by Joan Smith
“Cousin Edward?” Darren asked in a trembling voice. He rose, brushing dirt and grass from his trousers. “I say, I’m sorry about all the commotion. I’m in a spot of trouble. You wouldn’t happen to know a good lawyer ...”
Salverton had intended to ring a peal over Oakleigh, but when he saw the fear and shame on his youthful face, he remembered that long-ago spring of his own folly, and his heart softened. “We'll speak about this inside,” he said, and accompanied Darren to the door.
Samantha ran to greet them. She threw her arms around her brother. With tears streaming down her cheeks she said, “Darren, you gudgeon! We’ve been looking all over for you! Where have you been?”
“Sam, what are you doing here?”
“Where else should I go for help but to Edward? Are you all right?”
Edward smiled ruefully at them, then went to join Townsend.
“I will be when I’ve caught my breath,” Darren replied.
“Where have you been all these days, and what have you been doing?”
“Hiding, of course. That brute, Fletcher, has been looking for me. He’s Wanda’s husband, Sam. Can you beat that? She was married all the time. What a take-in. No wonder she wouldn’t go to Gretna Green with me.” He peered into the saloon that would have held a couple of his tenant cottages had it not been full of well-polished furniture. “I say! Cousin Edward does pretty well for himself, don’t he?”
“We should have come to him in the beginning. He’s really very nice.”
“More civil than I expected. But tell me what you’re doing here.”
“First I must let Miss Donny know we found you, I expect she’ll want to come here.”
Samantha sent the message to Upper Grosvenor Square, then she led her brother to the morning parlor. While Salverton arranged matters with Townsend, Darren and his sister brought each other up-to-date. Salverton joined them half an hour later.
“You’ll have to come down to Bow Street with us to answer some questions, Oakleigh,” he said.
“If it’s about the thousand pounds, I swear I had no notion it was stolen, Cousin.”
“It’s not about that. That charge will be dropped now that Sir Geoffrey is dead.”
“I hope they don’t think I killed him!”
“We’ll get the whole story from Fletcher. You’d best come along.”
Darren rose reluctantly and went toward the door. Salverton turned to Samantha. “You notified Miss Donny?”
“Yes, she should be here soon. Thank you, dear Edward, for everything.” She stood on her tiptoes and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.
He smiled at her, rubbing the back of his fingers along her cheek. It was a small gesture, but intimate, the sort of thing a lover might do without even realizing he was doing it. She wondered if he had ever done it to Louise.
“I’ll put in a word for Darren at Bow Street,” he said. “If we could find Wanda, it would help clear his name. About the murder, I mean. Townsend will send men out looking for her.”
“Did they not find Sir Geoffrey’s watch and ring on Fletcher?” she asked in alarm.
“No, but perhaps they’re at whatever hole he spent the night in. He’s a tough bird. The questioning will take some time. Don’t worry, my dear. Things will work out.”
“How long will you be gone?” she asked with a woebegone look.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can. You’ll stay here?”
“Yes, I’ll wait for you.”
A small, satisfied smile curved his lips. “Good.” Then he left.
Chapter Nineteen
At Berkeley Square, the ladies were served tea in the morning parlor to ease their vigil. Noon came and went and still there was no sign of Darren and Salverton returning. There was a deal of hand wringing and worrying about what would befall Darren.
“If only we could find Wanda,” Miss Donaldson said not for the first time. “She need not fear coming forward now. She could say Sir Geoffrey gave her the thousand pounds, and who is to say he didn’t, when the man’s dead.”
“We can’t ask her to lie, Miss Donny.”
“Much it would bother her. When did the hussy ever tell the truth? We don’t want any cloud hanging over Darren’s head. There will always be rumors if this matter is not cleared up.”
“I’m more concerned they’ll try to involve him in the murder. Pity they hadn’t found the watch and ring in Fletcher’s pocket. She could prove Darren was with her when Sir Geoffrey was killed. I could go and visit some of her friends. If I tell them Fletcher is arrested, they might talk to me.”
