Flame of Fury

by Sharon Green

  "The poor thing," Rianne murmured, using her own fan more gently. "Imagine needing to accompany that sort of relative to a place like this. He must be the oldest man in the room."

  "I daresay we do have rather a young crowd," Arthur agreed with a thoughtful look. "When one reaches a certain point in life, one takes one's socializing elsewhere. Alicia quite prefers it that way, as men of her own age hold no interest for her. She's fond of saying the Compte de Verre, her late husband, selfishly used all the years of her girlhood before having the grace to die. Since he left her disgustingly wealthy, she now uses his money to buy back those years. She won't enjoy seeing who Lydia brought - a man, by the way, who is not any relative of hers."

  "Then who in the world is he?" Rianne asked with brows raised in carefully drawn shock, inwardly holding her breath.

  "His name, as I understand it, is something like Tremont, Tremar, or something like that," Arthur replied, making the chance a certainty. "He's supposed to be something or other in business, with no family to speak of but a well-bulging purse. Lydia has … too great an interest in gaming, and her allowance is usually gone even before it comes to her. She was into almost everyone in the crowd, if not due to losses, then due to loans. One or two of them were seriously considering going to her father, who believes she's carefully looking around for the best marriage and knows nothing of her gaming excesses. Then, two days ago, she paid everyone off."

  "Let me guess," Rianne said with a sigh. "That was the day the comptesse returned from Paris and decided to hold a party. But what can he possibly think his money has bought him? He looks like a stable man dressed in his very young master's castoffs."

  "I'd wager he's trying to appear young and dashing like the rest of us," Arthur said with a self-deprecating chuckle. "And from the way Lydia looks, he must be demanding that she introduce him around. She knows well enough that the word about him has spread, and probably never dreamed that he would want to do more than stand and stare. She's as competent at judging people as she is at gaming."

  "I wonder what it would be like to meet him," Rianne mused, working very hard to make it sound as though she contemplated daring mischief. "It would have to be under nothing but my married name, of course. If he ever found out I was someone, I'd probably never be rid of him. Even people who are supposedly well-bred tend to gush when they learn about my mother's family. Thank God no one's done it here."

  "Those of us prone to gushing have learned to do so inwardly with this group," Arthur replied with a laugh. "With so much of the cream showing up under pseudonyms, it's hardly polite to do anything else. I say, I just had a splendid idea. With so many intruders here tonight, why don't we introduce them all to each other? We'd first point them out to each other as dukes and princes and such in disguise, then make sure they understand one never mentions anyone's true identity. Then they could gush at each other, and leave the rest of us free to enjoy the party."

  "That, Arthur, would be terribly wicked," Rianne said with mock reproach before suddenly laughing. "Clever and rather fitting, but terribly wicked. Sometimes I feel desperately sorry for all those poor souls who spend their lives wishing they were someone else, instead of enjoying who they are. You enjoy who you are, don't you?"

  "Yes, indeed, but I'm someone who it's certainly worth being," he responded, looking off into the distance. "If I were someone else entirely, someone who had to make his own way… The thought is unsettling, possibly even frightening. Your husband is envied more than respected by the rest of us, you know. The mark he made is his own, without his father's name and position. He may have been advanced his start-up capital, but even with it the rest of us aren't certain we could have done as well. Not nearly as well…"

  His voice trailed off as the ghost of self-doubt came haunting, making Rianne sorry she'd asked the question. Doubting yourself occasionally is natural, but living with the belief that you would probably be a failure on your own… She couldn't help shivering, then quickly and deliberately changed the subject.

  "I don't know about anyone else, but I think I'd like to be introduced to Miss Worden," she stated with an air of decision. "The poor thing looks miserable standing all alone, and will surely be grateful for the company. If you introduce yourself simply as Pinky Sedgwick rather than as Arthur Sedgwick who will be a baron, there shouldn't be any difficulty."

  "Dear lady, your wish is my command," he replied, taking a deep breath to banish the heavy mood. "And poor Lydia does took like she could use a hand. Allow me to escort you over there."

