Beyond Rubies (Daughters of Sin Book 4)

by Beverley Oakley

  He was certain he could offer her everything, and more, that Lord Nash purported to offer her. If she became his mistress, Silverton would not put her out to pasture when her youth and beauty faded, as he was sure Nash would. No, Silverton could see himself enjoying her company through all the trials and tribulations of life. He would be as loyal and attentive as any husband. He just couldn’t marry her.

  After dinner with some friends at a chop house in Soho, he carried on alone to No. 10 St James Square, a snug gaming hall humorously known as the Pigeon Hole where he was to meet Debenham and Smythe.

  Debenham, who was in the midst of casting the dice in a game of Hazard, hailed Silverton when he happened to glance up and see his colleague framed in the doorway.

  Initially, Silverton had cultivated Debenham’s acquaintance at the request of his old university friend Sir William Keane, though Silverton and Debenham had known one another for many years.

  When Sir William, who was then working for the Foreign Office, had outlined to Silverton the suspicion that Debenham had been involved in a plot to assassinate a member of Cabinet, Silverton had agreed to reporting on Debenham’s activities.

  He was well aware of the unsavory proclivities of the man sometimes referred to as the ‘villainous viscount’. Women, cockfighting, and other forms of gaming were his popular pastimes and one evening, after Debenham had suffered more than unusually severe gaming losses, Silverton had taken advantage of an opportunity to save him from pecuniary embarrassment. Debenham had eventually settled, but Silverton gained the impression that contrary to appearances, Debenham was in more dire financial difficulties than was suspected.

  All the more reason to watch him, Sir William had said, on the eve of his departure to Constantinople with his mistress, the delectable Mrs. Crossing whose defection from her husband had sent shockwaves through the ton. Silverton didn’t wonder she’d made good her escape while she could. Crossing was a renowned thug.

  As was Debenham, but Debenham managed matters with more aplomb and, with a title and connections, he’d so far slid out of every difficulty with insufficient evidence to convict him of anything. A letter, purportedly written by his cousin—Sir Aubrey’s late wife—accusing Debenham of being the ringleader of a plot to assassinate Castlereagh, was not enough, on its own, to see Debenham arraigned. As the writer had taken her own life within minutes of penning the damning charge, she was considered clearly not of sound mind.

  But Sir William had heard whispers of a multitude of associations with men suspected of radical leanings—Lord Smythe and the shoemaker, Buzby who was suspected of racketeering and counterfeiting.

  Now, as Silverton advanced toward Debenham, who was clad entirely in black relieved only by his snowy white cravat, he thought wistfully of a comfortable feather bed with crisp white linen, occupied by Miss Kitty La Bijou. Perhaps if he’d pressed his advantage when she was more vulnerable and thus susceptible to his overtures, that’s what he could look forward to tonight. But then he berated himself with the knowledge that this was the way Debenham worked. Rumors abounded that Debenham had seduced and tricked his viscountess, the lovely and lively Miss Partington that was—into marriage. Clearly, she’d succumbed to his overtures when she was particularly vulnerable.

  That wasn’t to say Miss Partington had an unblemished reputation. Maybe Debenham had been her only option. Still, Debenham’s method of pressing her to the altar had disgusted Silverton. Blackmail was what he’d used to seduce her and give her no option but to say what he needed her say after a sketch had been drawn showing Debenham in company with Lord Smythe and Buzby; damning evidence of collusion between three suspected radicals who claimed they did not know one another. Then the indicting sketch had mysteriously been replaced with a sketch in which Debenham had been substituted for Sir Aubrey, as if painting him as a co-conspirator, while Debenham had then produced Miss Partington, who’d sworn under oath she’d been with Debenham all night. As Miss Partington had already been caught en flagrante with Lord Debenham at Miss Hosking’s betrothal ball, it was not surprising their wedding had followed shortly afterward.

  Silverton did not know the identity of the artist, but had heard it was a woman who was assisting them with their investigation into whether Debenham had been involved in the Castlereagh Affair, and, more lately, was involved in some secret matter involving a member of the royal family. Though referred to as Lady C, Silverton believed Debenham was engaged in a plot involving Princess Caroline, the Prince Regency’s estranged wife. Beyond that, Silverton knew little, but he’d pledged to supply an inventory on the company Debenham kept, and the haunts to which he gravitated.

