Victoria gasped as a hand snaked round the base of her spine, and a hot leg pressed up against the silk of her dress. She stared straight across the table at Freddie, who was still chatting to Chantelle in French. Rescue me, she tried to project, wanting to catch Chantelle’s eye. But her body was saying something different.
Good God. The hand had begun to move, stroking her bottom where the silk pulled tight against her drawers.
“My lady,” Bill whispered, turning his head slightly to her.
“Stop it,” she muttered, trying to push Bill away, but only succeeding in grabbing his magnificently muscled thigh.
Bill bent his head to look into her eyes. His hand stroked softly across her lower back.
“Treatment—”
Victoria jumped and turned her head so that her nose bumped Bill’s. He jerked his head away, unwinding his hand quickly, holding onto to his own nose with a squawk.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I was saying, Lady Colchester, that my horse Lindsay requires some definite treatment. I believe she has laminitis.” Freddie frowned. “Are you both quite alright?”
Victoria stopped moving and curled her hands into a fist.
“Ow,” Bill said quietly. “Victoria…”
A warm hand covered hers. Without realizing it, she had left her hand on Bill’s thigh, and in the stress of the situation had held on and squeezed tightly. One by one, Bill delicately levered up her tense fingers and moved her hand into his large palm. For such a large man, his fingers were so deft—
Chantelle’s unlined face creased slightly as she watched Victoria reach out with her left hand and shakily take a drink of the cool tea. As much as Victoria tugged at her right hand, it was most definitely caught in Bill’s.
“Let me call for another pot,” Freddie said cheerfully. “Can’t have Francesco serving customers cold tea.”
Victoria nodded. Was this the second part of the treatment? Seduction in a public place? She licked her lips as Bill’s thumb started to circle around her palm. This was worse than earlier. There was no longer a layer of silk between her hot flesh and his cool touch. Celine was most definitely wrong. A lady did not feel more together after or even during treatment.
“I beg your pardon?” she said, noticing Freddie staring at her. Bill laughed gently.
“I asked what you have been up to recently?”
“Oh, this and that.” Victoria racked her brains. Most of her time had been spent investigating Mr. Cryne and thinking about the missing girls. “Salons, musicales, that sort of thing.”
“An empty life,” Bill said derisively.
“Oh, I’m not sure,” Freddie said, sending a reproving look at Bill. “We all attend the same things. Apart from the fact that we men might go shooting at Manton’s.”
“At least we do some work for the Crown.”
“I’m not sure that women are often accorded the same courtesy as men in that opportunity,” Victoria said.
“What you need, Lady Colchester, is a husband.”
It was hard to think straight after Bill said that. His fingers had stepped up their assault on her palm. He looked at her intensely.
Chantelle coughed vigorously. Freddie turned his attention back to the maid, solicitously thumping her on the back. In concern, Victoria made to stand.
“Chantelle, are you quite alright?”
“Ooh, yes Madame, aha, but I could aha, do with some fresh air.” Chantelle looked up. Her eyes were clear and calm. “Aha.”
“I believe we should go.” Chantelle was right. Victoria was being a fool. She must have been hypnotized. That was the secret of Bill’s treatment. Hypnotism. Why on earth had she remained sitting there for as long as she had?
Her hand slipped reluctantly out of Bill’s grasp, feeling strangely cold and bereft as she motioned to him to move. Bill sat for a few seconds longer, but just when she thought that she might need to say something more to move him, he slid out from under the table and bowed slightly as she pulled herself up from the banquette.
His brown eyes looked into hers from his bowed position. He did not blink. “Victoria,” he said softly.
“Oh, get out the way, Standish. Can’t you see that Chantelle can’t get out with your great bulk in the way?” Freddie said plaintively.
As Bill sidestepped away, Victoria kept her eyes away from his retreating figure. It was too dangerous.
She shivered. What would his third round of treatment bring?
