The Match of the Century

by Cathy Maxwell

The man was the landlord. Ben saw no sense in hiding. Besides, he would be discovered soon, so he shut the door.

  Gavin did not act surprised to see him. “Here is your culprit, Monroe. My brother.”

  “Your brother, Your Grace?” Monroe gave Ben a critical eye. “I see a resemblance, but why did he break into my building?”

  “That is a good question,” Gavin answered. “Tell us, Ben, why break the lock when you could have knocked on Monroe’s door as I did and ask for his assistance?”

  Ben had no answer for that, save to say, “I took matters in my own hands.”

  “Send the bill for the lock to me, Monroe,” Gavin said in that tone that conveyed the burdens of a duke were many, a tone Ben detested.

  “No, Monroe, send it to me and accept my apologies. If I had known you were such a splendid gentleman, I would not have damaged your lock.”

  Monroe looked from one to the other as if he were trapped between two lions. “It will take nothing to fix. Why don’t I leave you both alone while I fetch a hammer. Do you mind?”

  “Of course not,” Gavin said at the same time Ben said, “Capital idea.”

  The landlord ran.

  “You frightened him,” Ben commented.

  Gavin’s response was a ducal scowl. “What the bloody hell are you doing here?”

  “That is the question I have for you.”

  “Your answer first.”

  Ben struggled with the childish desire to argue the point, then he thought of Elin. Jousting with his brother was not finding the murderer.

  “I came to discover what I could of Madame Odette . . . or as we now know, Sally. And you?”

  “The same thing.”

  “And you came yourself?” Ben said before he questioned the wisdom of speaking his wonder aloud.

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Gavin threw out as he turned and marched through the curtains the way Ben had.

  “Just commenting. After all, don’t you usually employ Perkins or a half a dozen other men like father did to ferret out information for you?”

  Gavin practically flew back through the curtains. “Stop this nonsense, Ben. I’m not Father. I use Perkins because he is effective. He can discover more in an hour than I could over days of sleuthing.”

  “Then why didn’t you send him?”

  “Always challenging, aren’t you?”

  “I’m my father’s son as well.”

  Gavin swore under his breath, and it was at that moment, that Ben had a moment of recognition. Sniping at Gavin was not what he wanted. He held up a hand. “Listen, I’m sorry. My attitude is uncalled for.”

  Gavin raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “What game is this now, Ben?”

  “I’m being sincere.”

  “Pardon me if I doubt your sincerity.” He charged back through the curtains.

  “You won’t find anything,” Ben called out. “Sally was thorough, just as Monroe said.”

  His brother didn’t answer but began opening and closing the dressing-room doors.

  “I don’t blame you for distrusting me,” Ben continued, speaking to his brother through the curtain. “We haven’t been good friends.”

  There was no response.

  Ben plowed on, “We could probably solve the mystery of the attack on Elin if we work together.” He listened. Gavin was in the shop. “By-the-by, I have a position. I don’t know if you will be surprised or not, but I am going to be part of Liverpool’s staff.”

  “Yes, I know,” came the bored reply. Gavin walked through the curtains, flipping them out of the way with the annoyance Ben had shown. “Liverpool told me.”

  Anger surged through Ben. He tamped it down. He was to be a diplomat, and apparently must start by being diplomatic with his brother. “Is there anything you don’t know?”

  The words still sounded biting, and they, of course, struck Gavin wrong. “No, that is my task in life, to know what my family members will not tell me.”

  “Is there a reason you must know everything?” Ben asked, completely out of curiosity.

  “I am the head of this family,” his brother stated as if that should say everything . . . and perhaps in his mind it did.

  “Father indoctrinated you very well.”

  “He schooled me in what I should know. Which, if I may remind you, is one of the reasons I had for ordering you back to London.”

  “That and wanting to please Mother.”

  “She likes you.”

  “You sound as if you can’t fathom why.”

  Gavin’s answer was a thin smile. He walked out the door. Ben followed.

