Sari Robins - [Andersen Hall Orphanage 01]

by One Wicked Night

  “My servants seem to have taken you into favor,” she teased, smiling.

  “Yes. Gillman is particularly keen on seeing me fashionably attired.” Sticking a finger into the high collar and yanking on it, he added, “I’m not too comfortable in this, but it will do for today. I don’t want to stand out like too much of a sore thumb when I go to Kane’s club.”

  “Promise me you will be careful,” Lillian implored as she stepped over to him.

  “For the tenth time, Lillian, Kane is not about to do anything to me in his club.”

  “I know. But I still worry.” Anxiety roiled in her middle. If anything happened to Nick…. She swallowed, pushing away the distressing thought. “Thank heavens Russell is going with you.” Someone else to fret about, though.

  “I would not have done it otherwise, but I need Mayburn to get me into Brooks’s. The knave has been practically living at his club. I have no choice but to confront him there.”

  “Why confront him at all, Nick? I still don’t understand what is to be gained from it.”

  “Arrogant bastards often direct us to evidence of their guilt. It’s stupid, but a matter of pride. They like to gloat, trying to show their superiority. If he is as smug as you say, then it’s worth a shot. And we have little time.” His eyes had darkened, and his face had hardened to stone. “Besides, I want him to know he cannot hide behind his dastardly deeds. He is not immune from persecution. He’s not immune from me.”

  Laying her palm on his dear cheek, she murmured, “You will not be of any use to me, Nick, if something happens to you.”

  His face softened, as he too remembered her motherly chiding when he was soaked through from their misadventure at Litchfield Park. Clasping her hands in his, he brushed his lips across her knuckles, whispering huskily, “Your concern moves me, my lady.”

  Her heart contracted with a rush of heretofore unknown feelings for this man.

  “Lillian.”

  Russell stood in the doorway, glaring at them. He was dressed in his usual dandified splendor, from his tall black hat topping golden curls that hung unfashionably long to his shoulders, to the brass-buttoned, high-collared crimson velvet coat, to his white breeches so tight that they could have been shrunk onto his legs, down to his gleaming black Hessian boots.

  Lillian pulled one of her hands from Nick’s and extended it to Russell.

  “Thank you for coming, Russell. Pray that I would not have to involve you in this villainy, but I must call upon you for help.”

  Stepping forward stiffly, he clasped her hand. “How may I be of service?”

  “We believe that Lord Cornelius Kane is behind Lady Langham’s murder,” Nick explained. “And that he is trying to set the blame upon your brother to get at Lillian.”

  The color drained from Russell’s face. “Surely you must be mistaken.”

  “I need your help getting into Brooks’s. I need to speak with him, and that seems to be the best place to find him these days.”

  “I’m not so sure that this is a good idea,” Russell sputtered, fingering the brass buttons of his coat.

  “I need you to be my champion, Russell,” Lillian implored, squeezing his gloved hand. “And watch Nick’s back. Kane is like a serpent, he strikes when one gets too close.”

  Russell swallowed. “You will be telling Kane that you suspect him?”

  “Yes, and inviting him to correct any of my misunderstanding of the facts.” Nick shot Lillian a knowing look. She prayed that he realized what he was doing.

  Russell blinked. “That is most…generous of you. But wouldn’t you wish to call upon the authorities?”

  “This matter is personal,” Nick replied.

  “Yes,” Russell breathed, his eyes filled with understanding. “Personal. Good idea, to give the man the opportunity to set the record straight.”

  She turned to Russell. “Please have a care for your safety. Kane is a fox who eats hounds.”

  His brow furrowed.

  “Just be careful and follow Nick’s lead.”

  “You must remain in the house, Lillian,” Nick ordered, his face gravely serious. “No excursions, no visits to Newgate, not even a call on Fanny.”

  She fought the natural inclination to challenge his command. “You will come back here as soon as you’ve spoken to him?”

  “I’m not sure where Kane’s information might lead me. Let us see how things progress. Just promise that you will remain here.”

  “I promise. And I will take care of getting some of that Cognac to John Newman,” she added. “Fanny had a few bottles more. But don’t worry, I will simply send a footman to handle it.”

  “Thank you.” Bussing her forehead, he released her hand and headed for the door. She felt bereft, uneasy. She prayed that he would come back to her soon.

  “Hey now,” Russell cried, affronted by Nick’s intimate gesture, but Nick ignored him and was gone.

  “The man takes liberties, Lillian!”

  “Leave it be, Russell,” she answered weakly. Her emotions were in such a roil that she had hardly any energy left to deal with Russell’s inappropriate jealousy.

  “I cannot sit by without speaking up.”

  “Your brother’s freedom is Nick’s foremost priority. Let us keep our eye on the target, please, and not get distracted with trivialities.” Even though her feelings for Nick were turning out to be anything but trifling.

  “Your dignity is not trivial. You deserve better than that…that person.” Russell said the word as if it were a disease. “Even my brother is preferable to him. At least he’s of noble blood.”

