Читать книгу Lord Libertine - Gail Ranstrom - Страница 10

Chapter Four

The soft click of his brother’s library door closing behind him was somehow comforting to Andrew. Being in the house he’d grown up in made him feel a part of the family again.

His brother looked up from his desk, gave him a slight smile and gestured to an overstuffed chair by a tea table.

“Pour a cup of tea, Drew. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

Tea? He glanced at the clock in one corner of the room, the swing of the heavy brass pendulum measuring the seconds. Two o’clock. He glanced at the decanters on the sideboard, then sighed, poured himself a stout cup of tea, laced it with sugar and sat to wait quietly.

Lockwood scribbled a few lines, then pushed the paper aside, stood and stretched. “Good to see you, Drew,” he said as he poured his own tea and sat across from him. “I do not run into you as much anymore.”

“You’d have to leave your house to do that, Lockwood. I gather this means you are still wallowing in wedded bliss?”

Lockwood grinned. “Have you come to mock me? Or is there another reason?”

“Wanted to know if you set Wycliffe on my heels.”

“Ah, Wycliffe.” His brother lifted his teacup and regarded him with a speculative gleam in his eyes. “No, actually. He came to me, Drew, after he’d already made up his mind. He said he was going to ask you for some help and a bit of expertise in the less-savory side of society activities. Is it any wonder your name came to his mind?”

The logic was inescapable. “I suppose not.”

“And Wycliffe said he needs discretion. Though your behavior is somewhat less than discreet, I have never known you to discuss your women or your affairs with others. I agreed that you were the ideal candidate. Do you have some objection to helping the Home Office?”

“I suppose not,” he said again, disliking his own churlish attitude. There was, in fact, not much he did like about himself these days.

“Then what is the problem?”

“I do not like having others depend upon me.”

“Drew…” Lockwood began, putting his teacup aside. “It has been a long time since the war. Do you not think it is time to talk about it? I am your brother. No matter what it is, you can trust me.”

Not with this. Never with this. “Who said it has anything to do with the war?”

“You were changed when you came home.”

“War is not an experience that leaves one untouched. If I recall, even you took a few years to put things in perspective.”

“But you were in—”

“I do not need you to remind me where and how I served. And I did not come here to talk about my service to the crown,” he interrupted. Blast! Why did Lockwood have to hound him on this? Did he think confession was good for the soul? Not in this case. Never in this case. Only Dash knew. And only because Dash had been there.

“So you just came to complain about doing something constructive?”

Andrew took his teacup to the sideboard and poured himself a glass of sherry. To hell with sobriety. “I came to ask if you set Wycliffe on me or if using me was his idea,” he reminded Lockwood. “And I need information. Do you recall a scandal that took place years ago? Before we were born? Something back in the 1760s?”

“The Hellfire Club?” Lockwood’s eyebrows rose. “The scandal that almost brought the government down?”

He nodded. “Were they Satanists?”

“They were reprobates of the worst sort, Drew. Scoundrels and wastrels to a man. They liked to think of themselves as dedicated Satanists, but they were more interested in sexual licentiousness and excess than any real worship. The pity of it was that they were men of influence, not ignorant superstitious bumpkins.”

“And what do you know of witchcraft, Lockwood?”

“I know it’s balderdash. Casting spells. Laying curses. Child’s play.”

“Some take it seriously.”

“What have you gotten into, Drew?”

He took a bracing swallow of his sherry. “Don’t know. Just that something nasty is going on right under our noses. Wycliffe suspects a cult of some sort and I am inclined to agree. But it’s not my business. I’m just to keep my eyes and ears open and report what I learn to Wycliffe.”

“Can you leave it at that?”

“Why not? You know how I dislike getting involved.”

“Because you’re here asking questions, not just keeping your eyes and ears open. The problem has engaged your interest, has it not?”

Andrew considered the question. Yes, he supposed it had. Between Wycliffe’s assignment and Lady Lace, this was turning out to be a banner season. He shrugged. “Aye,’ tis mildly interesting. More for the oddity than anything else. But do not get your hopes up, brother. One sparrow does not make a summer.”

“Ah, but I do hope that one day you will turn the corner and step back into your life.”

Andrew tossed off the last of his sherry and stood, giving Lockwood a cynical smile. “I wouldn’t take wagers on it.”

“Now you’ve engaged my interest, Drew. This is quite intriguing. Satanists, witchcraft and some sort of problem that involves the Home Office?’ Tis enough to draw me out of retirement.”

