Testing Miss Toogood

by Stella Cameron

  Lord Nathan shook his head. He stared straight ahead at the darkness outside. “It would not have been a happy match. My fault, not hers. I wasn’t ready. Anyway, now she has her officer.”

  “When she forgets herself, she still looks at you with warmth.” Brother Juste raised his head to look at Lord Nathan. “Enough of this. We haven’t time to bicker. I must get to the Prentergasts’. And remember our understanding. As far as our routine is concerned, this is no different than any other part of the investigation. You wait with the carriage and keep out of sight. Don’t come near the house.”

  Fleur held a hand tightly over her mouth. That was Dominic. There was no Brother Juste, only Dominic wearing a monk’s habit and calling himself Brother Juste. And he had involved himself deeply in The Silken Cat intrigue. Lord Nathan went with him but only to provide transportation. If Dominic continued his reckless behavior, he could face terrible danger. He already did. She must find a way to help him.

  18

  “Aren’t you going to ask where I got this rattletrap?” Nathan said.

  “Since you’re going to tell me anyway, I might as well. Where did you get the thing?”

  Nathan pulled the collar of his greatcoat high around his neck and sunk his chin into it. Then he gave his hat a firm tug on either side and all but rammed it over his ears. “I saw it in a farmer’s field, all rusted and with a wheel missing. Bought it from him. He threw in a wheel—”

  “A different size wheel.” Dominic interrupted.

  “He threw in a wheel—which I put on myself—and he was still chuckling about cabbage-brains when I put my horse between the shafts and drove away.”

  Each time they hit a rut the cart tipped from three big wheels to Nathan’s bargain smaller one. Dominic planted his hands on the rotted plank seat and used his locked arms in an attempt to save his bruised derriere from further collisions. “Well, we’re anonymous, all right.” He grunted. “Which is a good thing. But you might have said you got an old vegetable cart that stinks of manure rather than the carriage you led me to expect.”

  “Didn’t,” Nathan said, apparently content to bump up and down throughout the not inconsiderable trek to Mayfair. “You assumed and I couldn’t bring myself to disappoint you.”

  “Olivia Prentergast may not know it, but she’s lucky that thing you once had for her fizzled.” The last thwack on the seat all but stole Dominic’s breath. “You aren’t normal. You’re never happier than when you’re making someone else suffer.”

  “Look, if you don’t like what I manage to scrounge up, you take over the job of making sure our modes of transportation change constantly. We agreed that in case someone catches sight of us coming or going, it’s important to have nondescript vehicles.”

  “Ouch! You’ve outdone yourself this time. Look, when we get to Grosvenor Street, don’t actually turn in. Wait on Charles Street and I’ll go the rest of the way on foot—if I can still walk.”

  “Thank you for telling me what I intended to do anyway,” Nathan said. He looked over his shoulder. “It’s quiet tonight. There are usually parties going late but things look buttoned up.”

  “Maybe gossip about our Silken Cat has gone farther, faster than we expected. It’s bound to create a certain panic.” Lights showed in the windows of some great houses but no revelers paraded past on the inside of those windows or swarmed at the front doors. And there was no coach activity.

  “The fires are all stoked, though,” Nathan remarked, angling his head toward spirals of inky smoke snaking out of chimneys into the purple night sky. “Dominic, five minutes and we’re there. I know that house well. I’d feel better if I was closer to you than Charles Street—”

  “No. It wouldn’t be safe.”

  “It’s not safe for you, dammit! I’ll be a shadow you don’t even see but at least I’ll be close enough if something goes wrong.”

  Dominic put a hand on his brother’s arm. “Thank you,” he said. “I think a great deal of you, but you already know that. If I thought it wise I’d accept your offer, but I don’t. We’ll stay bound to what we decided when you first asked to join me—at least for now.”

  “Whoa.” Nathan pulled up the horse. “I accept what you say but this worries me. Attempting to gain entrance to a private house at this time of night? You could be shot as an intruder.”

