Reckless Rules (Brambridge Novel 4)

by Pearl Darling

  Dogman whistled under his breath as Bill rode back up to the encampment in Beaconsfield dressed in tails and riding breeches. Freddie had loaned Raven to him. The horse sidled as the hairy man looked at Bill’s mount from all angles.

  “I didn’t think you were a smith,” the man said, showing his teeth below his hair. “You spoke too well and seemed too canny.”

  “I am a smith,” Bill said quietly. “I am just other things as well.”

  Dogman nodded. “Why are you back?”

  “I need some help.”

  “Pablo Moreno?”

  Bill nodded. “More specifically his son, Pedro Moreno. I’ve been tracking him for weeks. The nearest I got to him was here. He must have left a couple of weeks before I joined.”

  “He did. That was why we didn’t speak about it to you. The shock took us a while to get over.”

  “I need your help in developing a new act for me. I have to retrieve Pedro Moreno. He has some things that belong to the government. I’m going to join Pablo Moreno’s troupe.

  “Are you sure that is a good idea? Even after we warned you about him?”

  “Even after that. What Pedro possesses is worth more than my life.” Bill dismounted from the horse and led him across to the small tent he had occupied as the troupe’s smith. “I’m just not sure where to start. You are all so inventive with your acts.”

  “What is your act going to be?”

  “I thought I would attempt to be a strongman.”

  “The breaking of the crowbar.”

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “Would you mind if I brought in Greta and Mary? They are the ones who helped me with my act.”

  “Not at all. I need as much help as I can get.”

  Dogman nodded and darted away to find the others. Bill tied Raven to a peg in the ground and entered his tent again. The forge stood where he had left it, the embers now cold. He hadn’t envisaged coming back. He picked up the mended crowbar. It was all very well having one trick, but that wouldn’t hold people’s attention for long. And then there was the case of what he should wear, and what his props should be. It was almost as bad as his list for Victoria.

  “I know what he should wear.” Dogman wheeled Mary into Bill’s tent on her custom made cart. He held up the tent flap as Greta ducked underneath, pulling her arms in with her. Mary stopped talking and stared at Bill’s coat and breeches. “Very, very nice,” she said approvingly.

  Greta sniffed. “I thought you said you were married.”

  “It doesn’t stop a woman appreciating a fine specimen, however.”

  Bill was a little tired of being talked about like he wasn’t there. “I can’t wear this; Pedro Moreno has already seen me wearing this outfit. He will recognize me immediately.”

  “I must admit I double took when I saw you in your finery,” Dogman said. “I wouldn’t have recognized you if it had been the other way round.”

  “For example if he had been topless, with just a pair of tight breeches on and bare feet. Perhaps with wet hair… ahem,” said Mary as three faces turned to look at her.

  “Is that all you have been thinking about since he left?” Greta asked suspiciously.

  “She’s right,” Bill said suddenly. “Take away the clothes and I am completely different. The less I wear the better.”

  Both Mary and Greta turned a delicate shade of pink.

  “What about your act?” Greta exclaimed, rubbing at her ear. “You’ve demonstrated breaking the crowbar, which was very impressive but a little final.”

  “I’m not sure and that is why I need your help.”

  “There will certainly be lots of ladies in the audience if these two are anything to go by.” Dogman grinned. “You might be as lucky as I am if you play your cards right.”

  “Cards,” Mary whispered, “there’s something in that. What is it? Oh! My husband was showing me how easy it was to rip a playing card in two, but not a whole pack. What if you could do that?”

  Bill frowned. He’d never done it before, but it was worth a try. “I can but give it go. What else?”

  “Dogman’s right. You’ll need to do something for the ladies. What about a variation on your crowbar theme? Bend a rod of metal around your arm into a flower or something and present it to one of the ladies in the audience?” Greta waved her three arms in excitement. “It will really give them something to remember.”

  “I can find a metal to do that easily, something that bends a little more than iron.” Bill took out the piece of paper in his pocket and turned it over. He wrote down the two acts on it. “I need a third.”