That was the last thing Andrew needed. If something should happen to Lockwood now that he had settled down and had an heir on the way… “Keep out of it, Lockwood. I can handle this without you.”

“I know you can, Drew. I’ve never known you to shy away from doing what had to be done.”

“Hate to dash your hopes, sir, but I am what I am.”

“What you are is a good man, Drew.”

He couldn’t contain his snort of laughter as he closed the library door behind him.

Martha O’Rourke waved her hand listlessly in front of her face. “Take them wherever you want, Bella, as long as you keep your eye on them.”

“Couldn’t you come, too, Mama? We will wait while you dress. The fresh air will do you good,” Bella said, without any real hope that her mother would agree.

“Fresh air? Is that what you think I need? As if that would change anything.” She dropped her hand into her lap and gathered her dressing gown tighter at the neck. She glanced at Gina and Lilly, hovering behind Bella. “You should be in proper mourning.’ Tis disrespectful of Cora to have you prancing all over London as if nothing were wrong.”

“No one is ‘prancing,’ Mama.” Well, except for her, and she was wearing proper mourning. She tried again. “Lilly and Gina have barely been out at all.”

“Nor should they be. Why, in my day, ladies did not leave the house for months. Months, Bella.”

But her mother had not allowed her that luxury. Someone had to deal with the details, and with Mama unable to cope with even the smallest matters, that task had fallen to Bella. “I…I will take Gina and Lilly to a dressmaker for mourning clothes, Mama. Will three each be enough? A walking gown, tea gown and dinner gown?”

“Yes. Yes, three each. And you too, Bella. You look absurd in my cut-downs.”

Bella glanced down at herself. Was it true? Had people been laughing behind her back? Mr. Hunter hadn’t seemed put off by her appearance, and she would imagine he’d be a severe critic. “Yes, Mama. We shall be home before tea.”

Martha collapsed against the chaise cushions again. “Mind you, do not let them out of your sight. Cora would be alive if only you’d paid attention.”

Bella winced. Guilt had become her bosom companion without Mama’s frequent reminders. She turned and followed her sisters from their mother’s private parlor.

“…wish it had been Bella,” she heard her mother tell Nancy, the maid. “Cora was always so sweet.”

The quick stab in the pit of her stomach was back again. That was happening more and more frequently these days. Tears stung the backs of her eyes and a thick lump formed in her throat. She would not cry again. She would not. Oh, but in a deep, secret part of her, Bella wished it had been her, too. Anything would be better than this constant purgatory she was living in.

“She didn’t mean it, Bella,” Gina whispered as they left the town house, Lilly trailing as she tugged at the ribbons of her bonnet.

“Yes, she did. She’d rather it had been any of us but Cora. She was always Mama’s favorite. That is why she thought she could do as she pleased. And now Mama can scarcely bear to be in the same room with me.”

“She has always been harsher with you, Bella. I think it is because you are like Papa—smarter than she, and stronger, even though you are her daughter. And yet, what would she do without you? We’d still be moldering behind closed doors after Papa’s death if you hadn’t coaxed her from her bed and pushed her back into society—and that was seven years ago!”

“What would she do without me? Why she’d have you, Gina. I fear you and I have all the sense in the family, and that Lilly and Cora…well, they were gifted with charm and beauty.”

Gina sniffed. “We are not lacking in charm or beauty. More than one lad has said so.”

“And I shall hope you will have a chance to prove that. For myself…I am only charming when it suits me. A monumental shortcoming, but there it is.”

“I have seen you charm birds from the trees, Bella.”

“When it suits me,” Bella reminded her. “I am brash and unpleasant the rest of the time.”

Gina laughed, and Lilly caught up to them as they entered the promenade beside the bridle path along the Mall. She said yet another silent prayer that no one would recognize her from her nightly excursions into the ton. She hated taking the risk, and yet there was no other way to keep her sisters occupied during the day.

A little farther along, they crossed the path and emerged on the street at their dressmaker’s shop. Madame Marie had made their presentation gowns, and now she’d make their mourning gowns.

* * *

Lockwood’s voice still ringing in his ears, Andrew had run into Daschel at Angelo’s, his fencing master’s salon. According to their tutor, he and Dash were equally matched, so they’d been paired for practice. They’d foregone masks and gloves in favor of unimpaired vision and grip. Neither of them were inclined to give quarter, so the bouts were arduous, with frequent lunges and parries.

Other students had gathered to watch them, and Dash was playing to the crowd. Truth to tell, Andrew knew his friend was a better swordsman, but he was apt to let overconfidence cloud his judgment. It was his one weakness, and one that Andrew occasionally exploited.