“Stay away from that crew.” After a moment’s consideration she added, “What you might do, however, is drop a line to that Liz Eaton that Wanda was so close to and ask her if she has any idea where Wanda is.”
As Samantha didn’t really want to leave the house, she wrote the note and had one of Salverton’s footmen deliver it. Another hour passed. Fresh tea and sandwiches were brought to the morning parlor. At two o’clock there was a sound at the front door. Samantha pelted into the hall just as Salverton and Darren came in. She knew by their smiles, and, of course, by Darren’s being here and not in jail, that things had gone well.
“What happened?” she asked.
“They found the watch and ring in Fletcher’s coat,” Darren said. “He had them in the pocket of his greatcoat, which he left in the hackney when he chased me. One of the Bow Street officers thought to quiz the driver. That pretty well convicts Fletcher. Townsend says they’ve got him right and tight this time. And with Sir Geoffrey dead, the other charge will be dropped, so I am free.”
“Oh, thank God!” Samantha said, and threw her arms around her brother. In an excess of relief, she also hugged Edward. His arms closed tightly around her, but as Miss Donaldson chose that moment to come into the hall, he couldn’t take full advantage of the situation.
“What news?” Miss Donaldson demanded, and was told. There were tears of joy in her eyes as they all went into the saloon to celebrate with champagne.
They were enjoying a celebratory drink when the door knocker sounded again. “That might be Liz—or even Wanda,” Samantha said. “I dropped Liz a note before I knew you had found the watch and ring, Edward. I asked her to send Wanda here if she could find her. I hope you don’t mind.”
Salverton nodded his approval. “Show the caller in here, Luten,” he said to his butler, who had come to inquire whether his lordship was “at home” to callers.
Edward looked with considerable interest to see Wanda—or even Liz, if that was who was calling. He was shocked to look up and see Lady Louise staring at him from her icy blue eyes.
“I see you’re busy, Salverton,” she said, her gaze sweeping across his company in a condemnatory way. “I should have dropped a note before calling. Did you realize the prime minister’s been trying to get hold of you? He’s awaiting some important report. I expect it was the commotion here that caused the delay. I heard from Shelburne, your neighbor, there were some strange goings-on here this morning. An arrest, was it? I hope you weren’t burgled.”
“No. Bow Street used my house as a base of operation to catch a murderer.”
Lady Louise’s pinched nostrils made clear she disapproved, but she didn’t say so. Her steely gaze turned to Samantha. “Mrs. Oakleigh, is it not? I believe we’ve met before.”
“Delighted to meet you again, Lady Louise,” Samantha lied. Lady Louise had been much on her mind the past days. Examining her now, Samantha felt she would be the worst thing that could happen to Edward. With this ice maiden by his side, he would revert to his stiff-rumped ways, and forget to enjoy life.
Miss Donaldson opened her lips to correct the impression that Sam was Mrs. Oakleigh. Seeing her, Salverton leapt into the breach.
“My manners are gone begging,” he said. “You’ve already met Mrs. Oakleigh, Louise. Allow me to present her chaperon, Miss Donaldson, and her husband, Mr. Oakleigh. I would like you all to meet Lady Louise St. John.”
Lady Louise had not the keenest nose in London, but she smelled something fishy here. Everyone in the room save herself seemed to be on nettles.
It was Miss Donaldson who said, “This is Miss Oakleigh, milady. Samantha isn’t married. She’s Darren’s sister.”
Salverton received a cool stare from Lady Louise, “Indeed!” she said.
Before she could say more, there was another clatter at the front door. The butler, knowing his lordship was “at home,” decided to show the young female in. He would not normally have admitted a female of this sort by the front door, but today was not an ordinary day. She said she had been sent for. The butler assumed she was involved in young Oakleigh’s fracas, and accompanied her to the saloon.
“Miss Claridge,” he announced.
Salverton stared at a female who could not possibly be younger than thirty-five, though a quantity of rouge and powder lent her cheeks a more youthful hue. She was attractive in a vulgar way, with flashing brown eyes and full lips. Her shapely figure was encased in a lutestring gown of peacock blue and a bonnet trimmed with enough feathers to outfit a whole aviary.
