href="#ubc73de19-b79d-5953-89f1-059f0d7d8ddb">Dedication
‘I have a problem.’
In Gregory Drake’s experience, most conversations began with exactly those words. But that was to be expected, given the unusual nature of his profession.
Gregory fixed things.
Not in the usual sense. Watchmakers fixed watches. Tinkers mended kettles. But Gregory was not a tradesman as much as a student of human nature. He fixed lives. When members of the upper classes were confronted with a situation that was difficult, embarrassing, or simply tedious, they came to him.
He made their problems go away. Quickly, quietly and without another word.
It was why he was welcome in the reading rooms at Boodle’s and White’s and most of the other clubs in London. He could claim membership in none of them. But he was so often found in attendance at them, sharing hushed conversations with important people, that no one dared to ask the reason for his presence. Though society might see him as an underling, even its most august members kept a respectful distance from him, not wanting to embarrass their friends. More importantly, they did not want to annoy the fellow who could be counted on to rescue them when trouble arose.
Today, Gregory stretched his legs towards the fireplace to warm the January chill from his bones. Then he looked expectantly to the man in the opposite chair. ‘Does your problem involve a woman?’ Until his recent marriage, James Leggett had been a well-known rake who courted scandal almost as actively as he chased the females that embroiled him in it.
At this, Leggett laughed. ‘It involves several women. But none in the way you probably expect, given my reputation.’
‘If not an affaire de coeur, then what could it be?’
‘It concerns my wife’s family,’ Leggett said, with a sigh. ‘Lovely ladies, all. But there are far too many of them for one man to handle.’
‘That is why you are speaking to me,’ Gregory said, with an understanding nod.
‘The branches of the Strickland family tree are so full of women that it is all but dead. My darling Faith has two sisters and a grandmother.’
‘The Dowager Countess of Comstock,’ Gregory supplied, to prove he was well aware of the circumstances. ‘The Earl had no brothers and all three of his sons are dead. But, I understand the Crown has found an heir to the earldom. There is a cousin of some sort, several times removed and living in America.’
Leggett nodded. ‘This leaves the ladies in a somewhat precarious position.’
In a just society, it would not. In Gregory’s opinion, men should be required by law to make provision for the future of female relatives and property should be divided equitably amongst all siblings, regardless of sex. But no one gave a damn for the opinion of a fellow without inherited wealth, nor did it make sense to argue reform with a man who had benefitted from the current system. Instead, he described the situation at hand. ‘The last Earl left them a pittance and the ladies fear that the new one will take even that away from them.’
‘It is not as if they will starve in the streets,’ Leggett said quickly. ‘I will provide for them, if no one else shall. But they are worried. The heir has called for an audit of the entail to be completed before he arrives.’
Suddenly everything became clear. ‘I take it there might be some problems in the accounting?’
‘The Countess is a delightful woman,’ Leggett said with a smile. ‘Charming and sweet-tempered, but a trifle foolish. She could not resist keeping up the appearance of wealth where it no longer existed.’
‘She has been selling off the