CHAPTER 12
Bill yanked at the comb and grunted as it caught in the horse’s tail. It was no use. However he thought about it, Bill could not apply Hades’ strategy to his own situation. He had chanted Sun Tzu’s words to himself before he went to sleep, in the morning when he was out walking and in the afternoon when Freddie invited him to Manton’s.
Lure your enemy into treacherous terrain and then cut off his lines of communication and avenues of escape. To save himself he might fight both your own forces and the elements of nature.
It wasn’t exactly catchy like a folk tune, and the more he said it, the more absurd it seemed that he would be able to enact it.
Pulling the comb through the horse’s hair, he reached up again and started on the horse’s mane, flicking off the wet soap onto the stable’s cobbled floors as he did so.
What was treacherous terrain for an acrobat who could climb, flip, spring and dance on any ground possible? And how on earth was he going to cut off the man’s communication when he didn’t even know where the damn man was? And then to think that Bill wasn’t going to be fighting the same forces of nature himself given that he was a large strapping man with only the lesser acrobatic agility borne of climbing rigging, sailing and dealing with hot metal.
There were no two ways about it. Strategy was not Bill’s talent. He had reached yet another dead end.
“Don’t look so glum, old chap.”
Bill let out a relieved sigh as Freddie appeared at the stable door. Horses were something he knew. As a smith he had to shoe anything that came to his door, as well as the usual ironwork that anybody wanted. That was why he had taken refuge in Freddie’s stables. Horses did not talk back. They understood his humor. They reveled in his strong, but firm, touch.
“You know I don’t think I’ve seen old Raven so happy.” Freddie picked up another comb and started on the other side of the black horse. The horse stamped his feet and Freddie put the comb down with a laugh. “I can see that Raven has certainly made up his mind. He’s been inconsolable since old Lovall left for foreign climes. I don’t whether horses or women prefer you the most.”
“I’m not sure Lady Colchester would attest to that,” Bill said before he could stop himself.
Freddie upended a bucket and unceremoniously dropped himself onto its base. “I’m not sure that telling her she leads an empty life is the best way to win her affections.”
“I don’t want her affections.” Bill jumped back as Raven protested against the force with which Bill had pushed the comb into the horse’s side.
Freddie raised his eyebrows. “You fooled me in Francesco’s. I could have lit candles with the heat that was between the two of you.” He slapped his bucket seat hard, causing it to clang. “What do you really want then?”
“I… never mind what I want. Where’s Lovall gone then?”
“Granwich wouldn’t say. Just that he was out of the country doing something that only Anthony could do.”
“That could mean a whole host of things.”
“Mmm, quite.” Freddie nodded before swinging his head sharply to the stable door.
“Pardon me, sir, but one of them lads from Mr. Standish’s estate is here asking for entry to the stables. Should I let him in?” One of Freddie’s ostlers poked his head around the door.
“Which one is it?” Bill asked curiously.
“He says his name’s Percy, sir. He’s started to complain about how long I’ve kept him waiting.”
“That’s definitely P
ercy alright.”
“Send him through, lad,” Freddie said, standing and brushing off the loose straw that had drifted onto his breeches.
“I told you that he would want to see me urgently.” Percy could be heard complaining to the poor ostler from the yard. “I’ve only come back up from Devon, you know, post-haste to see him.”
Freddie rolled his eyes. Bill nodded. If Percy hadn’t been such a good smith then he would have been slung out of the forge years before.
“Percy!” Bill roared. “Stop complaining and get in here now.”
“Oh, err, I’d better go then.”
Freddie guffawed and stood, knocking over the bucket he had sat on. It fell over with a clang causing, Raven to sidle slightly.
Percy entered the stable, looking a little less puffed up than expected given his bravado in the yard.
“You are meant to be back down in Devon working out whether or not you want to be a footman, a smith or something else!” Bill said exasperatedly.
“I was.” Percy twirled his cap in his hand. “But I’ve been out of the forge for so long that I don’t have the muscles for it, and George won’t have me back as a footman. Do you know what he said to me? He said I complained too much. He thinks that now that he is your man of affairs he can tell everyone what to do. I preferred him when he was a butler.”