Lady Louise was beyond speech. She could only stare from this vision to Salverton’s unmarried cousin, who had certainly claimed to be married, and looking for her husband. She remembered it perfectly.
Ere long, she noticed that the female in peacock blue had every earmark of a lightskirt. She was the female who had been seen in Salverton’s carriage the night he chose to miss her dinner party! “Obviously of the muslin company” was the way Carnford had described her. “Pretty as can stare, but not quite the thing.” Salverton was trying to fool her that it was this Samantha Oakleigh, his cousin in distress, who had been with him, but she felt in her bones it had been no one else but Miss Claridge.
Wanda looked at the assembled group and said, “You wanted a word with me, Sam? Is it true Bow Street has got Fletch locked up?”
“Yes, it’s true,” Samantha said, cool as a cucumber. Lady Louise gasped and clutched at her throat. After one quick glance at her, Samantha decided against introducing Wanda to Lady Louise. Rude as it was not to, she feared it would be even ruder to do it, and might cause a heart attack besides.
“Good! That’s the last time he’ll darken my daylights,” Wanda said. “So what did you want with me?” She strolled in and took a seat across from Lady Louise.
“We hoped you might give Darren an alibi for last night,” Samantha replied. “As they already have evidence against Fletch, I daresay it won’t be necessary now. But thank you for coming.”
“I don’t mind. I’ve always wondered what these castles are like inside.” She gazed around the room.
“Mighty fine. Is that champagne?” she asked as her wandering gaze fell on the wine.
“Remiss of me. Won’t you join us, Miss Claridge?” Edward said, and poured her a glass. “I expect you and Darren would like to talk in private.” His intention was to shuffle Wanda off to another room before she became too loquacious.
“I have plenty to say!” Darren said, jumping up. “How’s your husband, Wanda?”
“You tell me,” Wanda replied, and took a sip of the wine. “You’ve seen him. I haven’t, not since they locked him up some years ago. But I’ll attend his hanging—with pleasure.”
‘‘You never told me you were married!”
“You never asked.”
“You might have mentioned it when we was on our way to Gretna Green.” Wanda shrugged. “I have nothing more to say to you,” Darren said, and turned his head aside.
The audience had been listening attentively.
“Well, that’s that,” Salverton said. His eyes were twinkling and his lips were unsteady. “May I accompany you to the door, Miss Claridge?” He put his hand in his pocket and rattled some coins enticingly. Wanda drank her wine and rose.
“Ever so nice to meet you. See you around, Sam.” She was just picking up her beaded reticule, when the door knocker sounded once more.
Running over the dramatis personae of the drama, Salverton said, “I expect that will be Jonathon.”
“Oh, dear!” Samantha said with a glance at Lady Louise.
“Mr. Sykes,” Luten announced, and Jonathon pounced into the room, smiling from ear to ear.
“They let me out of jail,” he announced. Lady Louise took one look at him and wedged herself tightly against the back of her chair. “Townsend sprung me when you sent word I was with you and Sam when old Bayne was done in, melord. Hello, Sam. This would be your little brother, the cause of all the mischief. Stay away from the muslin company, lad. You’re too young for it yet. Take it from one who knows.” As he spoke, his eyes wandered to the choice piece in the peacock suit. “Nancy! I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Lady Louise peered around for another light-skirt, but finally realized that Wanda also wore the name Nancy. Jonathon’s glance strayed often to Wanda while Salverton briefly outlined what had occurred since he and Jonathon had parted company in Tunbridge Wells.
“You’ve kept yourself busy, I must say, melord,” Jonathon said. “And handled the affair as well as I could have myself.”
“I only followed your orders,” Salverton replied. “How did things go in the roundhouse?”
Jonathon drew out a thick wad of bills. “A fair night’s work,” he said. Wanda examined the roll of money and smiled warmly at Jonathon.