  “Hmm, carry a horse on your shoulders?”

  “What about breaking a chain over your chest while expanding your rib cage?”

  Greta rolled her eyes. “Trust Mary. How about lifting something heavy like a ship’s anchor and barrels under your arms?”

  “Or the other way round, holding a platform of men on your back?” Dogman’s hair quivered in his excitement. “That seems like enough ideas for your act. You just need to practice now to see what works and what doesn’t.”

  CHAPTER 19

  Victoria slammed her hand down on the edge of her armchair in frustration. Carruthers jumped and looked at her in grave concern.

  “Are you quite alright, my lady?”

  Victoria sighed. It was fourteen days and fifteen long nights since she had put forward her proposition to the dastardly Bill Standish. Seven days and eight nights longer than when he should have been breaking down her doorstep to tell her why she should marry him. She hadn’t actually meant to lead him on so much. She wasn’t looking for marriage, just the companionship. And yet the first week she had been unexpectedly excited, engaging in the most frivolous outings such as shopping for a new dress with an enthusiasm she had not felt for a long time.

  The day after he should have arrived had been the worst. At least on the day that he should have turned up she had waited, expecting him to come all day. The day after she had waited again, but then realization had dawned slowly but surely. She had considered going back to Freddie’s to root Bill out, but had dismissed it out of hand. She was desperate but not that desperate. Bill was probably engaging in all those things that men did, shooting, riding, gambling. Perhaps he had had a heavy week of drinking?

  “Would you care for another cup of tea, Lady Colchester?” Carruthers tried to reach her again.

  “Hell and damnation, Carruthers. I do not want any tea, cake, biscuits, dog company, friend company or anything of the kind. Can’t you see I’m busy?”

  “Um.”

  “Don’t answer that question truthfully.”

  “Yes, your ladyship.”

  At least the darkness hadn’t come back. It seemed that as her anger had grown, the beast had shrunk back into its hole. Once she got her hands on Bill she would…well she wasn’t sure what she would do. After all, he was just treating her in the same way as she had treated him for the past year. In fact, she acknowledged ruefully, it was a very good taste of her own medicine.

  “There is a lady at the door to see you, Lady Colchester.” Carruthers appeared again at the slightly opened drawing room door, not even opening it fully as if afraid of his mistress’ temper.

  “Send her in.” Victoria sniffed. Perhaps this person would distract her. She could try out her newfound anger on someone and see how they reacted.

  “Lady Colchester, how lovely to see you again.”

  Oh dear. Not the person that she wanted to see. “Celine. You look stunning today.”

  Indeed Celine did. But not in the usual siren like attire. Celine was clad in all black, with a whitened pallor.

  “I am in mourning for my only true love,” Celine said grandly. She collapsed into one of the tub chairs and laid a hand on her forehead.

  “Tell me which true love might that be?” Victoria pushed a lock of hair back from her face. Hmm, this newfound cattiness had found just the outlet it needed.

  “Edward, of cours
e.” Celine sat up and stared at Victoria.

  “Oh, do pardon me for being confused, you see there was my brother at one time, and then some other gentleman, and then Mr. Fiske and then—” Victoria stopped with barely a choke—“and then there was Mr. Standish.”

  “And therein lies the demise of my relationship with Mr. Fiske.” Celine lay back and put a hand theatrically to her face. “I met Mr. Standish for a walk in the park, and planted an innocent but grateful kiss upon his face, and who should see but my one, my only.”

  “Yes, yes.” Walk in the park, really did the woman take her for a fool?

  “My Edward. He’s turned me away, oh whatever shall I do?”

  “Firstly you can pull yourself together.”

  Celine took the artfully draped hand away from her face and peeped at Lady Colchester. Her eyes were dry, although creases around her eyes were evident.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “Yes, quite. And whilst you are at it, you can sit up and stop lolling in my chair.”

  Celine’s lips twitched. “My, the cat has claws hasn’t she?” she murmured softly. “How interesting.”