  Dominic jumped gracefully from the cart and went rapidly to Nathan’s side. “Since I can’t go to the front door and gain entrance as myself, I don’t have a choice. It would be wrong to know as much as I do—inadequate though it is—yet do nothing to help Olivia. Wish me well.”

  He hurried away, around the corner from Charles Street to Grosvenor Street, staying close to walls and railings in front of the handsome houses there. He already knew how he would investigate the Prentergast establishment.

  The house rose four stories from the street and a gate in shiny black railings opened onto stairs that led down to the entryway outside the kitchens.

  At the gate he pulled farther into the shadows and studied the whole house. There had been no party here tonight yet light blazed at most windows. He saw Sir Malcolm Prentergast at one window with his hands behind his back, staring out but repeatedly turning back to talk to someone.

  His instincts had been right, Dominic thought. There was trouble here.

  The gate opened smoothly. Not people to scrimp on oil for hinges, the Prentergasts. He descended to the flagstones quickly and stood with his back to the building. A sideways look into the below stairs showed utter confusion. Servants ran in to stand by a handsomely appointed home steward who pored over a diagram spread on a big table. The steward issued orders and servants, mostly flunkies in green livery, left to be replaced by others. The cook and her minions scurried and paced, their faces drawn.

  The front door opened and Dominic bent low into a black corner. At the same time carriages arrived, three of them, one after the other. Human shapes slipped silently down to the flagway and left in those coaches.

  Dominic gave a single tap on the tradesmen’s door and a man opened it, a flustered underbutler by the look of him. “What is it?” he said, ready to slam the door.

  “Have you some scraps for the Brown Monastery?” he said, keeping his voice soft. “The brothers are having a difficult time of it and my Abbot suggested the people at this house might help.”

  “Oh, what is it?” The woman he’d decided was the cook pushed the man aside and said, “What d’you want, then?” to Dominic.

  “I’m sorry to have intruded,” he said, “but the brothers are desperate for food, and—”

  She looked at him more closely and said, “Come in right now, Brother, and sit yourself down.” She closed the door behind him. “Just here out of the way. I’ll get you some things. And while you wait would you please pray for the safe return of our Miss Olivia what’s been stolen away by some ruffian.”

  “Oh, my dear lady. Of course I will.”

  He bowed his head and put his hands together in his lap.

  “She’ll not have expected to get caught sneaking off like that,” one maid said to another.

  “Caught?”

  “Don’t be daft. She’s sneaked off with that handsome officer of hers. Spending the night together, they are. I’d bet my life on it. I don’t know what all this talk about kidnapping is but I don’t believe a word of it.”

  The other girl spoke up. “We’ve been told not to say a word about any of it outside this house. We’d best be careful or we’ll lose our places.”

  The question was, Dominic thought, had Sir Malcolm taken the probable ransom demand seriously? The man was known to be hardheaded and a fighter.

  Dominic considered leaving the kitchens, shedding the habit and entering by the front door after all. He could rush in and say he’d heard a rumor Olivia was missing, then say how dangerous it would be to withhold a ransom.

  And run the risk of being identified all over London as someone who knew more about The Silken Cat’s antics
than he should.

  He saw the cook approaching, her arms filled with food. A kind soul. He knew exactly where it would be most appreciated.

  “She’s here! She’s back!” A footboy tumbled from upstairs with a big grin on his ruddy face. “Just. She’s coming up the front steps. She just—”

  Dominic didn’t wait. He accepted the food from the cook then slid out of the house and up the entryway steps. A lone figure separated from deep shadows across the way and dashed toward the only vehicle Dominic saw on Grosvenor Street. This carriage stood near a row of trees at the side of the road a good distance from the Prentergast home. Catching up the skirts of the habit, he regretfully dropped the food and ran, too. If he was heard, so be it. This could be their quarry.

  The figure jumped onto the box beside the coachman. The small carriage immediately sped away and turned left on Charles Street just before Dominic arrived at the corner. Yelling at Nathan and gesturing, he urged him to get the horse moving then jumped up beside his brother when he drew level.

  “You’ll kill yourself, blast you,” Nathan shouted.