Another bottle of champagne was called for and poured. Lady Louise, like one in a trance, held out her glass. She wanted to leave, but some strange fascination held her there. It was like a peek into some forbidden world. Hell, perhaps, or purgatory. And Salverton was quite at home with this motley crew. How had she been so mistaken about him?
“I’ll hobble on down to Bow Street and see if they want a statement before I run along home,” Jonathon said sometime later. “Be sure you look me up when you’re in Brighton, melord. Always ready to serve—for a price. And you, Sammy. You know who to come to if your young man cuts up on you.” He tossed a roguish grin at Salverton.
When he rose to leave, he cast a long look in Wanda’s direction in a tacit invitation to join him. She didn’t hesitate a minute before rising.
“I must be toddling along,” she said, making a showy curtsy around the room. “I don’t believe I caught your name, miss,” she said to Lady Louise, who just stared. Miss! She had never been called miss in her life. “Is she simple?” Wanda asked Salverton in a perfectly audible aside.
Salverton ignored the question. He took Wanda’s elbow, accompanied her and Jonathon out the door, and steered them into his study before leaving. He unlocked a metal box and drew out a considerable quantity of bills. “A little something for your trouble, Jonathon,” he said.
“Generous to a fault, as always.” Jonathon smiled.
Salverton handed Wanda a few bills. “My butler will find you a hackney, Miss Claridge. Most kind of you to have come.”
“Any time, milord,” Wanda said with an inviting leer.
“How did you get here, Jonathon?” Edward asked.
“I hired a gig at Newman’s for the trip to Brighton, after Townsend sprung me. I’ll drive this charming lady home. Wanda?”
“Going to Brighton, did you say?” Wanda asked.
“To check up on my business interests there. My inn—”
“Oh, my, you own an inn! I’d like to see it sometime.”
“No time like the present.”
“You don’t waste any time,” she said with a flirtatious smile.
“Time’s not for wasting,” he said, and grabbed her arm.
Salverton shook his head as they left, already halfway into negotiations for Wanda’s favors. Jonathon was right as usual. Time wasn’t for wasting. He’d wasted too long already.
When Salverton returned to the saloon, Lady Louise had recovered sufficiently to demand an explanation of these irregular goings-on. “Who w
ere those yahoos, Salverton?” she demanded.
“Jonathon Sykes is a friend; Miss Claridge was involved in the arrest that occurred this morning. You need not concern yourself about her, Louise. I doubt we’ll see her again.”
“I certainly shan’t, nor that other creature, either. I fear Papa would not like my meeting such low people. There is just one thing I should like to know before I leave. Is this young lady”—she glanced at Samantha—”married, or is she not?”
“Not at the moment,” Salverton replied. “Wanda Claridge had designs on Samantha’s brother. To be rid of her, we let on Samantha was Darren’s wife. She is, in fact, his sister.”
“I see. And why did you feel it necessary to pretend to me? I was not likely to meet Miss Claridge.”
“One never knows. You just did meet her.”
She gave him a long, searching look. “You’ve become very adept in juggling the truth, Salverton.” She rose and took her leave of the remaining company. Salverton accompanied her to the hallway.
“You’ll make a better politician than I ever thought,” she said before leaving. “I take it you won’t be attending my ball this evening?”
“I fear not. I can hardly leave my cousins alone.”
“Of course,” she said with great feeling.
“I’m sorry, Louise.”
When he opened his lips to explain, she wafted her gloved hand in dismissal and nodded to Luten. “Good-bye, Salverton,” she said in the accents of one who has narrowly escaped the gallows. Luten held the door open and she sailed out.
“Are you anticipating further callers, your lordship?” Luten inquired as he closed the door. “What I wish to ascertain is whom I should admit, and whom not?”
“I’m holding open house this morning, Luten. All comers are welcome.”
Luten bowed, to conceal the movement of his lips. Lord Salty was back! This infernal tomb was livelier than it had been in a decade.
Samantha cast a sheepish look on Salverton when he returned. “I’m sorry about Wanda’s coming, Edward,” she said. “I had no idea Lady Louise would be here.”