  “Feeling lucky?” Debenham stepped aside to let Silverton play, and Silverton sensed the tension in the man. He could smell the brandy on his breath, and suspected Debenham had already lost a great deal tonight. Clearly, he was in his cups, which might make him less cautious than he usually was.

  “After you. One more throw. A lucky one.”

  Obediently, Debenham rolled the dice, and his fortune turned.

  Silverton knew there were advantages to seeing Debenham get in deeper, bailing him out, and thus perhaps being in a position to see the man compromised, or, in fact, being the recipient of Debenham’s drunken confidences, but he felt sorry for his wife.

  As he watched Debenham rake in his winnings, he said to him over his shoulder, “Why not go home while you’re ahead? Lady Debenham will be pleased to see your pockets lined with gold tonight.”

  Debenham waved him away. “Lady Debenham is in the country dutifully delivering my heir. There’s no one to rein in my good fortune. Methinks I’ll throw again.”

  So the tone was set, and another two hours at the Pigeon Hole saw Debenham win a small fortune only to lose it again before a bottle of Madeira had him suggesting Silverton accompany him to Maggie Montgomery’s.

  Silverton shook his head. “Not tonight. I’ve business to attend to in the morning and, like you, I’ve already lost quite enough. I’m sure Smythe will go with you.”

  It had been an unsatisfactory evening, he thought. If Debenham had invited him to a tavern where they might have talked, he’d have gone. But the last thing he felt like was a nunnery where there was every chance he might be recognized, or even greeted by young Dorcas.

  No, Maggie Montgomery’s and, in fact, brothels in general made him feel ill.

  But Debenham was not to be denied. “An hour’s bedroom sport at Maggie’s, and then a chop house to round off the evening. Surely you couldn’t think of anything better, Silverton? Come! I won’t take no for an answer.”

  Silverton went, but not to take advantage of the bedroom sport.

  As he and Debenham were ushered into the reception room at Maggie’s, which was lined with crimson paper upon the walls, gold trimmings, and tasseled ruby velvet curtains, he was discomposed to discover Lord Anstey sipping port with a buxom blonde in a dimly-lit corner.

  As Anstey was the husband of the discontented Lady Anstey, with whom Silverton had enjoyed an initially torrid but ultimately lackluster affair the previous year, he had no appetite to converse with the gentleman whose failings Lady Anstey had outlined to him in such minute detail.

  Hoping to slip away unnoticed once he saw Debenham engaged by a red-headed beauty, Silverton decided on impulse to seek an interview with the venerable Madame Abbess, and was soon sipping absinthe in her private parlor, and wondering why he hadn’t chosen this path before.

  A large painting of the Prince Regent hung on the wall behind her, flanked by various heroes, including the late Vice Admiral Horatio Lord Nelson, who’d achieved legendary status among the populace during his final victory at the Battle of Trafalgar, but who was a hero in Kitty’s eyes, he recalled, for other reasons. Lord Nelson had also achieved fame and notoriety for his affair with the low-born Emma Hamilton, who’d been elevated to the peerage through her marriage to Lord Hamilton, British Envoy to Naples before she’d been swept away by the heroic charms of Lord
Nelson.

  He sighed to think that Kitty’s dream of similar elevation or as she termed it, simple respectability through marriage, to Lord Nash, was only a pipe dream. Nash would tire of her, and then Silverton would be waiting to restore her faith in men. It was the best he could hope for, he thought dismally, as the over-nourished, beady-eyed Maggie Montgomery thrust out her ample bosom and simpered above her raised glass. “What a great pleasure to enjoy your patronage, Lord Silverton. You are not a regular, and I’m wondering if you are perhaps here to suggest a certain entertainment we fail to provide you.” She patted what he was certain was a red, squirrel hairpiece above her right temple, and Silverton felt a nudge of disgust at her suggestive smile.

  The girls at Maggie’s were known for their broad repertoire. Debenham had told him of the enjoyment he had had with blindfolds and leather whips in the soundproof basement, and immediately Silverton’s thoughts had turned to innocent Dorcas. He was relieved when Debenham said it was only the bolder girls who were paid more.

