“I don’t care who his next lover might be,” she fumed, anger convincing her she spoke the truth. “Nor do I know who mine will be. But I’m certain I’ll find someone. Why should I be alone?”
“Why indeed?”
Genevieve’s complacency only further served to fuel Catherine’s ire. Determination stiffened her spine. “Exactly. I shouldn’t be alone, nor do I intend to be.” Reaching down, she picked up her reticule. “Thank you, Genevieve, for this chat. It has proven most… enlightening.”
“Always glad to help, my dear.”
“Now, if you’ll please excuse me, there is someone I must call upon.”
Something that looked like worry flickered in Genevieve’s eyes, but was instantly replaced with her normal insouciance. “Of course. Shall I see you out?”
“No, thank you. I know the way.”
And I know exactly where I’m going.
Andrew stood a bit apart from Mr. Carmichael, Lords Borthrasher and Kingsly, and Mrs. Warrenfield, waiting for them visually to assess the museum’s damage. Finally, they turned toward him, each bearing grim expressions.
“This is dreadful,” Mrs. Warrenfield murmured in her deep, raspy voice, her words partially muffled by her black veil.
“A frightful mess,” Lord Borthrasher agreed, his lip curled with distaste, his cold, vulturelike stare skimming over the room.
Lord Kingsly’s beady eyes narrowed, and he folded his arms over his paunch. “Never seen the likes of this.”
“Looks to me like it might take even longer than the two months you’ve estimated to put this back to rights,” Mr. Carmichael said, slowly stroking his chin, drawing Andrew’s attention to the man’s intricate gold ring bearing a square-cut diamond surrounded by onyx. Carmichael then clasped his hands behind his back and glared at Andrew. “Have you nothing to say, Mr. Stanton?”
Andrew’s gaze encompassed the group. “I am confident that two months will be sufficient time. I’ve spoken with the glazier regarding new windowpanes, and additional workers have been hired on to re-lay the floor. Barring any unforeseen problems, we will be fully caught up in two months’ time.”
“You mean barring any further unforeseen disasters,” Lord Kingsly said. “Have the scoundrels who did this damage been apprehended?”
“Not yet.”
“And it is most likely they won’t be caught,” Mr. Carmichael added with a scowl. “I’m appalled at the abundance of crime I’ve witnessed since arriving in London only a few short weeks ago. Pickpockets and thieves abound everywhere, even in the best parts of the city. Why, it was only a matter of days ago that Lady Catherine was shot-in the supposedly safe section of Mayfair.”
“The man responsible for that crime has been caught- much in thanks to your efforts, Mr. Carmichael,” Andrew reminded him. “It is true that criminals exist in England, but unfortunately they are everywhere.” He offered the man a half smile. “Even in America.”
“A fact of which I assure you I am aware,” Mr. Carmichael said in a frosty voice.
“Footpads everywhere,” Lord Kingsly chimed in. “Can’t trust anyone nowadays.”
“I completely agree,” Mr. Carmichael said, his narrowed gaze never leaving Andrew’s. “Tell me, Mr. Stanton, what guarantees do we, or any of the other investors have, that something like this won’t happen again?”
“Good heavens,” Mrs. Warrenfield said. “Again?”
“Certainly possible,” Lord Kingsly interjected before Andrew could reply, “especially as the perpetrators haven’t been caught. Probably some sort of game to them. Recall something similar occurring a few years back to Sir Whitscour’s renovations on his Surrey estate.”
“I remember that,” Lord Borthrasher agreed, lifting his pointed chin. “The minute Sir Whitscour set things back to rights, they were destroyed all over again. Might have a similar situation here.”
“I give you my word that steps will be taken to ensure the museum suffers no further damage. We’ll hire additional guards to patrol the perimeter,” he said.
“All well and good,” Mr. Carmichael said, “but I understand from the magistrate that the museum was already under guard, and that your man was rendered senseless by the vandals. Regardless of how many guards you might employ, they would be no match against a potential gang of evildoers.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid, Mr. Stanton, that what I’ve seen here, coupled with what I heard last evening, convinces me that investing in your museum is not a risk I’m willing to take.”
“What you heard last evening?” Andrew asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Rumors concerning the financial security-or rather lack thereof-of this museum enterprise were running rampant at the soiree I attended. As were questions regarding the authenticity of some of the relics you and Lord Greybourne claim to possess.”
Andrew forced his features to remain perfectly settled while anger shot through him. “I’ve no idea how such vicious rumors started, but I’m surprised that you would pay heed to such ridiculous gossip, Mr. Carmichael. I assure you that the museum is in sound financial shape. I’d be happy to show you, all of you, the accounts as proof. As for the relics, they have all been authenticated by experts attached to the British Museum.”
The chill did not leave Mr. Carmichael’s eyes. “I do not wish to see the accounts, as this project is no longer of any interest or consequence to me. I’m only thankful that I’d yet actually to sink any funds into this folly.” He turned to his companions and bowed. “You three should, of course, make your own decisions regarding this matter. Lords Avenbury and Ferrymouth, and the Duke of Kelby anxiously wait to hear what we’ve seen here today, and I’m guessing they will not find the report favorable.”
“Easy for you to walk away, Carmichael,” Lord Borthrasher grumbled. “It’s too late for me. I’ve already handed over five hundred pounds.”
“An investment that will prove profitable once-” Andrew began.
“ ‘Fraid I’m with Carmichael on this one,” Lord Kingsly said. “Greybourne’s a good man, but ’tis clear his interest in the museum has waned since his marriage, and I’m not eager to throw away any money. My wife does that quite well enough already.”
“I must concur with the gentlemen,” Mrs. Warrenfield said, her husky voice filled with regret. “I’m truly sorry, Mr. Stanton, but as you know, my health is quite fragile. It simply would be too much for my delicate state to be constantly worrying about not receiving any return on my investment.”
Andrew gritted his teeth. He could see by their expressions that no amount of cajoling on his part would change their minds-at least not today. “I see. While I understand your concerns, I assure you they are groundless. When the repairs are completed, I hope you will reconsider.”
Their expressions withered any hope of that outcome. After bidding him good day, they left as a group, and Andrew dragged his hand down his face. Bloody hell. Lord Kinglsy and Mrs. Warrenfield had each hinted at investing one thousand pounds. Yet losing that wasn’t nearly as crushing a blow as losing the five thousand pounds Mr. Carmichael had expressed interest in investing. And how many other potential investors would follow their lead and retreat? He suspected Avenbury, Ferrymouth, and Kelby would follow like sheep. He’d hoped to have some good news to relay when he wrote to Philip this evening, but unfortunately good news was proving difficult to come by.
He blew out a long sigh and raked his hands through his hair in frustration. Vandalism, harmful rumors, deserting investors-any one of these problems could spell disaster. The combination of all of them boded very poorly for the future of the museum, which in turn did not bode well for Andrew’s personal finances, which were largely invested in the project. Now, more than ever, he needed the handsome reward offered to him by Lords Markingworth, Whitly, and Carweather for discovering Charles Brightmore’s identity. He could only pray that the reward would not prove to be out of his reach.