Louise Allen Historical Collection

by Louise Allen

  Quinn did not respond to her statement, but neither did he agree. He cut into his steak and said, ‘I am going to the Society of Antiquaries, then I am making some visits, taking up invitations to call.’ He smiled, although without humour. ‘Insinuating my foot into respectable society. Then I will meet Gregor and we will see if the rumours we have picked up about Makepeace can be forged into a lever to get him out of The Blue Door.’

  ‘How have you discovered anything about him in such a short time?’ Lina asked. ‘We have only been in London two days.’

  ‘Gregor has been here longer, don’t forget. But I wrote from Norfolk to my agents and to some rather less respectable sources. I may not come to England often, but I trade and that means I have a network of acquaintances in many ports. Makepeace has the air of a man who has reinvented himself; I suspect he would rather take my money for his share in The Blue Door and vanish than confront his old life. We will see.’

  ‘That will be a great relief for Aunt Clara,’ Lina said, making herself eat the bacon in front of her. Picking at her food was senseless.

  ‘But you are wondering what I am doing about the sapphire?’

  ‘Yes. I have to confess it would be a weight off my mind not to expect arrest and worse at any moment,’ she said, trying for a lightness she did not feel.

  ‘I will meet Reginald Tolhurst tomorrow night and then I hope to discover what he did with his father’s ring.’ Quinn buttered bread lavishly as though he had not just dropped a bombshell.

  ‘Reginald? But why do you think he had it?’

  ‘Who else?’ Quinn raised an eyebrow at her bemused expression. ‘Sir Humphrey was wearing it when you were undressing. You did not take it and you were in the room up to the point it was found to be missing. Reginald took his father’s left hand to feel for a pulse and then discovered the ring was gone.’

  ‘But why would he do such a thing? It is very valuable, but well known and difficult to dispose of, surely?’

  ‘That puzzles me, I have to admit,’ Quinn agreed. ‘Did he know his father’s will left him insufficient funds to cover his obligations? Or perhaps he just could not resist the opportunity to take it and then had to worry about disposing of it afterwards. He is obviously a gambler and not a wise one. But if it was cut up for safe disposal, even a big sapphire would be greatly reduced in value.’

  For a moment Lina was breathless with relief, then reality hit—this was a theory, nothing more. ‘But how will you prove it?’ she asked.

  ‘We set a trap, bait it lavishly and make sure of our witnesses.’ Lina shivered. Quinn reminded her of a hunting cat all of a sudden: sleek, focused menace.

  ‘I want to come, too.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘I see, your word is law. That attitude is hardly an inducement for me to marry you, you know,’ she pointed out sweetly. ‘I want more from a marriage than to sit at home meekly doing what my husband tells me. I expect a partnership.’

  ‘Does that mean you are going to see sense about this?’

  ‘About marriage? Maybe.’ Lina cast down her eyes so he could not see the defiance in them. ‘If I thought I might see more of you than a glimpse at breakfast and interludes in the bedchamber.’

  ‘This is dangerous,’ he began, then, to her amazement, he hesitated. ‘It seems unfair that he has made you suffer so much and you cannot see the end game. Yes, you may come along, but only if you promise to do as you are told.’

  ‘I swear it! Thank you, Quinn.’ She looked up, smiling, enchanted that he would do this, overrule his own judgement, because he felt it was fair. I love you, she thought, and then saw him frown as he studied her face. What had she betrayed? ‘I want to see him get his come-uppance,’ she added, hoping her glowing pleasure would be read as delight in revenge, not directed at him.

  ‘You had best wear your Oriental disguise,’ he said after a moment. ‘It is the best thing to hide your hair and this time I can explain you away as a servant if you are seen.’

  Quinn found Celina’s face kept coming back into his mind throughout the day, distracting him while he had serious discussions about Crusader castles at the Society of Antiquaries, interrupting the smooth flow of his small talk while he took tea at the homes of those gentlemen who had extended invitations, making him vague when Gregor spoke to him in the carriage taking them to The Blue Door late that night.

  ‘Are you ill?’ the Russian demanded.

