The offices of the Midlands Railway Development Consortium occupied a suspiciously elegant building in Cheapside. Too elegant, Margaret thought, for a company that supposedly needed investor capital to begin operations.
"Confidence," Robert murmured as they approached. "They want investors to believe they're already successful. Makes the fraud more believable."
Edward straightened his cravat, assuming the posture of a man with more money than sense. "Remember, I'm enthusiastic but slightly dim. Old family, new desperation. Exactly the sort they'd target."
"You're enjoying this far too much," Margaret observed.
"I've spent three years being perceived as a failure. Might as well profit from the reputation." He offered his arm. "Shall we, my dear? Try to look impressed by everything."
"I'll try. Though I'm naturally skeptical of gilt trim and imported carpets."
"Channel your mother. She's impressed by gilt trim."
"My mother has taste. This is ostentatious."
"Perfect. Be ostentatiously impressed."
Robert pushed open the door, and they entered a reception area that looked more like a gentleman's club than a business office. Dark wood paneling, leather chairs, oil paintings of locomotives that Margaret suspected were entirely fictional.
A clerk approached immediately, all oily solicitude. "Good morning. How may the Consortium serve you?"
"Robert Thornton, representing Lord Edward Blackwood and Lady Blackwood. We have an appointment with Mr. Grimsby regarding investment opportunities."
The clerk's expression shifted to barely concealed avarice. "Of course, of course. Lord Blackwood. We've heard such excellent things. Please, wait here. I'll inform Mr. Grimsby immediately."
After he scurried away, Edward surveyed the room. "Everything about this screams 'fraud.' How does anyone fall for it?"
"Because they want to believe," Robert said quietly. "Railways are profitable. Everyone knows someone who got rich from railway investments. The consortium preys on that desire."
A door opened, and a man emerged who could only be Grimsby. Tall, distinguished, with silver hair and the bearing of someone accustomed to being trusted. He looked, Margaret thought with dismay, entirely respectable.
"Lord Blackwood! What an honor. I'm Herbert Grimsby, director of operations." His handshake was firm, his smile warm. "And Lady Blackwood. Delighted. It's rare to see a wife take such interest in her husband's investments."
"My wife has a head for figures," Edward said with just the right note of pride mixed with condescension. "Her father's daughter, you understand. Can't help herself."
Margaret bristled genuinely, which helped sell the performance. "I simply like to understand where our money is going, Mr. Grimsby."
"Admirable, admirable. Please, come to my office. I'll show you the prospectus and our development plans."
Grimsby's office was even more ostentatious. Maps covered the walls, showing proposed railway routes through the Midlands. A scale model of a locomotive sat on his desk. Everything designed to impress, to dazzle, to prevent careful examination.
"Now then," Grimsby settled behind his desk. "Mr. Thornton tells me you're interested in joining our venture. Excellent timing. We're finalizing the investor pool this week."
"Yes, that's part of what concerns me," Margaret said, playing her role as the slightly-too-clever wife. "The timeline seems aggressive. From capital investment to construction in less than a month?"
"We've been preparing for years, Lady Blackwood. The surveys are complete, the routes approved, the equipment ordered. We simply need final capital to begin." Grimsby pulled out a leather portfolio. "Everything is documented here. Engineering reports, government approvals, testimonials from satisfied investors."
Edward leaned forward, projecting eagerness. "My father-in-law speaks very highly of the venture. William Thornton? You're working with him?"
"Indeed! Mr. Thornton is one of our anchor investors. Very shrewd man. Recognized the opportunity immediately." Grimsby's smile widened. "With the Blackwood name added to the Thornton investment, we'd be unstoppable. Old money and new, working together. The symbolism alone would attract additional capital."
"How much are you seeking from us?" Edward asked.
"Well, your father-in-law has committed two hundred thousand pounds. A similar investment from you would give you equivalent shares in the venture. Though of course, we're flexible. Even a hundred thousand would secure you significant returns."
Margaret watched Robert from the corner of her eye. He'd moved to examine the maps, his expression carefully neutral. But she saw the slight shake of his head. The maps were false.
"May I see the engineering reports?" she asked. "I'm curious about the technical specifications."
"Of course, of course." Grimsby pulled out a thick document, passing it across. "Our lead engineer, Mr. James Morrison, is one of the finest in England. Trained under Brunel himself."