  “No, Mrs. Montgomery, it is, in fact, my desire to know the price of breaking a girl’s contract. There is one in particular I should take away from here and to set up.”

  “Oh my, Lord Silverton, you are full of surprises. We hardly see you here, and next thing you want the full package. Which girl do you want?”

  “Dorcas.”

  “Dorcas!” Clearly, she was much astonished. She clasped her jeweled-ring-encrusted fingers, her expression suggesting surprise had got the better of her.

  “Yes, you surely must have a figure to hand you can name?” Silverton prodded.

  Mrs. Montgomery smiled unctuously. “I shall be delighted to come up with one, my Lord, once I’ve ascertained from Dorcas her eagerness in being set up with you.” Her smile became playful. “After all, my girls’ happiness is my chief concern.”

  Disappointed at the lack of progress, Silverton rose. He felt it best not to press her, and bowed from the doorway. “In that case, I look forward to hearing back from you, Mrs. Montgomery. Perhaps you’d be good enough to communicate your response by messenger tomorrow.”

  “Oh, I am sure we can find a price that is quite acceptable to all parties,” she assured him.

  “I do hope so, Madam.” He’d not wanted to appear too eager, having no doubt Mrs. Montgomery knew how to exact her pound of flesh. While Silverton was prepared to pay a good deal to secure the happiness of the lovely Kitty, if it aided his chances of winning more than just her gratitude some day, he also didn’t want to be taken for a mug.

  He did not see Lord Debenham pause at the end of the corridor, and his thoughtful look as Silverton disappeared before he, too, rapped softly upon Mrs. Montgomery’s door.

  And he was greatly dismayed—and, quite frankly, astonished—to receive a missive from Mrs. Montgomery expressing regret that Dorcas was too happy in her current situation to wish to avail herself of Lord Silverton’s kind offer.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Araminta farewelled Teddy with real tears in her eyes, but with a heart full of hope that everything she could ever desire would be attained through his good offices. Only he held the key to her happiness. She knew this now, just as she knew it was too dangerous to allow him to prolong his stay, even if it was balm to her soul to feel his adoring gaze upon her.

  The temptation to let him hold her, in passionate despair that he had lost her to Debenham, might result in discovery, but denial now might augment her rewards later. Araminta fully intended to milk his ardor when the time was right.

  But the time was not yet right, and Araminta, left alone at The Grange, railed in frustration. At least Teddy could return to London and do what she’d entreated him so artfully to do for her. Meanwhile, she’d just received a note from Mrs. Mobbs that she and her ‘young lady’ had taken up residence with the nearby kindly farmer and his wife, and that the midwife had given a good report on the health of the mother-to-be. Araminta simply had to orchestrate a means of leaving the house at the right time on some worthy mission, attended by Jane in the carriage.

  Any day now, she was told. Any minute, which Jane now backed up, coming into the room with a cheery, “Not much longa ter ‘ave ter wait, starin’ at sunrises and sunsets an’ waitin’ for summat to ‘appen,” Jane remarked, coming into the room as Araminta, with her elbows on the windowsill, sadly gazed at the last of the riders as they disappeared over the hill. “Reckon poor Lord Ludbridge will miss yer. Pity yer didn’t marry ‘im. ‘E’d a bin a good ‘usband.”

  “I would have married him if he hadn’t had such a lofty sense of right and wrong.” Araminta dragged her gaze from the window and looked at her maid. “Well, he can put that to good use now and do what’s right by me, finally.” She dabbed at her eyes. “Consider yourself lucky, for you’d not have had Jem working in the same household if I’d married Lord Ludbridge.”

  “True, m’lady.”

  Araminta raised an eyebrow. “That was a forlorn response. Things not going so well between you and Jem?” It didn’t surprise her. Jane was as plain as a pikestaff, while Jem was a dashing and extremely handsome valet not to mention an extraordinarily good kisser, as Araminta had been forced to find out in order to lay claim to the letter that had incriminated Debenham before she’d burned it that fateful night at Vauxhall Gardens. Well, she’d been so sure she’d burned it, but now Teddy was on the case to find out and help her, if necessary.

