying?’
“I read the reports. Ballmore's death was no ordinary mugging. He was beaten.”
“Muggers often beat their victims.”
Regan shook his head. “This sort of beating was fueled by rage, the kind of beating one gets in a brawl.”
“Those records would have to be over thirty years old. How did you manage to glean so much detailed information? Don’t you think perhaps you’re reading into this what you wish to find?"
“I knew you would think so. But God help me, it’s true. I spoke with the young officer—he’s not so young now. He was, by his own word, ‘the embodiment of all an officer of the law should be.’ He went to great lengths to document and investigate all crimes under his jurisdiction.”
“If he suspected foul play of a different nature, why didn’t he investigate?’
“He did, only he didn’t connect Mallory, and hit a dead end.”
“How did you connect Mallory?”
"It wasn't well known that Mallory was in love with Sarah. When Ballmore was killed, Sarah kept quiet about Mallory. He set her up with a stipend. But, she died a few years ago and, of course, the money stopped. She has a daughter, Harriet, who threatened to bring Mallory’s involvement in Sarah’s life to the attention of the authorities, but something happened to scare her into silence.”
“Mallory threatened her?”
“I don't think it was Mallory. I think it was Harrington.”
“Harrington? Why would he concern himself with Mallory?”
Regan shrugged. “Damned if I know, but I would bet a month's allowance he did.”
But Kiernan was suddenly certain he knew why. Here was the answer to how Harrington had coerced Mallory into falsely denouncing Wallington.
“But you have no real evidence the two are connected,” Kiernan said.
“No.” Regan sat forward, his expression a combination of excitement and sober speculation. “But it’s obvious Mallory despises Harrington, and the hate goes deep. Harrington passes it off as Mallory being angry the labor bill didn’t pass. Harrington opposed him on it. Yet, you find the two men in one another’s company a great deal.”
“And you have found yourself in their company of late? Just as you were the other night at the Halsey ball,” Kiernan said.
“I was acquainting myself with Mallory, which, of course, had me in Harrington’s company. Hence the reason I was recruited.”
“How is it this mess has brought you here?”
“Harrington is here.”
“Harrington? What is he is doing here?” Kiernan demanded, but knew the answer—and didn't like it.
“I have no idea," Regan said. "I'm not even sure what prompted me to follow him."
Kiernan cursed again. "Stoneleigh, I might have you whipped after all."
*****
The Andalusian. There was no mistaking the horse. Phoebe had seen the creature while at Brahan Seer. It was unlikely there was another like it in all of Scotland. The animal belonged to the Marquess of Ashlund. Her husband. She nodded to the stable master, who was saying, “The hotel is just a little ways down the main street.”
“Yes,” she replied. “I rode past it.”
The man smiled. “Aye, then, ye know where you’re going.”
“Indeed,” Phoebe said, and smiled despite the fact her heart was breaking. She knew exactly where she was going.