Daschel scored the last hit of the bout and Andrew gave him a flourishing bow. With a grin and a clap on his shoulder, Dash suggested a ride through the park before they went their separate ways. It only took them a minute to hang up their swords and collect their horses.

“Are you joining us at Bedlam tonight, Drew?” Daschel asked as they turned their mounts onto the path.

“Depends,” he hedged.

“On whether you find Lady Lace? Egads, man. If you really want her, we can arrange something.”

“Make a business agreement?”

“Or something more straightforward.”

“No. I am enjoying the chase. I cannot remember the last time I’ve had such a challenge.”

“How long do you intend to play your little game? And what if, in the meanwhile, she chooses another?” Dash asked. “I do not think you have long to claim her. In fact, I just might try my hand at capturing the lady.”

A sick feeling of jealousy settled in Andrew’s stomach, and he glanced sideways to see if his friend was jesting. There was a flicker of something he couldn’t identify in Dash’s dark eyes. Mirth? Or was it something more daring? “Are you suggesting a competition, Dash?”

“One hundred guineas to whoever beds her first.”

“Pistols at dawn first,” Andrew murmured.

Dash guffawed. “That bad, eh? Well, I suppose I must wait until you’ve finished with her, then.”

Choosing to ignore Dash’s comment, Andrew broached the subject that had been on his mind since his conversation with Lockwood. “D’you ever think of…Spain?”

Dash was silent so long that Andrew wondered if he’d heard the question. “I’ve done my damnedest to forget,” he said after a moment. “But, yes. I think of it from time to time. Why?”

“The subject came up with Lockwood earlier.”

“Is he still after you to tell him what our unit did? What we saw?”

“I think he knows. Lockwood knows everything, but he believes confession is good for the soul. What do you believe, Dash?”

“Confession? Surely—if you want to hang. But there’s no need for that.”

Andrew doubted his friend’s conclusion that there was no need for him to hang. The secret was like acid eating through what was left of his soul. His conscience was already calloused, and he feared he didn’t know right from wrong anymore. “I was in command. I should have—”

“You can’t spend your life second-guessing your decisions, Drew. For Christ’s sake! There were five of us under your comment. None of us knew what to do. You, at least, contained the situation and kept it from the reports.”

Andrew dismounted and started leading his horse. And remembering. Of the six of them assigned to covert duty, only he and Dash were left. Three had been killed in Spain, and Richard Farron had been killed in a duel within a week of his return to England. Richard had been hell-bound for destruction. And there were still days when Andrew wondered why he and Dash hadn’t met a similar fate.

“I will never tell. You have my word upon that, Drew.” Dash dismounted and joined Andrew.

“And I appreciate your loyalty, but I’ve increasingly begun to wonder if Lockwood isn’t right. The worst that could happen is that I’d hang. And some days that prospect does not trouble me at all.’ Tis probably what I deserve. It is only the thought of what the scandal would do to my family that has kept me silent this long. God knows the world does not have much to offer anymore.”

“Stay a little longer.” Dash grinned. “I swear, we shall find something to perk you up. I know of things I think I could…interest you in, but I’ve feared you might balk.”

Andrew laughed and shook his head. He knew Dash through and through. He was every bit as much a rake as Andrew, but he had a slightly keener edge—hence the excursion to Bedlam. Was the invitation to Bedlam a test of his stomach for such things?

Dash glanced ahead and narrowed his eyes. “Say, there! Is that not Charlie and Jamie coming our way?”

Drew would not be surprised to find his brothers on Rotten Row on a fine afternoon. He followed the direction of Dash’s pointing finger and grinned. James caught sight of them first and rode for them at breakneck speed. He and Charles reined in, stopping barely a foot from Andrew’s right boot.

“Well met!” Charlie laughed as they dismounted. “We were hoping to find you, Drew. Jamie and I are looking for trouble tonight. What do you recommend?”

Andrew grinned at Dash. “There’s to be an expedition to Bedlam tonight. Fancy a trip into madness?”

Jamie looked interested but Charlie frowned. “What? Do they lock you up with the inmates so you can play at being mad?”

“I rather think they make sport of them, Charlie,” Jamie said. “And who’s to say we’re not as mad as them?”

“Make sport of the unfortunates? But what is sporting about that?”

Dash grinned. “Observation of human nature can be enlightening, Charlie. Indeed, we can learn much from them. They have so few…inhibitions. I warrant their actions sometimes make more sense than ours.”

Charlie gave them an uncertain grin, and Andrew knew his wayward brothers would be going to Bedlam tonight. He supposed he’d have to go along to keep an eye on them, though it was not their first venture into the seamy side of London.

