Royal Revels by Joan Smith Page A

London. Her friends here were not at all the thing, you must know. You claim to be clever at these little problems. You’d best get busy and solve this one quickly, Belami. Much as I like the prince’s son, I cannot feel I want to end my days in the midst of a revolution. It was the unconscionable behavior of the rabble that killed off our class in France. All that will happen if the prince convinces the world his wedding to Fitzherbert is valid is that he’ll be dumped, and we’ll have York on the throne. I prefer Prinney.”
    She settled her shawl around her, gave a commanding nod to Deirdre and said she would retire now. Deirdre gave Belami a meaningful look and trailed after her aunt obediently.
    “I fancy she’ll be back,” Pronto told him. “Slipped her the clue this afternoon.”
     

Chapter Seven
     
    Deirdre darted out her door and downstairs the minute she heard her aunt’s door close. Belami gave an approving smile and held one shapely hand out to her.
    “Well done! We’ll have you reformed into a hoyden in jig time,” he complimented. He led her to a sofa, and the three sat down to discuss the case. These were some of her favorite moments, when she was taken into Dick’s confidence.
    “What’s the verdict on Smythe?” she asked.
    “Didn’t look spurred, booted, and riddled to me,” Pronto said with a sniff.
    “What?” Deirdre asked in confusion, thinking she had missed this bit of their talk while upstairs.
    “What your aunt was saying about his aristocratic bearing. Looked more like a demmed caper merchant to me. Imagine him not knowing a duchess ain’t a lady. Ain’t called one, I mean. Call her your grace, no matter if it don’t suit her.”
    “They don’t use titles in America,” Deirdre told him.
    “What’s to do then, Dick? Tell us what you want. We’re raring to go,” Pronto said.
    That casual “we” alarmed Belami to no small degree. Pronto’s intrusion into the case alarmed him. Introducing Smythe to the duchess and Deirdre alarmed him. That was bound to be laid in his own dish when the recriminations were eventually ladled out and the man proved a scoundrel.
    It seemed wise to get Pronto out of Brighton, and he had just the job for him.
    “If you really want to help, go to Devonshire for me and find out everything you can about this Alexander Smythe. Who he is, where his sudden inheritance came from that saw him off to Virginia. Find out, if you can, where George suddenly materialized from—if there even is such a person as George Smythe. It’s my belief he’s the illegitimate son of Alexander’s spinster sister and the father put up the money to spirit them out of the country.”
    “You said he wasn’t even from America!” Deirdre exclaimed.
    “I don’t think he is, but what Pronto will investigate is his claimed origins. We’ve got to start somewhere.”
    “Devonshire! Damme, that’s miles and miles away!” Pronto objected.
    “That’s why I can’t spare the time to go myself,” Belami told him. “I need a really reliable man to do it for me. It’s actually the most important feature of the case, Pronto. You won’t be out of it by any means. You’ll be at the very vital core of it all. Probably bring us back proof that solves the whole thing.”
    These carefully chosen words appealed strongly to Pronto’s imagination. The “vital core” was obviously the place to be, and solving the whole case also charmed him. “How would I set about it then?” he asked.
    “You’d better get out your pad. We’ll make a list. One, look at the church records, the local registries in Ottery itself, and see if you can pinpoint exactly where Alexander lived. Two, go there and check their parish books. Ask around for the family. Who do we know from that part of the country?” he asked, rubbing his forehead to aid his concentration. “I wish Bertie were here. Mama knows everybody.”
    “Willie Wyckerton,” Pronto said at once. “Lives in Ottery. Knows