  ‘No.’ Quinn sat up and made himself focus. Perhaps he was sickening for something because otherwise, why could he not get the infuriating woman out of his head?

  ‘In love, then?’

  ‘Of course not. But I have asked Celina to marry me,’ Quinn said abruptly. ‘It seemed the best thing.’

  ‘So, I am to be the best man? I like the idea,’ Gregor said with a grin.

  ‘She says she won’t have me,’ Quinn admitted, gratified by the way his friend’s jaw dropped. ‘And I have told her she can come with us to trap Tolhurst.’

  ‘You are mad, both of you. But we are here now, you can tell me later.’

  Makepeace was in the salon when they arrived. His smile of welcome faded when Quinn said, ‘A word with you in private, sir?’ but he guided them through to an office and shut the door.

  ‘You have some complaint, gentlemen?’

  ‘Not at all. I merely wish to purchase your share in this establishment.’ Quinn could see no merit in beating around the bush.

  ‘It is not for sale, Mr Arbuthnott. I cannot imagine what can have given you the idea that it was.’ He sat behind his oversized desk like a spider in a corner and eyed them warily.

  ‘We are both sailing under false colours,’ Quinn remarked. ‘I am Lord Dreycott and you, sir, are Henry Foxton, wanted by the authorities for arms dealing with the enemies of the Crown.’

  The man froze. ‘Nonsense. I have my papers in this drawer, letters from my attorney—’

  ‘And you also have a pistol in there, no doubt. Really, Foxton, do we look that easily gulled? I am insulted. And armed.’ Quinn brought his hand out of his pocket and rested it, and the small pistol it held, on his crossed knee. The man calling himself Makepeace froze. ‘There is no need for drama. I will not betray you to the magistrates if you will take a fair price for your interest here—and disappear.’

  ‘Why?’ Makepeace blustered. But Quinn could see from the calculation in the small brown eyes that he had already decided to cut his losses.

  ‘Because I have a fancy for the place and it is an insult that men who have fought for their country should be entertained here by scum like you. I have money and a deed of sale; our business can be dealt with here and now.’

  Gregor took the wad of banknotes out of the breast of his coat and tossed them across the desk. Makepeace thumbed through them, his eyes flickering back and forth between the money and the gun. ‘Here.’ Quinn pushed a document across the desk. ‘Drawn up by my attorney today. You take the money and your personal belongings. You leave the keys and you walk away tonight. If you are seen here again, I will have the magistrates on you. Agreed?’

  Makepeace looked from the money back to Quinn, then nodded abruptly. He reached for the pen in the standish. ‘Your real name,’ Quinn said softly.

  Quinn signed and Gregor witnessed the document. ‘Now,’ Quinn said, handing the pistol to Gregor, ‘you will pack and leave. Give me the keys.’ He held out his hand. ‘My friend will see you out.’ The dark, sly eyes sent him a look of pure venom, but he had to give the man credit for sizing up the situation and knowing when to cut and run, not stay and bluster.

  Makepeace pushed a bunch of keys across the desk. ‘Mr Vasiliev will search you before you go,’ Quinn added, getting to his feet. A second key appeared from an inner waistcoat pocket. ‘Thank you. Good evening. I trust we are never going to meet again.’ The look he received in return promised a slow and painful death, but Quinn merely nodded and left the room.

  The salon was busy now, warm and fragrant with perfume, pow
der, the scent of flowers and candle wax. Quinn wove his way through, smiling at the girls he recognised, and made his way upstairs to tap on Madam Deverill’s door.

  ‘Lord Dreycott!’ She put a hand on his arm and drew him inside. ‘Is anything wrong with Celina?’

  ‘No, nothing is wrong.’ She did not look well this evening, even frailer than the night before. Knowing that her niece was in London, even closer to danger, could not help. He handed her the papers. ‘These are for you. Makepeace will be leaving very shortly.’

  She read them, sinking down on to a chaise as she did so. ‘I am free of him? Truly?’