“Look smart, fellows! Here come those new bits o’ muslin we saw earlier,” Jamie said. “Come to town for the season, no doubt.”

“Wish we could get an introduction,” Charlie agreed as his gaze fixed on a point behind Andrew. “I’d be pleased to know any of them, but especially the one with dark hair and fine eyes. The taller one.”

Andrew turned to see three women coming along the walking path. He recognized one immediately—Lady Lace, dressed in her signature black. How interesting to see her by daylight. They were all carrying bandboxes and talking quietly.

Lace smiled at something the taller girl said and looked up. Her eyes met his, and she stiffened and quickened her pace as she recognized him. Why, she intended to give him the cut! How amusing.

He stepped out of his group, nearly in their path, and removed his hat, impossible to ignore now. “Madame,” he said with a sharp bow.

A flash of panic lit those lovely hazel eyes, a bit more greenish in the light of day. Her full lips parted and he could see she was struggling for composure as her cheeks tinted a delicate rose. What was wrong with her? He’d seen none of this girlishness before.

He thought for a moment that she would step around him and ignore him altogether, but her quick sideways glance at her companions told him that she was more worried about what they would think than about giving him the cut direct. Interesting.

“M-Mr. Hunter,” she acknowledged reluctantly.

He could feel his brothers at his back and knew they would never let the ladies escape without an introduction. “Allow me to introduce my companions.” He stood aside to indicate each of them in turn, now with their hats in their hands. “My brothers, James and Charles Hunter, and my friend, Bryon Daschel, Lord Humphries.”

The ladies inclined their heads with a slight nod at each introduction and murmured polite responses. Andrew studied them. The taller dark one, as Charles had called her, was lovely and lush looking and bore a faint family resemblance to Lace. His experienced eye detected a sensual nature to that one. The other, slightly younger by the look of her, was fair with sparkling blue eyes. She was, as yet, unformed in her nature and he thought she could go either way—soft and compliant or demanding and imperious.

“A fine day for a walk, is it not?” Dash commented, filling the awkward silence that should have been filled with Lace’s introductions of her companions.

“Yes, a lovely day,” she conceded.

“Have you been shopping?” Jamie asked with a glance at their bandboxes.

The younger one answered with a flirtatious smile. “Bella thought we could use the outing. I vow, I feel better already.”

Bella? Ah, so Lady Lace was actually “Bella.” Was that a pet name, shortened from a longer name, or her actual given name? Her dark brows drew together as she shot the younger girl a quelling look.

Jamie glanced around at their surroundings. “Fresh air is good for the constitution, I am told.”

“Do you walk here often?” Charlie asked the taller one.

She shot a sideways glance at “Bella.” “Not as often as we wish, sir. But we make do.”

Jamie fiddled with the rim of his hat. “If the exercise is too demanding for you, I’d be happy to make a loan of my cabriolet.”

Andrew frowned. That was going a little too far for a covey of women whose names they still didn’t know. And that fact was still the most disconcerting of all. He glanced pointedly at “Bella.”

“We have been gone overlong, Mr. Hunter. I am certain you will excuse us. We really must be getting back.”

“May we escort you?” Though he knew she’d refuse, just as she’d refused to introduce her companions, he asked just to annoy her. She really was lovely when she had her ire up. Ah, and there it was, the deepening flush tinting her cheeks with indignation.

“No!” She paused and took a deep breath. “I mean, thank you, but no. It is not far and we would not want to interrupt your ride.”

He’d almost forgotten the horses. “Perhaps we shall meet again,” he said. “Soon.”

Her eyes widened and she glanced at her companions once more, then pushed them ahead of her with a hand on the small of the younger girl’s back.

They watched the ladies’ departure, appreciating the sway of their skirts as they hustled away.

Dash was the first to speak, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth as he glanced skyward. “I say! Is it snowing? I feel a decided chill.”

“Gads!” Charlie glanced at their departing backs and then at Drew. “She appears not to like you much.’ Tis one thing to cut you, and another to cut the rest of us.”

Jamie chuckled. “There you have it—the very reason we should learn manners, Charlie. We never want a beautiful woman finding us unworthy of a common introduction. Or judging our companions by our own bad behavior.”

Despite their words, Andrew’s companions burst out laughing at his discomfort. Bella would pay for this. Oh, so sweetly.

Dash glanced between Bella’s stiff back and Andrew’s own bemusement. “What did you do to her, Drew?”

“Nothing,” he said. “Yet.”