  “Never mind that. Follow the carriage ahead. I don’t see how they’ll fail to see us but we’ve got to try to find out where they’re going. Olivia’s all right but I think The Cat had her. And I think he just watched her go into the house. He’s the one who ran to that carriage.”

  Nathan let out an oath and urged the horse on, keeping the cart close to the curb. “We could be on his blind side here,” he said.

  “If we can’t find this fancy house of his, we’ll never stop him,” Dominic said. “That’s where we have to trap him.” Minutes passed before he said, “I’m damned, I guessed right. Or I think I did. Remember I told you about the smell of chocolate? Well, he’s heading for St. James and if St. James Street is his destination we know what to expect there.”

  Nathan nodded. “We should,” he said. “White’s, Lock’s the hatters, J. Lobb the bootmakers and Wirgman’s the goldsmiths.” He leaned far forward on the seat, intent on encouraging the horse to greater effort. “Any others?”

  “Chocolate houses, you looby. And chocolate shops. And the smell of chocolate everywhere.”

  “That, too,” Nathan said. “I think they’re heading for St. James Street.”

  A blast of hope exhilarated Dominic. “Please don’t let us lose him now.”

  “You can’t confront the fellow, y’know.”

  Dominic thought about that. “You’re right. But I can come back and surprise him soon enough. For…Look, Nathan, someone fell off the box.”

  “Or was thrown off. If we stop, we’ll lose the carriage.”

  “We have to stop. He’s not moving. And now the carriage is turning onto St. James Street. At least our search is narrowed. Stop.”

  The cart still moved when Dominic leaped to the street and ran to fall on his knees by a sniffling, groaning creature inside a bundle of rags. “It’s all right,” Dominic said, not at all sure anything was all right. “We’ll help you.”

  “Get away!” A thin lad materialized with bony fists swinging. “Don’t yer touch me or I’ll beat yer t’death. On yer way.”

  Dominic grasped the boy’s shoulders firmly and waited until he stopped for breath. “We saw you fall off the coach,” he said. “Where do you hurt?”

  “Lemme go. You’ll be gettin’ me into trouble, you will.”

  “You have nothing to fear. I shall not tell anyone we met.”

  Nathan arrived and stood over them. “How badly is he hurt?”

  “I don’t know about his body, but his mouth is in perfect condition. Can you stand, Harry?”

  “I expect so.” With Dominic’s help he scrambled to his feet. Taller than expected, and perhaps thirteen or so, he saw Dominic’s habit and said, “A bloomin’ monk. Thank yer for yer trouble. I’m all right now.”

  Dominic looked at Nathan and raised his eyebrows. So this was the lad Jane Weller had spoken of. “We’ll walk with you till you get home, just to be sure you haven’t injured yourself badly.”

  The boy shrugged free and limped away without a word. Dominic and Nathan caught up and walked one on either side of him.

  Harry led them past high class shops frequented by the distinguished, coffee shops and those chocolate shops with their sweet aroma, and the occasional alley beside a great house.

  “Hey,” he said suddenly, turning to Dominic. “Why did yer call me ’arry?”

  Dominic had known doing so was risky. “Because I thought I heard someone in the carriage call your name.”

  The boy narrowed his eyes. Bruises marred his face and old blood crusted one nostril. “Well, yer wrong. And I’m not tellin’ yer me name because it’s none of yer business. Get off, both of yer.” He speeded up, shuffling as fast as he could with a limp. When he looked back, Dominic saw awful fright on the boy’s face.

  “Let him think he’s lost us,” Dominic said, falling back. When they could, he and Nathan pulled into a shop entrance where they could still watch Harry through a window, at least for a little while.

  “His name is Harry,” Nathan said. “Poor little ruffian’s terrified.”

  “He is, but he’ll lead us where we need to go. Come on or we’ll lose him.”

  They slipped onto the flagway again, just in time to see Harry duck into an alley. By the time Dominic skidded to a halt and peered down the narrow gap between two buildings, there was nobody to be seen. He signaled for Nathan to stay back and ran, crouched over, the length of the buildings.

  Something creaked open. A mews ran parallel behind the buildings and Dominic turned in the direction of the sound he’d heard—just in time to see a gate slam shut in a wooden fence.