  She looked up sharply but reined in her irritation. Now was not the time to cross swords with Russell. “You were lucky enough to have been born into a wonderful family, Russell. Others were not as fortunate.”

  “That is my point exactly,” he countered. “You and Redford are worlds apart. You come from a fine family that cares about you.”

  “My only family is dead.”

  “Not all of it. You should learn to appreciate what you have.”

  Had the man cracked? “You are about to go confront my supposed father because he is setting Dillon up for murder!”

  Russell brushed a blond curl from his forehead. “Things are not always as they appear.”

  Setting her hands on her hips, she took a long, hard look at Russell as a whisper of doubt threaded through her mind. “Is there anything you wish to tell me, Russell?”

  “Just that I believe you are allowing Redford to take advantage of you.”

  She crossed her arms. “You have not been to Newgate to visit Dillon. Why not?”

  He stiffened, guilt flashing across his features. “To be frank, I don’t know that I could face the prospect of seeing my brother in such a wretched place.”

  Relief trickled through her, but a trace of doubt lingered. “You never would do anything to hurt Dillon, would you?”

  “Of course not. ‘An enemy to one Mayburn is an enemy to them all,’” he intoned, reciting the Mayburn family motto.

  “Good.” Unwinding her arms, she patted his hand, chiding herself for being so paranoid. “It distresses Dillon that you have not gone to visit him, but he will forgive you after all is said and done. At the end of this wretched affair, he will know your true blue colors. Know how his flesh and blood rose to the occasion and routed his enemies.”

  “We all do what we must.”

  “Come, Nick waits in the carriage,” she urged, walking toward the door.

  Nodding stiffly, he escorted her to the entrance of the house, where the servants had lined up, seemingly understanding that something significant was happening.

  Russell bowed and kissed her hand. “Until we meet again, Lillian.”

  “Have a care, my dear friend.”

  As she stood in the doorway, Lillian watched Russell join Nick in the carriage. Nick nodded, his eyes meeting hers so piercingly that she felt her chest contract. Have a care, my darling, she wished, clutching her h
ands to her breast. What she would have given to have placed herself in danger instead of him.

  As the coach pulled away from the curb, Lillian tried to stanch the pain leaking from her heart.

  Russell’s groin and armpits were sweating. He tried not to squirm too much as he and Redford walked up the stairs at Brooks’s. By jingo, he had to pee. Stealing a peek at the dark brooding oaf beside him, he reckoned that he could hold it for a few more moments.

  On the carriage ride over to the club, Russell had not been able to decide if this confrontation was a good or bad idea. On the one hand, Redford would tell Kane that someone was on to him. On the other, Kane might be furious at Russell for moving without consulting him. But wait. It had not been Russell’s idea to bring Nick. He had had no choice. It was either go along or let Lillian know that something was afoot.

  And she had been suspicious. He was quite pleased with himself for dealing with her so handily. Still, her questions had left him feeling uneasy, like he had eaten a bad egg.

  So Kane could not fault him for this encounter with Redford. Could he? Russell was having difficulty keeping track of exactly what he was supposed to do today. And what Kane might do in response. Did Redford expect him to leave? Perhaps, now that they were inside, he might excuse himself and let Redford go it alone. But should he stay for Kane’s sake? Would Kane expect him to do something? Like what, exactly? Oh, it was all so boggling!

  All of this thinking was giving him a headache, and he wished that he had never got ten up this morning. Setting that fire at the boardinghouse had been more harrowing that he had expected. Only at the last minute had he remembered that he had tied up the old biddy. Then he had had to risk life and limb to go back and un tie her. Not that she’d been thankful, mind you. She had punched him in the chest, and it still hurt in that spot. He wondered if she had made it out after he’d knocked her over. The blaze had been a nasty thing to navigate. Recalling the heat, the flames and that terrible burning in his throat and nose, he shuddered.

  “Don’t worry, Mayburn,” Redford boasted. “I will handle Kane.”

  Cocky bastard.

  They entered the card room with its bare walls and myriad of tables. It carried the familiar scents of beeswax, leather and stale cigar.

  Kane sat with his back toward them, at one of the first tables. The newspaper was spread out before him, and a snifter of brandy rested beside it, near his hand. He was the only one in the room.

  Redford waved for the footmen to leave. Overstepping boor, ordering our servants about, Russell grumbled to himself. Gallingly, the footmen turned heel and scurried away. One just could not count on the help these days.

  They edged forward toward Kane’s expansive shoulders. Russell heard a pounding and wondered what it was. Then he realized it was his heart. You have nothing to be afraid of, he told himself. You are Russell Mayburn, future Duke of Greayston. The thought made his back straighten. Still, he was thankful that he had worn his Weston morning coat today. He’d had the shoulders padded for good measure.

  “Lord Kane,” he declared, with just the right touch of authority.

  “Don’t bother me, Mayburn.” Kane did not even turn.