Margaret flipped through the pages, noting elaborate diagrams and calculations that looked impressive but meant nothing. "These cost estimates seem quite detailed."
"We pride ourselves on thorough planning."
"Yes, I see. Though I notice the surveying costs are significantly higher than my father paid for similar work on his own railway lines." She looked up, all innocent curiosity. "Is there a reason for the discrepancy?"
Grimsby's smile never wavered. "Terrain differences, Lady Blackwood. The Midlands present unique challenges. Hills, existing settlements. Our surveys must be more comprehensive."
"Of course." Margaret set down the document. "And Mr. Morrison is available for consultation? I'd love to discuss the technical details with him."
"Ah, Mr. Morrison is currently in Birmingham, overseeing preliminary work. But I can arrange a meeting next week, after we've finalized the investment."
"After we've paid, you mean."
"After we've formalized the partnership, yes."
Edward cut in smoothly. "My wife is thorough, Grimsby. Humor her. She won't let me invest until she's satisfied every detail is legitimate."
"Perfectly understandable. A cautious investor is a wise investor." Grimsby's expression remained pleasant, but Margaret caught a flicker of something else. Calculation. "Tell me, Lord Blackwood, what's driving your interest in railways? Most of your class find trade rather... distasteful."
"Most of my class are idiots living on vanishing rents," Edward said bluntly. "I'm not fool enough to think land alone will sustain Blackwood Manor. My father nearly bankrupted us with that thinking. I married for money, Grimsby. I'm not ashamed to admit it. And now I want to make that money work."
The honesty was brilliant. Grimsby relaxed, seeing Edward as exactly what he claimed to be—a desperate aristocrat willing to invest in anything promising returns.
"Refreshing," Grimsby said. "Most of your peers pretend their new railway investments are just hobbies. You're practical. I appreciate that."
They spent another hour reviewing documents, Margaret asking pointed questions while Edward played the eager investor barely restraining his wife's caution. Robert maintained his role as the advisor, occasionally murmuring observations that sounded knowledgeable but revealed nothing.
Finally, Grimsby pulled out a contract. "If you're satisfied, Lord Blackwood, we can formalize your investment today. A hundred thousand pounds to start, with option to increase once you've seen the operation develop?"
Edward reached for the contract, and Margaret's heart jumped. They were committed now. Either their plan worked, or they were about to sign away a fortune to criminals.
"I'll need to have my solicitor review this," Edward said. "Standard practice. You understand."
"Of course. Though I must mention, we're closing the investment pool Friday. If your solicitor needs time—"
"My solicitor can work quickly when properly motivated." Edward smiled. "Thursday afternoon. I'll have an answer then."
Grimsby looked disappointed but nodded. "Thursday afternoon. I look forward to welcoming you to the Consortium, Lord Blackwood."
Outside, they walked in silence until they'd rounded the corner and were certain no one was following.
"Well?" Edward asked Robert.
"Everything's fake. The maps, the reports, the government approvals. Even the paintings in the reception area—I recognized one from a catalogue. It's a reproduction of a failed railway from the thirties."
"How can you be certain?" Margaret asked.
"Because I helped investigate a similar scheme in New York. These people use the same tactics. Impressive offices, forged documents, testimonials from investors who either don't exist or have been paid to lie." Robert's expression was grim. "If we don't stop this, they'll disappear with your father's money by the weekend."
"Then we need evidence," Edward said. "Real evidence, not just suspicions. Something we can take to the authorities."
"I can get into their offices tonight," Robert said. "Break into Grimsby's desk. Find the real documentation."
"That's illegal," Margaret pointed out.
"So is fraud. I'm choosing the lesser crime." Robert looked at Edward. "I'll need a lookout. Someone respectable enough that if we're caught, they can claim we were investigating on behalf of investors."
"I'll do it," Edward said immediately.
"Absolutely not." Margaret's voice was sharp. "If you're caught breaking into a business, your reputation is destroyed regardless of the reason. Let Robert do it alone."
"And if he's caught alone, he goes to jail. At least with me there, I can claim aristocratic confusion. Got lost looking for my club, wandered into the wrong building, that sort of nonsense."
"That's the worst lie I've ever heard."
"Which is why it might work. No one lies that badly on purpose."