  A tap on his shoulder all but stopped his heart. He swung around with his fists raised—and Nathan took several steps backward. “It’s just me,” he said and pointed to the gate. “He went in there.”

  Dominic didn’t trust himself to say anything so he peered through the fence slats. There was nothing to see except the back of some sort of warehouse.

  “Do you want to follow him in?” Nathan asked, without enthusiasm. “He’s obviously leading us on a merry chase but if we catch him we can try to get his trust so he’ll talk to us. He’s frightened. Why wouldn’t he want some protection?”

  “There’s no point in following him. He’ll cut back and forth until he reaches the creature’s house. He’s well away by now and he knows every inch of this place. We don’t.”

  “So we give up?

  “We never give up,” Dominic said. “We need clues and the only ones who may have them are the women who don’t want to be identified. Jane may have more to say, something she’s forgotten. And perhaps Gussy. But we need the others and we don’t even know who some of them are, or how many of them there are.” He pushed back his hood. “Hell, there may not be anyone else for all we know.”

  They walked back to the cart and Dominic half expected to find that the horse had been stolen.

  “Someone’s made off with our cart,” Nathan said. “The bounder. I hope all the wheels fall off for him.”

  “Bless him, is all I can say,” Dominic said. “Although taking that rusted trap must mean the fellow should be in an asylum.”

  The horse, his bare back gleaming, stood by a hedge chomping his way through the privet. Dominic walked directly to him, caught the trailing reins and with his habit pulled up around his waist leaped astride the animal. Nathan followed suit and they began the long ride to Heatherly.

  “All we have to do is be persistent,” Nathan said. He held on to Dominic.

  “Exactly. Persistence in all things, say I. Now, since this is a journey that has to be taken slowly, we might as well pass the time dealing with a pressing issue.”

  “I thought we were.”

  “Another issue. I saw your outrage when you thought I had forced myself on Fleur.”

  Nathan took his time before saying, “I may not be the one Mother asked to help launch the girl, but I f
eel some responsibility for her.”

  “You like her?”

  “Very much,” Nathan said. “Don’t you?”

  “She’s passable.”

  Nathan chuckled. “I suppose it’s all in the eye of the beholder. She’s obviously a handful, an independent miss with a lot of spirit, but she’s a lot more than passable. Every eye was on her at the Herberts’. She’s a looker with a brain, my boy, and a prize to be sure. Hattie called her an originale and so she is. But she’s also an incomparable. A diamond of the first water.”

  Dominic listened to Nathan extolling Fleur’s person and asked himself what he really wanted. Was he sure he wasn’t cut out to be a husband—not now and perhaps never?

  “You’re quiet,” Nathan said.

  Dominic breathed deeply and looked up at the stars. “Don’t explode until you’ve thought about it, but I think Fleur Toogood would make you a perfect wife.”

  19

  A week had passed since Fleur saw Dominic and Nathan climb inside the window seat and disappear. Their invitation to go with them to their mother’s today had surprised and pleased her.

  Who could help feeling happy in the Dowager’s brilliant sitting room early on a sunny afternoon, Fleur wondered. Then she looked at the Elliot brothers and had her answer.

  “Would you two mind settling somewhere?” the Dowager said. “What is the matter with you?”

  Dominic and Nathan sat on a pillow-strewn divan—as far from one another as possible.

  “You look well, Fleur,” the Dowager said. She reminded Fleur of an exotic butterfly, a blue-and-green butterfly all flowing and glimmering. And her turban showed off her fine features. “The air and all the walking you do must agree with you.” Lady Granville spoke to Fleur but cast repeated, irritated glances at her remote-faced sons.

  “Walking is my favorite thing,” Fleur told her. “And look at this day. This room was made for sun through its windows.”

  The Dowager smiled her pleasure. “It really is too bad that so many parties have been canceled this past week. But you did go to the Crewe-Burnses’ do, and what I understand was an intimate little gathering at Franklin Best’s. Then the Butterworths’ rout. They’re one of the few families I know of who serve excellent refreshments at such affairs.”