  His short bow was wryly amused, and it gave Rianne the chance to glance over her shoulder. She'd thought Machlin was still as close to them as he'd been at first, but her glance showed he'd been stopped by a group of people at least ten feet away. One of the men in the group was talking to him, and the way he made no effort to escape the conversation said it was probably important.

  Which meant he had no idea Rianne was about to be introduced to the person they'd come here looking for. As Arthur led her forward, she felt the urge to bite her lip. Machlin would certainly be annoyed with her for not calling him, but what choice did she have?

  Since the answer was none, she was able to relax and smile. The music was lovely, and after their business was taken care of they should even have the time to dance. She would explain it all to him then, while he held her in his arms, and he would have to agree she'd had no choice…

  "Machlin," Bryan heard as he followed a short distance behind his wife and Pinky. "Just the man I really need to see."

  Bryan glanced around to find Robert Creighton calling to him, a smile on the young Lord Redstone's face. Robert and Bryan's brother Richard were good friends, just as their fathers had been before Robert's father's recent death. Bryan didn't care to be distracted from his reason for being here at the party, but he had no real choice about responding. He had his family to consider, and the conversation shouldn't take very long at all.

  "Robert, it's good to see you again," Bryan said with a smile as he approached and offered his hand. "How is your mother doing?"

  "She's doing quite well, actually," Robert responded with his own smile as he took Bryan's hand. Being two years the elder had never shown in Robert before his father's death, but now Bryan could see a certain maturity in the plain but pleasant features. "Mother believes that she and Father will be together again one day, so she's perfectly content to wait until then for him to come for her. She still has tea with her friends every day, and discusses what to wear when the time comes."

  "That's a belief I think we'd all like to share," Bryan said, nodding to the others around Robert. "I'd love to stand and chat, but I'm afraid this isn't the best time. Can we sit down together a bit later, possibly in the smoking room? I have some news you're certain to enjoy hearing - "

  "Won't be possible, old chum," Robert interrupted, his smile turning wry. "I'll only be here long enough to bid adieu to the crowd, and give my respects to Alicia. The time has come to settle down to responsibility, which means I shan't be by again. And that, by the bye, is the reason I need to talk to you. I may soon require the services of some trustworthy men who are also capable. Who else would I turn to but you to supply them?"

  "I would, of course, be honored, my friend," Bryan answered with true warmth. "The only thing is - "

  "Come and walk with me for a moment," Robert urged, putting an arm around his shoulders - or trying to. "This won't take long, I promise you, and then you can return to the pursuit of whichever lady has caught your eye. I promise you, a moment only."

  Bryan glanced over his shoulder to see that Pinky was leading Rianne toward Lydia Worden, and decided he could spare that moment. He caught a glimpse of a dull-eyed man standing next to Lydia, but he was more concerned about what Rianne might hear from the Worden bit. Ah, well, there wasn't anything Lydia could tell the girl about gaming that she didn't already know, so it ought to be perfectly safe. Ought to be. Bryan sighed, wishing he could believe that.

  "
The problem is rather a delicate one, old son," Robert murmured as they strolled toward a part of the room that was less crowded than the rest. "I'll tell you straight out that I had your enterprise thoroughly investigated, you as well as your partner James Raymond. That should tell you how serious this is."

  Bryan let his eyebrows rise, and not simply for effect. In their circle gentlemen trusted one another without question, especially when each knew personally the other's family.

  "You've managed to gain my attention for your moment," Bryan admitted, putting his empty champagne glass on the tray of a passing servant. "But if it's the Crown Jewels you're thinking of moving, I'm afraid I'll have to decline. Even I can't be trusted with that sort of temptation."

  "Stuff and nonsense, old son, stuff and nonsense." Robert chuckled. "Your coffers are full enough to buy a portion of the Crown Jewels, not that that's what we're discussing. And I'm told you and Raymond have each turned down lucrative offers for hire that didn't meet your personal criteria. Your partner may be a commoner, but there's nothing common about his sense of honor. Or yours."