  Monroe was approaching with a hammer. He took one look at the two brothers and pivoted around toward the building he had just exited.

  “We make him nervous,” Ben observed.

  The duke shrugged.

  Ben faced him. “Say it. Don’t hold in whatever is eating at your gut. I’ve been a bit of a bastard. I admit it. I’ve been headstrong and disobedient.”

  “That is a good start.” There was no humor in Gavin’s voice.

  “I’ve also been true to myself,” Ben continued. “And brutally honest. Can you say the same?”

  “There it is,” Gavin said. “Always the criticism. Always the undermining—”

  “I have never undermined you—”

  “You always do. You wanted to surprise me with your news of Liverpool without understanding he would have come to me directly before he interviewed you. That’s the way matters work, Ben. I didn’t create the world. I just happen to be very good at operating in it.”

  And he was right.

  There was nothing Ben could say. He stood a moment, letting the tide of Gavin’s anger ebb a bit. Finally, he said, “I don’t want to be at cross-purposes with you.”

  Gavin glared as if he spoke gibberish, then the wind went out of his sails as well. “I need a brother. I miss my twin. We were close although since he ran off, everyone supposes that we were at odds. Do you know how many times Father demanded to know what I’d said to Jack to make him want to leave?”

  “Father would have been wiser to have looked in a mirror.”

  For the briefest second, Gavin’s eyes looked watery, but he blinked any emotion back. After all, he was Baynton. “It is of no matter now.”

  Ben held out his hand. “Brother?”

  The air seemed to still between them.

  Gavin frowned at the offered hand . . . then he accepted it. “Brother.”

  “I shall need some practice,” Ben warned him. “We were never a close family. Even the concern from mother astonishes me.”

  “Father was a tartar.”

  Ben couldn’t stop a smile. “He was, may his soul rest in peace. But let’s not make the mistakes he did, Gavin.”

  “An admirable suggestion . . . save for Elin between us. You saw her last night, didn’t you?”

  “Was Perkins watching me?”

  “No, I was.” He shrugged and amended his statement. “Elin disappeared for quite some time.”

  “Did she say where?” Ben asked carefully.

  “I didn’t ask. But you were there, weren’t you? You saw her.”

  Ben didn’t answer. He didn’t need to.

  “Elin probably believes I am oblivious to her. I’m not, Ben. I know what a remarkable woman she is.”

  “That is the crux, isn’t it, Gavin? We want the same woman. You have her, and I love her.”

  “I love her as well,” Gavin answered, but he spoke quickly and without conviction.

  Do you even know what love is? Ben wanted to fire back, but that would upset the fragile alliance between them. “Actually, she could use both of us,” Ben heard himself say. “Someone attempted to murder her.”

  “I’ve had Perkins on it.”

  “Has he learned anything?”

  “Nothing. He has been here as well.” Gavin nodded toward the open shop door. “He told me the place was vacant, but I had to try. He also combed the wharves last night for wor
d of—what was his name? The leader?”

  “Darby.”

  “Yes, Darby. Again, no information. The man hadn’t been seen with anyone other than his usual mates.”

  Ben swore under his breath, then he remembered something. “I asked Elin who stood to gain in case of her death.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was tired. We were on the move trying to avoid Darby and his ilk. At the time, she said she couldn’t think of anyone. If she was married, we would look at the husband.”

  “Aye, because with her death, he would be a wealthy man.”

  “So we know it isn’t you because you would be foolish to kill her before the marriage.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Anytime, Brother.” Ben took a few steps away, working the puzzle in his head, then said, “Robbie. Her cousin.”

  “Robbie? He would only gain if Fyclan and Elin died.”

  “Fyclan hasn’t been looking well.”

  “No, his wife’s death almost destroyed him. Watching him has given me an appreciation for Mother’s strength. She carried on smartly after Father died.”

  “Mother’s physician is attending him. What does he say?”

  “He can find no cause other than deep grief. Frankly, he has been worried. He warned me that many men do not survive the death of a beloved spouse. However, last night, Fyclan appeared in better spirits.”