Margaret wanted to argue further, but Robert cut in. "He's right, Margaret. If I'm caught alone, I'm just a thief. With Lord Blackwood, there's plausible deniability. We were checking on our investment after hours, got confused about which office, et cetera."
"This is a terrible plan."
"This entire situation is terrible," Edward said. "But we're committed now. Grimsby knows we're interested. If we back out without explanation, he'll be suspicious. Might even accelerate his timeline."
"Then we need a better plan than breaking and entering."
"Such as?"
Margaret thought rapidly. "We need someone to distract Grimsby. Keep him occupied while Robert searches the office. Someone he won't suspect."
"Who?" Robert asked.
"Me. I'll request a private meeting. Say I have concerns I don't want Edward to know about. Play the worried wife who thinks her husband is being reckless." Margaret met their skeptical expressions. "Grimsby clearly thinks I'm the cautious one. He'll believe I want to investigate further without Edward's knowledge."
"That's actually clever," Robert admitted.
"It's also dangerous," Edward said. "You'll be alone with him."
"In a public building, during business hours. He's not going to assault me in his own office." Margaret's voice was confident, even though her stomach churned at the idea. "Besides, you'll both be nearby. If anything goes wrong, you can intervene."
Edward looked unhappy, but he nodded. "Tomorrow afternoon. We'll tell Grimsby you want to discuss the investment privately. While you're meeting with him, Robert and I will search the offices for real documentation."
"And if we find evidence?"
"We take it to the authorities. Show them the fraud, stop the scheme before your father loses his fortune."
"And if we don't find evidence?"
"Then we find another way." Edward's jaw was set. "But we're not letting these criminals steal from your family."
Margaret felt a rush of affection so strong it nearly knocked her over. This man who'd married her for money three years ago was now risking his reputation to protect her father. Who'd gone from resenting William Thornton to genuinely caring about protecting him.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
"For what?"
"For caring. About Papa. About this."
Edward pulled her close, despite being on a public street. "Your father saved Blackwood Manor. Saved me, really, though I was too proud to admit it. If I can return the favor, I will."
Robert cleared his throat. "If you two are finished, we should plan tomorrow's operation. Timing is critical."
They spent the rest of the afternoon in their hotel room, plotting logistics. Margaret would arrive at three o'clock, claiming she needed to discuss concerns privately. While Grimsby was occupied with her, Robert and Edward would enter through the service entrance—Robert had already bribed a clerk for the information—and search for documentation.
"What if Grimsby doesn't believe you want to meet alone?" Robert asked.
"He will. Men like Grimsby always believe women are more cautious than men. He'll think I'm being sensible, protecting my husband from his own enthusiasm." Margaret's smile was sharp. "I'll play on his assumptions. Make him think I'm the reasonable one who can be manipulated."
"You're terrifyingly good at this," Edward observed.
"I've spent three years managing a household and an estate. Manipulation is part of the job."
That night, lying in bed with Edward's arms around her, Margaret let herself feel the fear she'd been suppressing all day.
"What if this goes wrong?" she whispered into the darkness.
"Then we improvise. We're good at improvising."
"We could be arrested. You could lose everything."
"Not everything. I'd still have you." Edward's arms tightened. "Besides, we're not going to be arrested. We're going to be brilliant and clever and save your father from his own trusting nature."
"When did you become an optimist?"
"When I married a woman who chases me to London and threatens to destroy my brother. You're a terrible influence on my previously cynical worldview."
Margaret smiled despite her anxiety. "Good. Someone needed to corrupt you."
"You've done an excellent job. I'm thoroughly corrupted." He kissed her temple. "Now sleep. Tomorrow we commit fraud investigation, and I need you sharp."
"I'm always sharp."
"True. Sharp and dangerous and entirely too attractive for my peace of mind."
"Flattery won't distract me from being terrified."
"Won't it?" His hand slid beneath her nightgown. "I could try harder."
"Edward, we should rest. Tomorrow is important."
"This is important too. Keeping my wife relaxed and focused." His fingers traced patterns on her skin. "Very important husbandly duty."
"You're obsessed with those duties."
"I'm dedicated to my responsibilities."
Margaret's laugh turned into a gasp as his hand moved higher. "That's not—we should really—oh God."
"Yes?" Edward's voice was smug. "You were saying?"
"I've forgotten. Whatever it was, it wasn't important."
"Good. Because this is very important."