  "Your saying that means a good deal to me," Bryan assured him, as serious as Robert had grown. "I'll also tender thanks on Jamie's behalf, but now I'm even more curious. If it isn't the Crown Jewels, it must be the contents of the vaults of the Bank of England."

  "It's the wrong time of the year for that, old son, but you aren't so very wrong," Robert replied, glancing around to be certain they weren't being overheard. "The B. of E. isn't the only one who ships gold and silver on a regular basis to even out their books with banks in other countries. Father did rather well abroad with enterprises of his own, just like a number of his friends. When it came time for them to send out jewelry or fine furniture or silver trinkets and decorations and such, and in turn to collect gold, they got together for the efforts. My father and four of his friends shipped together four times a year, valuables out, money in, and never had the least bit of trouble."

  "When did that change?" Bryan asked, already knowing it had. If they weren't running into trouble, they wouldn't have needed him.

  "Two years ago," Robert told him with a sigh. "Father and the others thought having their gold and silver stolen twice was simply a little bad luck to make up for all the good, but the same thing happened last year as well and once already this year, about two months ago. Now that I'm into it instead of Father, I want to be certain it doesn't ever happen again. If you and yours can't be trusted to handle it properly, no one in this world can."

  "I think you might want to do more than simply hire one of my companies," Bryan said, already considering the problem. "Painful as the idea will be, you'll first need to check on your four associates. Are all of their businesses thriving, and none of them too deeply into gaming and fast living? If so, you'll then have to check their intimates. Which ones are allowed to know when the shipments are due to go out or come in? Are there mistresses involved, or even wives who can't keep from telling their maids everything? The list will seem endless, Robert, but it all has to be checked or you might as well simply hand over your gold or whatever and be done with it. And that's another question: are your shipments being taken right after leaving their place of origin, or just before they reach here?"

  "Bryan, old son, you've managed to stagger me," Robert said, nearly wide-eyed as he stared. "I see I've done better coming to you than I thought would be the case, but we certainly can't go into details here. May I call on you at home tomorrow? About eleven?"

  "It would look better if I came to you, but I know my staff is completely trustworthy," Bryan answered, weighing ideas. "All right, you come to me, but don't let any of your people know about it. Take your carriage to a club where you can get a change of clothes, then sneak out the back and hire a carriage to take you to a place two streets from my house. Wait until the hired carriage is gone, and then see if you can get to my house without anyone spotting you."

  "By God, but that sounds like a lark," he laughed, the old Robert momentarily back. "Sneaking about like an agent of the Crown in those ghastly books… Serious or not, old son, I believe I'll love it. I may even put on false whiskers."

  "Just make sure you aren't followed, and we may even have a chance to catch the ones responsible," Bryan told him with a grin. "If we do, my partner and I get a percentage of any monies recovered. We can discuss what the percentage is tomorrow…"

  "Lydia, my dear, you're looking lovely as always," Arthur said after leading Rianne over, pausing in front of the woman to bend over her hand. "I've brought a newcomer to introduce you to, but a newcomer in the most amusing way. Machlin has actually gone and done it. Allow me to present Mrs. Rianne Machlin. My dear, this is Miss Lydia Worden."

  "Miss Worden, a pleasure," Rianne said with a smile and a nod. "Pinky has been telling me about the members of the crowd, but there are so many I'm afraid I'll never remember them all. Please call me Rianne."

  "No wonder Bryan has finally done it," the woman replied, looking Rianne over with a faint smile. "Men do so love the obvious. Which is not a count against you, my dear, only against them. Do call me Lydia."

  "I see I'm not the only one in the company of a newcomer," Arthur said while Rianne tried to decide whether she shared Lydia's amusement. "Pinky Sedgwick here, sir. And you are…?"

  "Reginald Tremar, at your service, old man," the other answered at once as he offered his hand. He'd been all but squirming as he hovered on the fringes of the introductions, and now jumped in with both feet. His attempt at instant friendship made Rianne and the others flinch, but Arthur was up to handling it.