  “I ‘ ardly seen ’ im, m’lady since I bin wiv yer an’, o’course, ‘e’s bin wiv Lord Debenham, an’ yer two ain’t seen one anuvver fer an awful long time.”

  “Well, that’s not my fault.” Araminta ran her hand over her detested bulge. “When will Mrs. Mobbs tell me my time has come?” she asked, longingly. “Honestly, I can’t bear another day of this. I will simply go quite stark raving mad.” Then she clapped her hands, pleasure wiping away her discontent. “Lord Ludbridge will be back in London in a fortnight after he’s visited his mother up north. Isn’t that wonderful timing, Jane?”

  “Fer wot, m’lady?” Jane raised her head from tidying the various items of clothing she’d discarded about the room, and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Araminta found the sight of her rough nails nibbled to the quick suddenly irritating.

  “Wipe that miserable expression off your face, Jane, and be happy for me for a change. You have to admit, I’ve suffered terribly from the day Hetty eloped with Sir Aubrey, and you don’t see me inflicting my misery on all those around me. You’ll see Jem soon enough. As for me, I make plans to improve my lot and don’t just wait for events to happen. Now, please lay out my jonquil walking dress and pelisse. I think I shall go for a gentle stroll. That may help to ‘bring on’ this detested child.”

  As it turned out, within minutes of this declaration Araminta was flying to her closet to choose a Pomona green traveling gown, while thinking of how she might find an excuse for a hasty carriage ride instead of a walk. For word had just arrived from Mrs. Mobbs that her child had been born.

  Hurrying into the drawing room, she tried to hide her excitement as her mother and sister looked up from their embroidery.

  “Mama, I wish to take the carriage to visit the poor.”

  Lady Partington looked startled, while Hetty gasped, “When have you ever visited the poor, Araminta? And why now? It’s nearly dinner.”

  “It’s hours until dinner, and I’ve no reason to change since I can barely fit into anything, so I hope Papa understands that.”

  “My dear Araminta, you are overset. This is not a moment to go dashing out upon a wild whim.” Her mama rose and came toward her, smiling her characteristic serene smile which set Araminta’s teeth on edge, since it was a sign her mama intended to thwart her.

  “Yes, the poor? That’s the wildest whim I ever heard.” Hetty looked like she was struggling not to laugh, which made Araminta angrier and more determined than ever.

  She stood her ground, clenching her fists as she tried not to clench her teeth. “There happens to
be a family I have befriended. A very...worthy farmer whose child ran beneath my carriage wheels just before I arrived here. I was...” she struggled for inspiration “...shocked I had nearly killed the child, and have checked several times to ensure his injured leg is mending. And now I am so restless and feel my time so near, I simply have to get out of the house and make this short visit.”

  “All the more reason to stay comfortably here.” Her mother was relying on very clearly underhanded soothing methods to try and thwart her. “You are far too advanced to be taking such chances, Araminta. Now do sit down and join Hetty and me. We were having such a lovely coze. You’ve kept far too much to yourself, lately. We miss your company, darling.”

  Araminta shook her head stubbornly. “Jane will come with me. I’ll be gone under an hour. I just need a little fresh air and to get out of the house. Surely you can understand that?”

  Her mother gave a little sigh. “You are so determined sometimes, Araminta, and I do worry about you. What if Hetty and I accompanied you? Wouldn’t that be nice? Just the three of us going for a gentle carriage ride?”

  Araminta glanced, panicked, from her mother’s gently urging smile to Hetty’s more speculative one. “You and Hetty are not dressed for it. I am. See! In my traveling gown, and far too impatient to wait for you to change. I’ve asked John to bring the carriage around. I’ll take Jane with me and...if you are so insistent, I’ll return to collect you in half an hour if you still wish to accompany me, though I’ll probably be wanting to come back by then, anyway.”

  Her mother glanced at her youngest daughter. “Would you like to go for a ride, Hetty?”

  “Lord, no. I’m far too uncomfortable to want to do anything, and I wonder that you’re so...sprightly, Araminta.”

  Araminta turned back toward the corridor. “I’ll be gone such a little while,” she said, ignoring Hetty. “Don’t trouble yourself, Mama. Come along, Jane. I just need to breathe in a little fresh air, and then I’ll be back to my usual easy self.”