Bill pushed the comb he was holding into Percy’s hand and motioned at Raven who was eyeing the new arrival with interest. “Finish off the horse, Percy, and tell us why you are here.”
The activity did the trick. After ten minutes of vigorous grooming, Percy was calm again and Raven looked to be back to his equilibrium after his scare from the bucket.
Bill gave a nod of satisfaction. “Well, I think I know where I will start you off. In the stables, that’s where. Get back those muscles you’ve lost and then you can decide whether or not you go back to the smithing.”
“Really?” For once, the complaining Percy had nothing more to say. A grin spread across his face.
“Really, now tell me why you came all the way to London, given that I only sent the lot of you back a week ago after you ate poor Lord Lassiter here out of house and home.”
Freddie nodded. “’T is true, poor old Willson had a job buying enough food for you all.”
Percy colored and bent over to start to brushing down one of Raven’s fetlocks. “I think I might have found Pedro Moreno,” he said in a muffled voice. “Or at least, somewhere he has been.”
Bill frowned. Percy had failed spectacularly on his fact finding mission, having achieved only one day in his search for Pedro Moreno before being roundly beaten and skulking back to London.
“How on earth—”
“The bloke I was having a drink with in the pub in Dorset, before I was… beaten. He was with a strolling group of players that had just arrived in the district. I’d just asked him about acrobats when this big bloke came up to me and wham I found myself with a couple of bruises and on the way back to London.”
“What about him?”
“The Merrie Men arrived in Ottery last week.”
“Merrie Men?”
“The same group of strolling players that was in Dorset.”
“Ah.”
“Yes. And I saw the same bloke down the Fountain Inn in Brambridge.”
“How did he recognize you?”
Percy bent lower over Raven’s fetlock. “I might have been complaining about the beer.”
“Thank God Ned the innkeeper knows you well.”
“Hmm yes. He is my uncle.”
Freddie who had stayed quiet snorted with laughter. “Only in Brambridge.”
Bill flapped at him. “Let the boy go on. So you were complaining about the beer…”
“Yes, and he said that he would recognize my voice from anywhere.”
“You made quite an impression.”
“Hmm. Yes, he said he had never seen anyone continue to complain whilst they were being walloped before.”
Bill took a deep breath. “So what did he tell you?”
“We...ell, apparently just before I was carried away,”
“For your beating…”
“For my beating, thank you, Lord Lassiter. He was about to tell me about a new acrobatic act that had joined the Merrie Men, one who kept fumbling his turns. In fact the acrobat seemed quite upset about something.”
Bill pushed himself away from the stable wall. “So the Merrie Men are still down in Ottery?
Percy nodded and stood up straight, wincing as his back creaked audibly. “Yes, but the acrobat’s not with them anymore. They threw him out.”
“Because he wasn’t ‘merrie’ enough?” Freddie said with a straight face.
Bill groaned. Percy threw him a sheepish look but continued. “No, because he got too good. After a time he seemed to calm down and became the most amazing acrobatic phenomenon. People were coming to see him and not the rest of the show.”
“Where did he go after the Merrie Men?”
“Let me guess,” said Freddie bouncing on his toes, “the Pleasurable Players?”
Bill closed his eyes. “Don’t be silly, Freddie…”
“Not quite,” Percy said with his hand over his mouth. “Wolfman says that he may have gone to his old troupe… the Unusual Oddities.”
Bill groaned. He couldn’t stop himself. “Let me guess. Wolfman has a lot of hair.”
Percy nodded vigorously. “That’s the unique thing about some of these fairground folk. They are unusual in their own right—not just acrobats or clowns.”
“What makes… Wolfman think that he has joined the Unusual Oddities?”
“They crossed over in Axminster. That’s where the acrobat disappeared. Wolfman has heard reports that the Unusual Oddities have had a new acrobatic show for the past month.”