  "And what do you think of our little gathering, Mr. Tremar?" he asked while letting his hand be shaken. "Am I wrong in believing this is your first time at one of Alicia's parties?"

  "No, no indeed, this is my first," Tremar agreed with a heartiness that seemed forced. "It certainly won't be my last, though, you can be certain of that. Most of my friends felt I'd be out of place, but nothing like it. Feels more as though I've come home, you see. Yes, definitely home."

  He looked around in an oddly possessive way, as though now that he'd made his first conversational breakthrough there was nothing left but clear sailing. The man was narrow-faced with a sallow complexion, and his thinning, light-brown hair hung lifelessly against his scalp. His brown eyes looked washed-out and dull and, in his distraction with the glitter that surrounded him, sullen and vindictive. Rianne felt she would want to be armed if she ever had to be alone with him, and then those eyes were suddenly on her.

  "Reginald Tremar, at your service, my dear," he said without waiting for a proper introduction. He also took her hand, which made Rianne's skin crawl. "We newcomers should stick together, eh? Those baubles of yours must have cost your husband a pretty penny. Next time have him come to me before he buys. I know where the best baubles can be gotten at the best price."

  Lydia Worden closed her eyes as she began fanning herself furiously again, probably in an effort to keep from fainting. Rianne had met a lot of boors in her life, but Tremar came close to winning the prize. Even a lowly house servant would have known better than to intrude with an offer like that to a stranger, not to mention to a lady. A gentleman discussed price with other men, never with their wives.

  "How lovely of you to be so thoughtful, Mr. Tremar," Rianne murmured while Arthur turned three shades redder. "And we newcomers certainly should stick together. I wonder though: whyever would your friends believe you would be out of place here? Don't they like going to parties?"

  "Only with the dull and unimportant," he responded with a grimace. "Fat little men with their big fat fortunes, not a bit of style to any of 'em. The only time they let down is at Ranelagh, during a masked bash. They think no one knows 'em, see, and then they can pretend to be grand. Well, I want to be known, and after tonight I will be. Just needed the chance."

  He didn't seem to notice that his accent had slipped rather badly, and seemed to be worsening as he drained his champagne glass. Rianne wond
ered how many glasses he'd had, to nerve himself to the chore of becoming "known." It was all but tragic that the man had no idea how useless his efforts were destined to be. No one wanted to know him, most especially since the story of how he'd gotten in had already made the rounds. Even if he'd been acceptable in other ways, his manner would have put people off…

  "I say, we'd better get back to circulating," Arthur put in after clearing his throat. "Machlin's counting on me, after all. Always a pleasure to see you, Lydia…"

  He was obviously trying very hard not to notice how pale the woman had grown; escape was uppermost in his mind, even if it looked like a hasty withdrawal. The tactic would probably have worked with almost anyone else in the room. Reginald Tremar, however, proved once again that he had no idea what "intrusion" meant.

  "I'll just walk along with you, old chap," he announced, back to trying to be hearty. "And I don't mind saying I'll put in a good word for you with the others. Shouldn't let this Machlin make you do his chores for him, not unless he's paying you. If he is, I'll let them all know you deserve double."

  A man with less poise than Pinky Sedgwick would surely have groaned aloud, but the man who would one day be Baron Holwell was made of sterner stuff. Despite the reddening of his face he didn't utter a sound - until he turned to see the two people just in the process of joining them.

  "Well, so there you are," the small, black-haired, pretty young lady announced in frigid tones after his choked gasp. "And you do remember me after all. Your mother, the baroness, will be delighted to hear that, after assuring me her son was the most attentive man in London. I did think, though, that she meant attentive to the lady he'd escorted. Not to a clumsy horse of an overgrown country bumpkin!"

  "Are you still having the same trouble with your eyes, Elizabeth?" Rianne asked with sweet, smiling concern for the dainty girl who glared at her. "I should have thought the problem would have been taken care of long ago. Other than that, how have you been?"