Chapter One

      ‘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 family jewels,’ Gregory said. Women of titled men sometimes grew so used to the baubles they wore that they thought of them as personal property and not things meant by law to be passed down the generations, from one peer to the next.

      ‘Nothing as dire as that. It seems she’s pillaged furniture, paintings and assorted bric-a-brac.’ Leggett held his hands wide to indicate the variety in the theft. ‘It is all quite random. The only record of the sales exists in her faulty memory.’

      ‘You need someone to search the Lombard merchants for the missing items.’

      ‘With a dray and draught horses if necessary. God knows how much is missing. Buy it all back at my expense,’ Leggett said, closing his eyes in resignation. ‘And finish before the arrival of the new Comstock. There are rumours of rough seas between here and Philadelphia, but weather will not forestall discovery once his man of business arrives. With two sisters yet to be married, my wife is terrified that any scandal will spoil their reputation.’

      ‘I have contacts in the industry that might help me with retrieval,’ Gregory assured him. ‘You are not the first to come to me with such a problem. Once I am on the case, it will be sorted in no time.’

      ‘But in the past, you did not have to contend with the Strickland sisters.’ Leggett gave him a rueful grimace.

      Gregory countered with what he hoped was a reassuring smile. ‘If they are named for the three theological virtues, how much trouble can they be?’

      ‘How much trouble? As much as they can manage, I suspect.’ There was something in the quirk of his lips that was not quite a smile. It spoke of bitter experience. Then, his face gentled. ‘My Faith is a continual delight, of course. But she has a will of iron.’

      ‘The shield and bulwark of the family?’

      ‘Rather,’ Leggett replied. ‘She is the eldest and used to running things. I am removing her from the equation, for my pleasure and her piece of mind. A