  ‘Yes.’ Quinn told her what had happened as he stood by the window, the curtain drawn back a little so he could see the street below. ‘Come, see,’ he said after a few minutes. Light spilled out as the front door opened and the figure of Makepeace emerged on to the pavement, a valise in each hand. Gregor followed, carrying another bag. He signalled for a hackney, bundling both man and bags inside. As he did so two other figures detached themselves from the shadows and entered the vehicle, one on each side. Gregor spoke to the driver and it moved off.

  ‘What has just happened?’ Madam Deverill asked. ‘You promised him his freedom, but—’

  ‘I promised not to give him over to the authorities. I said nothing about putting him in the hands of a certain sea captain who is going on a long voyage east. The captain’s an honest man, after a fashion. Makepeace will keep his money, and his life. He may even start a new career, a long way away. I do not like men who seek to make money at the expense of their own countrymen’s lives. He was dealing in weapons with our enemies during the war.’

  ‘Thank you.’ She turned and took his hands. ‘Thank you so much. You will want to see the figures, of course, so you know how much return you might expect every month—’

  ‘That is a gift,’ Quinn said, taking the papers from her hand and going to her pretty ormolu desk. He wrote across the bottom and signed it. ‘I intend marrying Celina and I would wish her to have no anxiety about your position.’

  Madam Deverill’s thin face went so pale that the subtle macquillage she wore stood out against her skin, then she smiled and held out her hands. ‘I am so happy for you both! You love her, then?’

  ‘I feel it is only right, given the circumstances, which have, you will agree, compromised her utterly,’ Quinn said, trying not to wince at love. Why did women have to imagine that every man was capable of such softening of the brain? Marriages could be perfectly comfortable without all this damned emotion. He took her hands and dropped a kiss on one.

  ‘Hardly through your own fault,’ Madam said. ‘I honour you for doing the right thing despite your lack of feeling for her.’

  ‘I did not say I held Celina in anything but affection and regard,’ Quinn said, unaccountably irritated. He liked Celina. In fact, he was very fond of her, she had spirit and a sense of humour and intelligence. She was loyal and affectionate. She would, he was certain, make a good mother. And she would certainly be passionate in bed. Why should her aunt assume he felt nothing for her if he did not feel love? ‘I must persuade her of that, however.’

  ‘I wish you every success,’ Madam Deverill said with a faint smile. ‘And I thank you for my freedom from Makepeace.’

  ‘You will do,’ Quinn said. Lina stood in front of him, once more in her boy’s clothes, her hair concealed by the turban, but without any of the discreet jewels he had given her to wear the night before. ‘Stick to Gregor like glue; if anyone speaks to you, say something in broken English. You’re a servant, remember.’

  ‘Yes, lord,’ Lina said in imitation of the subservient tone Gregor had used that first night at Dreycott Park.

  Quinn grinned at her. ‘Here, take this money. If anything happens, if someone recognises you, leave at once, run, and take a hackney back here.’

  She was still dizzy from relief at hearing that Makepeace had sold up without difficulty and was on his way to a new life in the East, although Quinn was strangely reluctant to explain why the man had allowed himself to be so easily persuaded. He had been brusque when she had tried to thank him.

  He is keeping things from me, she thought. But now her aunt was safe her way was clear to leave London and take advantage of her legacy, just as soon as the sapphire was discovered. She would find herself a cosy home, a few servants and search for Bella and Meg. And in time she would learn to live with the hollow feeling inside her, the knowledge that Quinn was somewhere in the world, living his own life, an adventurous, satisfying life that did not include her. And which would, she was certain, include a large number of other women.

  That is another reason for not marrying him, she concluded, curling up in a chair while Gregor and Quinn played a hand of cards, passing time until the hour when Quinn had arranged to meet Reginald Tolhurst in the Pickering Place hell. Could he possibly ever be faithful if he married without love?

  They set out at last. St James’s Street was busy with men moving between club and gaming house, chop house and brothel, some alone, more in convivial groups. In amongst them the women moved, some elegant, refined, accompanied by a maid on their way to an appointment. Others were coarser, more obvious as they caught at sleeves and made their offers.

  Gregor and Lina remained in the carriage as Quinn got down, put on his tall hat and sauntered down the passageway next to Berry Brothers and Rudd’s shop. Even this late Lina could smell the coffee wafting from its cellars.

