“You know I cannot tell you until I’ve verified that it is well and good to do so,” she replied quickly, still studying the parchment as if looking for more clues.

“What if it’s that very man?”

A low laugh left her. “It’s not him. He has too much to lose.”

Valentine’s mind ticked over. That ruled out the queen. Bronwyn had said he. Though Her Majesty wasn’t known for involving herself in clandestine surveillance affairs, the queen had used the War Office for her own ends in the past, especially when she wanted eyes on her own people. He should know—she’d once used him to spy on Palmerston, early in the prime minister’s career. It was in the interest of protecting England, she’d claimed, but he guessed that the queen had wanted to make sure she could keep the charismatic, shrewd politician on her own leash.

“We should pay them,” he said.

Flashing blue eyes met his as Bronwyn whirled, outrage written all over her. “No! I won’t give one cent to someone who hopes to use my situation for financial gain. Extortion is the most cowardly of acts.”

“Or a desperate one,” Valentine countered.

“Thornbury has a point,” her brother said. “We could leave the money as indicated. It is the least problematic route.”

Valentine walked over to where Bronwyn stood and reached for the correspondence. When she handed it over, he scrutinized it. There was nothing remarkable about the paper or the hand. The sender’s penmanship was neat and precise, so it could be a man or a woman, and the word choice suggested a person of skill and education. Definitely not a servant, if he had to guess, even if they’d paid someone to write it.

Dear Lady B, I know who you are.

If you would like to see your identity as the Kestrel remain a secret and not shared with the gossip rags, jeopardizing both the future prospects of your younger sister and your brother’s reputation as duke, you will comply forthwith.

Leave the sum of one thousand pounds in the decorative urn beside the jasmine trellis a fortnight hence.

Yours, a most avid friend.

“Hardly a friend,” he muttered. “This is someone who knows your residence. Are you familiar with the urn in question?” When they both nodded, Valentine pursed his lips. “If I had to hazard a guess, I would also say that this person knows your family. He or she knows you have a younger sister and that you recently came into the fold as the Duke of Ashvale.”

Ashvale nodded. “They could be using her to discredit me. The extortion must be the start of it. There’s no guarantee that they won’t ask for more, or go to someone with deep pockets who wishes to see me deposed.”

“Exactly!” Bronwyn exclaimed. “So why pay them?”

“To ferret them out,” Valentine said.