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.And yet, unlike the farm, there was nothing sinister about the building.Indeed, if she hadn’t been the Royal Sorceress, she would have thought that she was imagining it.Whatever Howell did for a living, she decided as the butler took over her escort, it had to be very lucrative.His house was littered with paintings and expensive decorations, including several that would have been banned in polite company.He also seemed to have a small army of servants at his beck and call, some of whom eyed her curiously as the butler led her though the house.Gwen’s mother could not have wished for a more aristocratic house.And yet Howell was no aristocrat.Gwen was sure of that, if only because she couldn’t imagine an aristocrat with a title refusing to use it.A businessman, perhaps? It was possible, except that a businessman who had seen such great success would almost certainly be offered a knighthood, if not a peerage.The Establishment believed in trying to co-opt talent where possible, even if society’s matrons didn’t really like the idea.They’d sooner marry their daughters to Frenchmen or even Russians before letting them marry a former commoner.“The Master is in bed,” the butler informed her, as they stopped outside a heavy wooden door.“Please don’t go near the bed, Milady.You could catch his illness.”Gwen nodded, impatiently, as he opened the door and showed her into a darkened room.The only light came from a gas lantern that had been turned down low, barely giving enough light for her to see the man lying in his bed.There was a faint smell of something unpleasant in the room, reminding her of the hospitals Lucy had been setting up for the poor.She hesitated and then cleared her throat.She couldn’t help feeling guilty for disturbing a sick man.“Lady Gwendolyn,” Howell croaked.The sheets rustled as he turned to look at her.“I’m sorry not to be in a better state.”“I’m sorry to have to disturb you,” Gwen said.She was slowly becoming used to the darkness.“I can arrange a Healer to attend you, if you would wish.”“It’s just a cold,” Howell said, after a moment.He sounded rather peevish at the whole suggestion, although Gwen couldn’t understand why.“It will be gone in a few days.”Gwen peered at him.Howell didn’t look very dangerous at all, certainly not dangerous enough to scare a man who had gone tiger-hunting in India.He looked rather like a middle-aged uncle, a man secure enough in his own position to offer friendship to his nephews and nieces without reservation.His face was pleasant enough.until she saw his eyes.There was something snake-like about them that sent chills running down her spine.“I hope you will get better soon,” she said, as she gathered herself.What could he do to disconcert her? “I need to talk to you about Sir Travis.”“I assumed as much,” Howell said.“I read about his death in the paper.Terrible business, My Lady, simply terrible.”Gwen nodded in agreement.“I won’t waste your time,” she said, bluntly.“What was your business with Sir Travis?”Howell studied her for a long moment, his icy regard making her shiver again.“It was my intention to offer him a loan,” he said, finally.“We were discussing the precise terms of the loan, but failed to come to an agreement.”“A loan?” Gwen repeated.“Did he need money?”“I assume so,” Howell said, sardonically.“People do not generally try to borrow money unless they have some desperate need of it.”Gwen resisted the urge to scowl at him.His story was plausible; there were certainly no shortage of aristocrats who were rich in everything, but money.A title didn’t automatically confer wealth on its holder.And Sir Travis had not been very wealthy.Most of what he’d owned belonged to the family, rather than to him personally.He could not have sold Mortimer House without his family’s permission.She looked up at Howell and saw his eyes resting on her face.“And you,” she said, “were going to loan him the money? Is that what you do for a living?”Howell smiled, but the smile didn’t touch his eyes.“There are some.individuals who would prefer not to have to ask a bank for a loan,” he said.“Those individuals place discretion ahead of anything else, even security.They eventually come to me.”Gwen had listened to her father’s business dealings, back before Master Thomas had offered her the chance to join him
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