Kit, Alicia, and Leonora shook their heads.

One of the men muttered something about the seasons.

Alicia tapped an item on one list. “Three hundred ell of finest muslin. Remember how expensive muslin was? The price is much better now, but when this was brought in, it would have been worth a small fortune.”

“Hmm.” Leonora studied the entry. “I never thought of it before—one simply grumbles and pays the price—but it must have been due to the war.”

“Supply and demand,” Kit said. They were speaking quietly, their lighter voices a counterpoint against the men’s rumblings. “Jack says it’s the merchants who best supply the demand who get on in business.”

“True,” Miranda put in, “and during the war, the demand was always there, never satisfied. Anything imported was by definition expensive. Just think how the prices of silks—”

“Let alone tea and coffee.” Alicia tapped another entry on one list.

Miranda nodded; so did the others. “All those things became hideously dear….” Her words faded.

Their gazes met. They all exchanged one long wondering glance, then looked at the lists.

“You don’t think…?”Adriana leaned nearer.

All five ladies bent over the lists again.

The gentlemen continued to reassess and revisit their reasoning, trying to see a way forward.

Alicia straightened. “That’s it.” She pointed triumphantly to items listed on each of the six bills of lading. “Tea and coffee!”

“Yes—of course!” Kit snatched up one of the lists and checked the entry, then reached for another.

“Ah—I see!” Leonora, face lighting, picked up another list.

Tony, Tristan, and Jack exchanged glances. “What do you see?” Tristan asked.

“The item in common.” Alicia picked up another list and pointed to a line. “Tea—one thousands pounds of finest leaves from Assam.”

Handing that list to Tony, she picked up another. “On this one, it’s coffee—three hundred pounds of best beans from Colombia.”

Kit sat back. “So sometimes it’s coffee, and sometimes it’s tea—one from the West Indies, the other on ships from the East.”

“But they’re often both handled by the same merchant,” Leonora informed the men as the lists made their way around the circle again. “Not necessarily sold through the same shops, but it’s usually the same supplier.”

“Which supplier?” Christian asked.

The ladies exchanged glances. “There are many, I imagine,” Miranda replied. “It’s a profitable area, and fashionable in its way.”

“But it’s the price that’s so important.” Alicia looked around the male company. “It’s always difficult to get good-quality coffee and tea—there never is enough brought into the country, even now. As Kit said, it’s supply and demand, so the price always remains high.”

“For good quality,” Adriana stressed.

“Indeed.” Kit nodded. “And that, perhaps, is where A. C. might have made his money. During the war, certainly over the years ’12 to ’15, the price of tea and coffee—the better-quality stuff—fluctuated wildly. It was always high, but sometimes it reached astronomical heights.”

“Because,” Leonora took up the tale, “you men always insist on your coffee at the breakfast table, and we ladies, of course, must have our tea for our tea parties, and the ton wouldn’t go around if those things weren’t there.”

There was an instant’s silence as the men all stared at them.

“Are you saying”—Charles leaned forward and fixed them with an intent look—“that during the war, the price of tea and coffee was often driven high—very high— because of sudden shortages?”

All five ladies nodded decisively.

Miranda added, “Only the best-quality merchandise, mind you.”

“Indeed. But tea and coffee—the finest quality—appears on each of those lists? One or the other at least?”

Again, the ladies nodded.

“That,” Alicia concluded, “seems the only link—the only thing in common, so to speak.”

“Held to ransom over our breakfasts.” Gervase gathered the lists and shuffled through them. “Doesn’t bear thinking of, but it certainly looks—and sounds—right.”

Tristan was looking over his shoulder. “Two ships from the West Indies with coffee, the other four, all East Indiamen, carried tea.”

“These prices.” Jack fixed his wife with a questioning glance. “How much of an increase are we looking at— prices twice as high, three times?”

“For the best coffee?” Kit glanced at Leonora and Alicia. “Anything from ten, to even fifty times the usual price, I would say.”

“For tea,” Miranda said, “it could easily be from ten to thirty times the price before the war—and even that price was always high.”

“How high?” Tristan asked.

The ladies pursed their lips, then tossed around figures that made the men blanch. “Good God!” Charles stopped, calculating. “Why that’s…”

“One hell of a lot of money!” Jack growled.

“One hell of a lot of profit,” Gervase said.

“One very good reason to ensure that the supply failed at critical times.” Tony fixed the ladies with an inquisitorial look. “From what you’re saying, the person who would stand to gain—”

“Is the merchant who had brought in a cargo of tea and coffee safely just before any shortage occurred.”

It was Jack who had spoken. Tony looked at him. “Before?”

Jack nodded. “The warehouses and docks know when a ship and its cargo doesn’t arrive, and the merchants mark up the prices of the goods they have in stock accordingly—that I know for fact.”

“So…” They all sat and thought it over, then Tony called them to order. “Assuming the answer is tea and coffee, how do we go on from here?”

“We first check the waybills of the other ten ships we know were lost courtesy of Ruskin’s information.” Jack glanced at Tony. “Two of us, now we know what we’re looking for, could probably check all the waybills at once.”

Tony nodded. “We’ll do it tonight.”

“Meanwhile,” Christian said, “the rest of us can start investigating the merchants who specialize in tea and coffee. The connection to A.C. must be through them.” He frowned, then glanced around. “What could the connection between A.C. and a merchant be, given we know, or at least can surmise, that A.C. is one of the ton?”

Charles grimaced. “Can we surmise that, do you think? That he is one of us?”

“I think that’s beyond question,” Tony answered.