  “Not as interesting as your feigned histrionics of the last five minutes.” Victoria was just beginning to enjoy herself. Goodness. Was this what it felt like if you told people what you really felt? It was liberating. “Why are you really here, Celine?”

  Celine pursed her lips and her shoulders slumped. “There was no one else I could come and talk to.”

  Victoria blinked. Celine wanted to talk to her? “What about Agatha or Melissa or anyone of Lady Anglethorpe’s salon? They know you better than I.”

  “Yes, but you are the only one who knows Bill Standish well.”

  “I’m not sure I would say that…”

  “You know him, and you two are uncannily alike,” Celine said obstinately.

  “I can assure you we are not related. There have been too many skeletons in that closet for Mr. Standish to address, let alone on my side.” Indeed it was true. Bill was the illegitimate half-brother of Lord Stanton which had only been revealed after Lord Stanton had nearly died at the hands of another despicable relative.

  Celine waved her hand airily. “No, no, I don’t mean like that. I mean in the way you act. You have a way of getting people to tell you things.”

  “That is not a fact on which to base an assumption that Mr. Standish and I are alike.”

  Celine stared at Victoria. “You really don’t see it, do you?”

  “See what?”

  “I’m not going to tell you until you do.”

  “Celine, I’m not here to play games.”

  “Ahem,” Carruthers coughed through the semi open door. “You have another visitor, my lady.”

  “Oh, send her in too.” Victoria couldn’t resist. Who cared about subterfuge?

  “Can I send in some tea now too?”

  “What, yes of course.”

  Celine giggled. “Your poor butler. Whatever did you say to him?” As Victoria turned to look at her, Celine sobered. “Forget I asked.”

  “May I come in, Lady Colchester?”

  Victoria had forgotten about her latest visitor, whose trembling voice indicated a clear need of some restorative tea.

  “Do come in.” Victoria blinked as her latest visitor entered falteringly. “Mrs. Prident!” She stood up and brushed to the back of her desk and pulled out the large chair that sat behind the desk. “Sit down, sit down, whatever happened?”

  “Maisie and Rosie are gone!”

  “Who are Maisie and Rosie?” Celine asked curiously.

  “Just sit still and be quiet, Celine. Sit down please, Mrs. Prident.”

  The trembling woman sank slowly into the desk chair. Carruthers entered with a large pot of tea and more cake, followed by Ponzi and Brutus.

  “My goodness,” Mrs. Prident said faintly as Brutus laid a head on her knee.

  “I’m sorry about him. He tends to think he can help when he meets people in distress. Down, Brutus, otherwise no cake for you.”

  “A bit like his owner,” Celine murmured.

  “I’m not his owner.” Victoria poured a cup of tea for Mrs. Prident and another for Celine.

  “I know.”

  Victoria ignored Celine. She was merely a distraction. Rosie and Maisie had gone. There must be more that Mrs. Prident could tell her. Perhaps if she let Mrs. Prident come to, and didn’t put too much pressure on her, then she would start to talk. Victoria cut the cake into three generous slices and laid them on individual plates.

  Mrs. Prident slurped noisily at her tea whilst Celine watched in fascination. Brutus lay on Mrs. Prident’s feet and rumbled calmingly. Ponzi danced underneath Celine’s cake plate, catching crumbs as the ex-courtesan pushed the large slice around with the silver fork provided.

  “Rosie and Maisie were meant to meet me in the schoolroom for one of our private tuition lessons after supper,” Mrs. Prident said suddenly. “But they didn’t show up.”

  “They could have had other engagements,” Victoria said cautiously.

  “I went looking for them.”

  “And?”

  “I saw them being bundled into a large cab. They didn’t seem unwilling, although they didn’t seem quite there if you know what I mean. I called their names, and they didn’t turn.”

  “Perhaps they didn’t want you seeing them going?”

  “I didn’t like the way the gentleman handled them. He had his hands everywhere and they didn’t protest. That was not like Maisie or Rosie. They were always so prim and proper about their being, even though they were in the pauper house.”

  “When did this happen?”