  “Mother may have had something to do with that.”

  Gavin chuckled. “She may have. She’s always been fond of him. It would make sense if a tendre sprang between her and Fyclan.”

  “Why, Gavin, you are a romantic.”

  His brother shook his head to deny it, but he was comical in his embarrassment.

  “Don’t worry,” Ben told him. “Your secret is safe with me.”

  “I don’t have a secret.”

  Ben laughed, then stopped abruptly. “What if whoever attacked Elin was expecting Fyclan to die soon? Perhaps even be pushed in that direction by the murder of his daughter?”

  “The man is only in his sixties.”

  “Indulge me,” Ben said to his brother. “If we remove both Elin and Fyclan, then who gains?”

  “Robbie. He is Fyclan’s only relative and, I assume, would be heir to his fortune.”

  “If Elin died without a husband.”

  Gavin frowned. “Here is my problem with your theory. Fyclan raised Robbie as if he were his own. He educated him. I’ve worked with him. I can’t see the man I know arranging for the murder of that many people. And why? He has been at Fyclan’s side all these years. Fyclan made him a rich man.” He paused, then added thoughtfully, “Of course, that might just be an impression. Everyone believed Father was wealthy as well.”

  “He wasn’t?”

  “He made bad investments. I didn’t know how disastrous the family books were until I inherited. Furthermore, Father spent money like a madman. Building the garden park at Trenton cost a king’s ransom. I had my hands full trying to right what he’d undone. Of course, Fyclan helped me.”

  This was stunning news to Ben. He’d assumed everything his brother had inherited had been right and in order. “Had Fyclan suggested the bad investments to Father?”

  “He knew nothing about them. However, someone must have talked to Father. He wasn’t one for dirtying his hands over such matters.”

  The door to the building next to the dress shop opened, and Mr. Monroe, with a beleaguered expression on his face, came out followed by a well-endowed woman in a lace mobcap and fichu over her shoulders. The landlord still carried the hammer he was planning to use to fix the lock on the door.

  “Your Grace,” he started, pulling his hat off his head in the manner of a supplicant, while the woman stood back, trembling with excitement, “this is my wife, Dotty. She has heard much about you, Your Grace, and I hope don’t mind, but she would like to pay her respects.” He lowered his voice, and said, “Please, Your Grace, help me. She can be as insistent when she wants something.”

  Sounding confused, Gavin said, “Of course.”

  He’d barely had the words out before Dotty came mincing forward. She curtsied and Ben was certain a finer curtsy had never been made. The woman almost brought her head to the ground and stayed there.

  Embarrassed, Gavin said, “Please come up, Mrs. Monroe.” When she had difficulty, he did the gentlemanly thing and helped her.

  Quivering, rapid breaths came from Dotty. She gazed at Gavin with nothing short of complete, loving admiration. “You are as handsome as they say, Your Grace. More so.”

  “Thank you,” Gavin murmured, inching away from her.

  “There now, Dotty,” Monroe said, “go on. I did what you wanted; now see to my supper.”

  “Oh, but doesn’t His Grace want to ask me questions about the dressmaker? Isn’t that why you said he was here? Sally and I became friends of sorts for a while.”

  Now she had both Ben’s and Gavin’s attention. “Close friends?” Ben asked.

  “For a while,” she answered.

  “What came between you?” Ben wondered.

  “Oh, she took on airs. Dressmaking wasn’t her true business—”

  “Dotty,” her husband said in a warning voice. “His Grace doesn’t want to hear gossip. Besides, I’ve already told him that.”

  “But I’m always willing to hear more,” Gavin answered. “Tell me everything you know about Sally.”

  “Well, I know she’d found a benefactor and wasn’t planning on dressmaking any longer.”

  “Really?” Gavin said. “Do you know who her benefactor was?”

  “I only saw him once. They would have lovers’ meetings away from here. After being with him for a while, Your Grace, she felt she was too good for me and everyone else.”

  “But you set eyes on her lover?” Ben prodded.