  ‘Now we wait,’ Gregor said, settling back. They sat in silence for a while, watching the crowd. Lina felt her eyelids droop; even the anticipation of what the evening would hold was not enough to counter inaction and an almost sleepless night.

  ‘Why will you not marry him?’ Gregor asked suddenly.

  ‘Because he thinks he should wed me,’ Lina said, startled out of her doze and speaking before she thought. ‘He doesn’t love me.’

  ‘And you love him?’

  ‘No, of course not!’ she lied, hating denying how she felt to this man who was so close to Quinn and who must understand him so well. It would be wonderful to talk to Gregor about him, but she knew she could not do so without betraying herself. ‘I am quite unsuitable for a man of his rank, and he knows it. But whether I was or not, I believe in love in marriage and I do not want to end up wed to a man who will feel shackled for ever as a result.’

  ‘You think you could shackle Quinn?’ Gregor gave a snort of laughter. ‘I would like to see a woman try.’

  ‘So he would marry me and then carry on doing just what he wants, would he? He would spend most of his time abroad travelling, taking lovers while I sat at home like a good little wife? Forgive me, but I do not call that marriage.’

  ‘Many women do,’ the Russian pointed out.

  ‘I am not most women,’ Lina retorted. ‘I would not tolerate infidelity for a start!’

  ‘He is a man of passion,’ Gregor remarked. In the lights from the street she could see he was amused.

  ‘Then he could be passionate with me,’ she snapped. ‘He would have to come home if he could not be celibate.’

  ‘Ah! I would like to be a fly on the bedchamber wall,’ Gregor chucked.

  ‘Gregor! Of all the outrageous things—’

  ‘It is time I went in. Are you coming or do you stay here?’

  ‘I am coming.’ She just hoped her blushes were not visible under the paint on her face.

  ‘Follow me closely then.’ Gregor strode off into the mouth of the passageway, Lina on his heels.

  The courtyard was lit by flambeaux and the door to the gaming club stood open, noise and light spilling out of it. At the doorway Gregor shed his outer garments, snapped his fingers at her and wandered into the room.

  It took her a minute to see Quinn, sitting at a table in the middle of the room. Her heart contracted in panic as she saw the man opposite him: Reginald Tolhurst. The last time she had seen him he was shouting that she was a thief, that she would be hanged, that—

&nbs
p; The hot, smoky room swam before her eyes. I shouldn’t have come. I can’t do this.

  Quinn looked up and saw her and she knew she was about to confirm all his doubts about bringing her. She was not capable of being an equal partner in his adventures, she was just timid Lina again, terrified of her own shadow. She dragged a panicky breath down into her lungs and braced herself to run.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I must get out of here. Tolhurst will see me, he will know…

  Quinn’s eyes held hers, then something changed. She did not understand what, his expression remained aloof, focused, and yet those hard green eyes softened, looked directly into her and she seemed to hear his thoughts. It is all right. You will be all right.

  Lina gave a shaky nod and he looked back at his opponent and the cards and the panic ebbed away, leaving her shaken but determined. He believes in me.

  ‘Here.’ Gregor thrust a bottle into her hands and wandered vaguely in the direction of Quinn’s table, taking a swig from his wine glass as he went. A rowdy group was playing a game she did not recognise with much slapping down of cards and exchange of money; Gregor stopped close by and watched along with several other men. Lina pressed up behind him, careful not to knock into a table beside them where two sombre men were engaged in a silent game.

  She shifted her position so she could see the table from the shelter of Gregor’s shoulder and found that Quinn was close enough for her to overhear. He had a sizeable pile of guineas and banknotes on the table in front of him and Reginald Tolhurst was sweating.

  ‘Mine, I think.’ Quinn swept the stake money towards himself. ‘Another hand? You’ll be wanting to win some of this back, I’ll be bound. Your luck must change sooner or later; I’m amazed at how well I’m doing. We’ll have a new pack, shall we?’ He sounded almost naïvely enthusiastic.

  ‘Yes. My luck’s bound to change.’ Tolhurst opened the pack and shuffled.