Page 96 of An Unexpected Earl

Clayton sighed patiently. “Your brother is a man so dedicated to Crown and country that he had a fellow MP arrested for corruption. Do you really think he’d come to your aid once he learns that you’ve criminally extorted a fellow peer and kidnapped Amelia Howard? That’s enough to dangle you by the neck at Newgate, don’t you think?”

Varnham paled.

“I know what you’ve done, and I promise that I’ll argue on your behalf for leniency if you cooperate and answer my questions.” He paused to let that offer settle. “What’s your connection to Scepter?”

Varnham’s eyes flared. “How do you know about Scepter?”

He certainly wasn’t gettingthatinformation. “We know that you gave Howard a list of their men to be placed into government positions. What we want to know is why.”

He laughed. “If you know about Scepter, then you know that they’ll kill me before I have the chance to swing.”

“Not if they can’t find you. I can arrange for you to be exiled. You’ll be halfway across the ocean before they realize you’ve disappeared.” Blackmail was a passive act, committed by cowards who didn’t have the courage to wage battle head-on. Clayton would have bet a thousand pounds that Varnham wouldn’t have the spine to keep his silence and go to the gallows for Scepter. “Tell me what I want to know, and I’ll take you to the Home Office tonight where you’ll be kept safe. You’ll be given a new identity, put on the first ship out of London, and Scepter won’t be able to touch you. Neither will Brandon Pearce, who’s most likely waiting outside that door right now to beat the life out of you.” He paused for emphasis. “Although I’m deeply inclined to let him.”

Varnham said nothing, but Clayton could see his thoughts churning, weighing his options and finding no means of escape except for cooperation. He finally answered, “Yes, I’m part of Scepter, and yes, we’re seditious.” His lips curled. “We’d all love nothing more than the overthrow of the British monarchy.”

Icy fingers of uneasy warning slithered up Clayton’s spine, but he kept his face inscrutable. Revolutionary groups existed in all corners of England these days, but none were as dangerous or powerful as Scepter. “Why?”

“You really have to ask? Take one look at Mad King George and his worthless spawn, and you’ll have your answer. More useless princes God never created. Especially Prinny. Fat, arrogant, pompous, disrespectful of everyone who serves this country, and just as mentally unsound as his father. A man who wastes the hard-earned money of Englishmen on palaces, food, and mistresses.”

“You’re talking like a Frenchman.”

“Not at all. The French failed in their revolution. But we’ll succeed in ours.” His eyes gleamed. “Scepter will make certain of it.”

The man certainly knew madness, all right. “Revolutions can’t be controlled.”

“Oh, but they can be.” He tilted his head, studying Clayton closely. “The Americans succeeded in casting off their monarch, while the French have been forced back under the rule of one. What was the difference in the end? It was who started the revolution. The American aristocracy—businessmen like Samuel Adams, wealthy landowners like George Washington, high-ranking political figures like Thomas Jefferson and John Adams, intellectuals like Thomas Paine—theyplanted the seeds of revolution in America and guided it through to the end.”

Varnham leaned back on his throne, pleased that he had Clayton’s close attention

“But in Paris,” he continued, “the revolution was led by a mob. The French upper class was destroyed by vindictive and jealous peasants, leaving a power vacuum in both society and government. Those few intellectuals who were left were forced to chase the mob and never gained proper control, leaving the revolution to be guided by the likes of Robespierre and Danton—part of the mob themselves, wolves who eventually devoured their own pack and helped to put not just a despotic king into power over them but an emperor.”

“And Scepter thinks it has the men in place to control a revolution?” Businessmen, wealthy landowners, high-ranking political figures…the English aristocracy. The revolution Scepter planned would be top down and not at all organic. That was why Scepter wanted its men in government positions. But turnpike trustees to lead the overthrow of a monarchy? “How?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Then you’ll swing for—”

“Ican’ttell you,” he repeated, “because I don’t know. I was the one able to blackmail Howard, so I was given a list of men to pass along to him. I don’t know what Scepter wants from them.”

“Surely you know something about their plans.”

“Generals never give their battle plan to foot soldiers.” His mouth twisted wryly. “You were a former soldier. You know that better than I.”

Clayton bit back a curse. Damn him, Varnham was right. “Then tell me who gave you that list.”

“Would you ever be disloyal to your generals?” He shook his head. “Shot in battle by the enemy, shot after battle by your own men for retreating…either way, shot dead.”

The two men stared at each other in quiet understanding. Clayton knew then that he’d get no more information from Varnham. The interrogation was over.

* * *

Several hours later, long after dawn had broken across London and the city was on the move into another morning, Lord Sidmouth, the Home Secretary, arrived at his office.

He stopped in the doorway and stared, blinking in bewilderment. “What the devil…”

Arthur Varnham, younger brother to Sir Charles Varnham, sat tied to his desk chair, gagged and wearing a red monk’s robe. Around his neck hung a handwritten sign…

Bound for Botany Bay.