  Mrs. Prident thrust a nervous look behind her. “Yesterday evening. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night and came here as soon as I could this morning. I think the man saw my face. I thought he might come for me too.”

  “The man—it wasn’t Mr. Durnish?”

  “Mr. Durnish?” Celine said suddenly. “The gentleman who just bought a house in Kensington?”

  Victoria rolled her eyes. “Yes. But I wouldn’t consider him as your next victim, pardon, lover. I think he’s a very dangerous man.”

  “So do I,” Celine said, setting her plate on the floor to Ponzi’s delight. “He’s the one who has Edward tied up in knots. It was getting to the point that Edward was spending all his time in the man’s company and wouldn’t come home to see me.” Celine burst into tears. “Even Mr. Standish couldn’t help me.”

  Victoria had no idea how Bill could have helped Celine with the situation between Edward and Mr. Durnish. Certainly he hadn’t been a very good confidant if he had just taken advantage of the hapless Celine by giving her treatment.

  “Anyway, he couldn’t have been the one that was with your Maisie and Rosie last night. He was at Edward’s.”

  Victoria frowned. “How do you know?”

  “Because I saw him there.”

  “But I thought you and Edward were not on speaking terms?”

  “I broke into his garden and spied on him from the window.”

  Hmm. It just depended on which Mr. Durnish was there too, the old one or the younger impersonating version.

  “Did he look old or young?” Victoria demanded.

  Celine frowned. “Old I believe. He left an enormous top hat on the table, and his hair was all white.”

  “Did you get a glance at his face?”

  “No. He was talking to another man, with his back to me. The other man was… different, not from here.”

  Victoria sat back. Celine had not helped. It could have been either the older Durnish or the younger impersonator.

  “My gentleman was young but didn’t look anything like Mr. Durnish.” Mrs. Prident had calmed down enough to stroke Brutus’ great head. He sighed in pleasure. “He wore a very high cravat and was hatless.”

  That ruled out the younger man too, as he looked too like Durnish not to have impersonated him so well. A very high cravat. Victoria groaned
. When she had visited Mr. Durnish in Kensington, on the way out she had passed by the odious froglike Mr. Cryne whose head could barely move, trapped as it was in its towering cravat.

  “Tell me, this young man. He didn’t remind you of a toad, did he?”

  “There was certainly something quite amphibious about him,” Mrs. Prident said cautiously. “The pushed up cravat certainly flattened his jaw and his eyes bulged somewhat.”

  “Oh dear, dear, me.” Now she could add abduction to Mr. Cryne’s list of sins. Carruthers had been right. A leopard certainly does not change its spots. Now she really had something to tell Miss Fanthorpe, and this once she would not relish telling her. No woman wanted to know criminal facts about their intended.

  “Who is it?” Celine asked curiously.

  Victoria put her plate down. “I believe it is Mr. Cryne.”

  “Odious man.” Celine put out her tongue in disgust. “Like father like son.”

  “Do tell?”

  “Mr. Cryne the elder put his hands all over me in front of his wife and suggested that I might like to enjoy an evening of pleasure with them all.” At Victoria’s frown, Celine squawked. “I might be an ex-courtesan, but to do that in front of Edward was beyond the pale.” Celine blinked and a few tears ran again from her immaculately made up eyes. “It was funny, but Edward said nothing about it. He merely laughed with the rest of them. That was at the beginning of when things started to go wrong and he stopped talking to me.”

  CHAPTER 20

  It took a week to perfect the act, and another week to catch up with Pablo Moreno’s Grand Travelling Museum. It was ironic that when Bill finally found the troupe, they were back in London.

  In the end, there had not been many changes made to the proposed act that Dogman, Mary and Greta had come up with. He had run through it with them one final time before he left.

  Mary and Greta had stared in silence as he had entered the tent, bare-chested, with tight breeches and bare feet. Dogman had only grunted. They had run wax through his overlong hair and Dogman had given him some kind of oil that he used on his own hair that he assured him would make Bill’s body glisten darkly.