“Who else would have known how to manipulate the ton against Alicia? And Dalziel confirmed that the third round of information against her had been laid through the most exclusive gentlemen’s clubs. There seems little doubt A. C. is a member not just of the ton, but the haut ton—our circle.” A memory floated through his mind; he grimaced. “Indeed, I suspect I’ve seen him.”

“You have?”

“When?”

He briefly explained, describing the man he’d seen through the mists in Park Street all those nights ago.

“Astrakhan—you know, that’s not all that common,” Jack Warnefleet said. “A point to remember, especially if he didn’t know you’d seen him.”

“That leaves us still facing the final question,” Christan said. “What link could there be between a tea and coffee merchant and a member of the haut ton?”

The room fell silent; only the ticking of the mantelpiece clock could be heard, then Charles looked at Tony. “It couldn’t be that, could it—the reason behind Ruskin’s murder?”

“It’s certainly feasible.” Tristan leaned back in his chair. “There’s many in the ton would move heaven and earth to hide any contact with trade.”

“Add to that the illegality involved, let alone its treasonous nature…” Gervase glanced around. “That’s a powerful motive for removing Ruskin.”

“And then going to any lengths to cover his tracks.” Tony’s gaze was fixed on Alicia.

There were slow nods all around. Charles leaned forward, hands clasped. “That’s it—we might not yet be able to see the player, but that assuredly is the game. A. C. is directly involved in trade via some tea and coffee merchant.”

Suddenly needing to move, Tony rose. Crossing to the fireplace, closer to Alicia, he braced an arm on the mantelpiece and looked around the circle. “Let’s recapitulate. A. C. is at the very least a sleeping partner with a merchant who imports the finest tea and coffee. In order to increase profits by driving up prices, he sets out to manipulate the supply of tea and coffee through having ships carrying competitors’ supplies taken by the French.”

He looked at Jack Hendon. “How did he know which ships to target?”

Jack shrugged. “Easy enough if you’re inside the trade. The merchants know each other, and each merchant usually has contracts with only one or at most two shipping lines, and the ships run by each line are listed in a number of registers, none hard to access. It wouldn’t have been difficult.”

Tony nodded. “So he knows which ships to target to make his plan work. With the information from Ruskin, he knows when each returning ship will not be under frigate escort, and thus an easy and vulnerable target for a foreign captain.”

His voiced hardened. “So A. C. arranges for the target ships to be taken, then sits back in London and counts the inflated return from the cargo he’s already landed.”

A long silence followed, then Christian straightened. “That’s how it worked. We need to identify all possible merchants, then investigate which one had safe cargoes to exploit.”

“And from there,” Jack Warnefleet murmured, “we dig until we uncover A. C.—there’ll be some track leading back to him, one way or another.”

The soft menace in his tone was balm to them all.

Christian looked at Tony. “I’ll act as coordinator in the search for the merchant, if you like.” He glanced at the other members of the club. “We can take that on. I’ll let you know the instant we identify the most likely firm.”

Tony nodded. “I’ll go with Jack tonight and confirm that the link holds good—if there’s any ship taken that wasn’t carrying tea or coffee, it might give us a link to another aspect of A. C.’s trade interests.”

“True.” Christian stood. “The more links we can get to A. C.’s trading activities, the easier it’ll be to identify him conclusively.”

The men rose. The ladies did, too, exchanging plans for meeting that evening at the balls they’d attend.

As the group emerged into the front hall, Charles paused beside Tony, his gaze uncharacteristically bleak. “You know, I might have understood if A. C.’s motive was in some way…well, patriotic even if grossly misguided. If he was the sort of traitor who sincerely believed England should lose the war and follow some revolutionary course. But be damned if I can understand how any Englishman could so cold-bloodedly have sent so many English sailors to almost certain death at the hands of the French”—he met Tony’s gaze—“all for money.”

Tony nodded. “That’s one point that sticks in my craw.”

Along with the fact A. C. had cast Alicia as his scapegoat.

Expressions grimly determined, they made their farewells and parted, all convinced of one thing. Whoever A. C. was, the man had no soul.




EIGHTEEN

“TAKE CARE!”

In the crush of Lady Carmody’s ballroom, Alicia watched Kit lecture her handsome husband, then she turned on Tony, standing beside Alicia.

“And you, too. I suppose I feel responsible after pulling you out of the water all those years ago, but regardless, I would prefer not to have to come to some dockside Watch House and explain to the interested who you both are.”

Tony raised his brows. “If we’re caught, it’ll be your husband’s fault—I haven’t been retired as long as he.”

From the look on Kit’s face, she didn’t know whether to take umbrage on Jack’s behalf or be more worried still. When no eruption ensued, Jack, behind her, glanced around at her face. Sliding his arm around her, he hugged her. “Stop worrying. I’ll—we’ll—be perfectly safe.”

Alicia turned to Tony. She fixed him with her most severe look, the one guaranteed instantly to wring the truth from her brothers. “Is he speaking the truth? Will you be all right?”

Tony smiled; lifting her hand, he pressed a warm kiss into her palm. “There’s no danger to speak of. Lloyd’s is just a coffeehouse—easy pickings.”

She wasn’t entirely convinced and let it show; his smile deepened.

Glancing around at the jostling throng, at the many gentlemen moving through its ranks, looking over the available ladies, he murmured, “I’m more concerned about you. Geoffrey will stay close, and Tristan and Leonora will meet you at the Hammonds’, then Geoffrey will see you home.” He met her gaze. “You face more danger than I.” He added, pointedly, “Take care.”