  “Once. He was a good-looking man even though he was only a bit taller than me. He had sandy colored hair, although it was red around the ears, and a strong nose.”

  Her description matched many men. It also matched Robbie Morris.

  “Did she ever speak a name?” Gavin asked.

  “No, Your Grace. She was very secretive about him. Not like she’d been with the others she entertained. Very full of herself. I believe she expected him to marry her, but he was already married. I told her not to be a fool, but she said I didn’t know a thing, and now I learn she is dead. A sad tale.”

  “And you can’t recall her ever using this man’s name?” Gavin pressed.

  “I’m so sorry, Your Grace. She was careful about him.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Monroe.” Gavin took her hand and bowed over it. “We appreciate your sharing your knowledge.

  The woman almost swooned while tossing an I-told-you-so glance at her husband.

  “Enough, Dotty,” Monroe said. “Upstairs now. You’ve had what you wanted.”

  She nodded happily and did as bid, backing up so that her adoring gaze never left Gavin’s face.

  “I’m sorry, Your Grace, but once my wife knew you were out here, well, she was like a cat begging for a taste of cod. Pestering me and pestering me. Of course,” he confided, “she’ll now be very nice to me, if’n you know what I mean, Your Grace.”

  Gavin appeared speechless. Ben took pity on him. “He knows, Monroe, he knows. Come, brother,” he said, tugging on Gavin’s sleeve. “Let us leave the good Monroe to his supper and his wife.”

  “Yes,” Gavin agreed with great relief, and strode purposefully from the alley.

  Once they were out of sight of Monroe, Ben doubled over laughing.

  “It isn’t that funny,” Gavin muttered.

  Ben’s answer was to open his eyes wide, mimicking Dotty’s, and gazing at Gavin in such a way, his brother gave him a shove on the arm.

  “I can’t help it if I am better-looking than you,” Gavin said.

  “A freak of nature,” Ben agreed amiably, and that startled a laugh out of Gavin, who tried to recover himself and couldn�
��t. Indeed, he laughed as hard as Ben did.

  All of the resentment and grievances Ben had harbored against his brother fell away. He saw Gavin not as a rival—indeed, not even as a competitor for Elin—but as someone trying to do his best against impossible expectations.

  Of course, Gavin couldn’t ever relax completely. He was Baynton. If the House of Lords didn’t have demands of him, the Fashionable World and Dotty did. Ben could feel a bit sorry for him. Ben preferred his freedom.

  “Let’s talk to Robbie Morris,” Gavin suggested. “If nothing more, I’d like to hear what he has to say. My vehicle is around the next corner,” Gavin said. “My tiger is walking the horses.”

  “You brought the phaeton?”

  “Of course I did. I don’t have opportunity enough to drive it.”

  “If you call what you do driving,” Ben had to say. In truth, Gavin was a notable whip—but a brother had to tease a brother.

  “Scoundrel,” Gavin replied without heat.

  “Cod,” Ben returned, and they both laughed at the name.

  They set off to pay a call on Robbie Morris who generally could be found at this hour of the day with Fyclan.

  Elin could think of nothing save Ben.

  A little over two years ago, she had sat at this dressing table in her bedroom, looking into this mirror, and had asked her mother how could she be dishonest with Baynton?

  Back then, her question had been asked about a youthful indiscretion . . . something she now realized had not been a mistake. No matter what her parents had told her, she’d belonged to Ben, even back then. When she was apart from him, she felt as if she was missing a necessary half of her being.

  And when she was with him, the world felt right.

  Elin had to cry off. It was easier for a woman to cry off than it was a gentleman although jilting an important person like the duke, especially for his brother, would cause talk.

  But Elin was discovering it no longer mattered if people talked or not. She and Ben could live at Heartwood, and if her father would not let her live under his roof, then they would return to the forest.

  Elin rose from the dressing table. She was dressed in a blue day gown trimmed with tiny ribbon flowers. Her maid, a girl assigned from the staff, had piled her curls high on her head.

  The time had come to be honest with her father.