“Does he know where they are showing now?”
Percy shook his head. “Apparently they were working their way to Beaconsfield, a place on the way to London.”
Bill nodded. “Anything else, Perce?”
“No, but—” Percy smiled broadly. “My arms hurt, can I stop brushing now?”
Freddie laughed uproariously whilst Bill nodded. “You have done a good job.”
“He can stay in the stable rooms again for a couple of days to get his breath back if you want, Bill.” Freddie pointed at the ceiling. “I understand the boys were the envy of my stable hands getting to stay up there.”
Percy nodded. “Aye, we were. I would be grateful my lord. I haven’t stopped since leaving Brambridge and I still hurt slightly from where I was beaten.” As if remembering, Percy hunched his shoulder and limped from the stable. Laughing again, Freddie clapped the lad on the shoulder, causing him to stumble. He followed him from small stall.
Bill eyed the sleepy looking Raven. So something good had come from sending out his men as per Anglethorpe’s advice, but it was purely by luck that anything had come out of it. All he needed to do now was to get close to Pedro and then he’d work out what to do.
“Perce!” he yelled. Raven jumped again, and stood heavy-lidded when he saw no nearby danger. Bill strode out of the stable and to the door of the stable apartments. “Perce, do they have many horses in these strolling players?”
Percy clattered back down the stairs. “Yes. You wouldn’t believe the amount. Show horses, horses that count, horses to pull the wagons. It’s unbelievable.”
“Good.” That was how Bill was going to get in close to Pedro Moreno. He would do what he knew best and God help him if it didn’t come off. Being a smith was what he had been most of his life. If he couldn’t get a job as a lowly paid smith with the Unusual Oddities then he was certifiably talentless.
CHAPTER 13
A mist swirled unseasonably and the day was cool as Victoria arrived at the small mews house in Stockwell. A drably dressed but clean and starched maid let her into the house, and directed her into the front room where efforts had been made to create a light and bright atmo
sphere.
“Victoria! How good of you to come and see me.” The wrinkled lady sat hunched in a large wing backed chair and blinked at her owlishly with bright eyes.
“Not at all, Eustacia, I enjoy visiting you.”
“What’s that? Speak up, girl, can’t hear a blessed word you’re saying.” Goodness but the old girl was still a harridan.
Victoria sat down in the opposite chair to Eustacia and took a deep breath. “Not at all, I enjoy visiting you,” she bellowed, hoping the servants wouldn’t hear.
“Gracious, no need to shout, young lady. I’m only right next to you.”
Victoria took another deep breath and glanced up towards the ceiling. God preserve her from batty old ladies. She had a soft spot for Eustacia though, who was the only seemingly normal relative of her dear dead husband. In fact she was almost the only living relative of Lord Colchester remaining.
“Sorry, Eustacia.” Victoria raised her voice but didn’t bellow this time.
“So. You want to know about Ponsonby Butterworth?”
Victoria nodded.
“It’s a name I haven’t heard in a while. But it will cost you.” Eustacia smiled and her eyes glinted brighter. “As my dear departed cousin would say.”
Victoria nodded. Eustacia was the only one who probably had an inkling of what Lord Colchester, her cousin, had been like. Eustacia had once told Victoria that ‘dear Augustus’ had tried to blackmail her when he was in his mid-thirties, and she was in her twenties. She had given him a good talking to about some of the things that she could blackmail him about and he had apparently given up very quickly. Victoria opened her ever handy pelisse and rooted around at the bottom for the parcel wrapped in brown paper. Drawing it out, she handed it to Eustacia with a wink.
“Ah good. I think we should have these now. Did you bring any clippers with you? I can’t leave things like that lying around without people seeing them. I might be living in Stockwell but I still have my standards.”
Victoria nodded and pulled out a weighty silver square from her bag. Eustacia ripped into the brown paper with gusto and drew out two fragrant cigars that had come from Victoria’s secret drawer.
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