  Russell eyed that broad back, embarrassment growing in his middle with a sickening twist. That Kane should be so rude in front of lowly Redford. Well, it was too much. “My lord—”

  “If I’ve told you once I’ve told you a thousand times, do not disturb me when I am reading the broadsheets!” He huffed, as if greatly put out. Russell did not have the nerve to look at Redford’s face. Kane flipped the page of his newspaper, growling, “And stop hovering over my back like a blunderbuss. Go away.”

  “I think that that’s a good idea, Mayburn.” Redford stepped forward. “I’ll take it from here.”

  Kane swiveled in his seat. “Who the bloody hell let you in?”

  “Mayburn did me the honor,” Redford supplied, moving around the table and smoothly sitting in the seat across from Kane.

  “Oh, did he now?” Kane glared at Russell, and the youth fought the urge to turn tail and flee.

  Russell puffed out his chest and opened his mouth to declare his good reasons, but Kane gave him his back. Russell closed his mouth, relieved that Redford had Kane’s attention. Sweat had popped up on his nose and he scratched it, irritated.

  “They usually don’t allow bastards in,” Kane sneered. “It’s the stench, I suppose.”

  Russell’s eyes widened.

  “I thought they kept out spongers as well,” Nick retorted. “Tell me, Kane, is it more difficult outrunning the creditors or the constable?”

  Kane’s back stiffened.

  Russell felt overwhelmed by their vicious banter. “I’m…I’m…going to…”

  But they paid him no mind, they were so focused on each other. Slowly, Russell shuffled backwards, toward the door. Perhaps after relieving himself he could go back to Lillian. Redford was out of the house. She would be happy for the company. He would tell her how he had fulfilled his promise, her champion—

  “How does it feel to be swiving another man’s castoffs?” Kane snickered.

  Russell stopped in his tracks.

  “But then again, she’s a randy slut, just like her mother.”

  Russell’s bladder grew more insistent, and he fought the sudden urge to be sick. He had been right about Redford and Lillian? Had things progressed that far? But no, that was not possible! Lillian was too pure, too…Randy slut just like her mother? He stiffened like a bowstring after a shot.

  Redford looked like a storm drawing clouds, on the brink of violence.

  Russell began to tremble, very upset.

  “And just like her mother, she will crumble before me,” Kane declared. “Beaumont couldn’t protect her, and neither can you.” Swiveling in his seat, he crossed his ankles. “You’re nobody, unworthy of even this pithy conversation. You’re too low to even lick my boots. Now get the hell out of here.” Lifting the newspaper, he snapped it open before him, blocking Redford out.

  Redford stood and plucked the broadsheet from Kane’s hands.

  “How dare you!” Kane shrieked.

  Redford slowly ripped the paper in two, the tear earsplitting in the empty chamber. “I know that you killed Lady Langham.”

  The silence was so deafening that Russell could hear his own breathing.

  “I’d like to see you prove it, by-blow,” Kane finally ground out.

  Redford dropped one piece of the paper, and it drifted on a wayward course to the floor. “People are waking up about your shifty investment scheme. The shareholders are talking. Stein is talking.” He tore another section with a loud rip. “The money’s dried up.” Shred. “It’s only a matter of time before we pull the evidence together to hang you.” He dropped the tatters like confetti, polluting the floorboards.

  “Well, time is not a luxury you have,” Kane droned. Russell could tell by his voice that he was smiling. “Beaumont swings in a handful of days. And for Dagwood to come after me then would only mean…Oh, no!” he cried with exaggerated drama, pressing both hands to his cheeks. “He could not have hung the wrong man!”

  “Beaumont hangs over my dead body,” Redford growled.

  “That can and will be arranged. By the way, how are your quarters these days? A boardinghouse on Pryor Street, isn’t it? It’s a shame about the fire.”

  “Not everyone made it out alive, you murdering bugger,” Redford lashed out, his face contorted with fury.

  Russell’s heart skipped a beat. “The old woman,” he whispered.

  Redford’s eyes flicked to him. “What did you say?”

  “Nothing,” Russell muttered, stepping backwards, away from the judgment in his gaze.

  “Too bad you weren’t inside when it burned,” Kane declared. “But, oh, I forgot, you were out, bedding your client’s mistress.”

  Redford’s hostile gaze latched onto Kane. “What did you hope to accomplish? I will not desert Beaumont no matter what you do.”r />
  “Wouldn’t you like to know…”

  The words trailed on, the hard voices grinding at each other, hammering at his brain. Russell rushed from the room, unable to stand it. He felt sick, afraid, confused by all of the words, the harsh innuendo. What was real anymore? Had Lillian betrayed him? Was she so unfaithful as to have taken up with Redford? Her paramour was in prison, and she had hardly waited two weeks before inviting another man to her bed? A lowly wage earner?

  And the old woman. Had she died in the fire? Burned in that horrid, scorching heat that felt like hell licking at your heels? The scent of the ash haunted him still. Was the fire a taste of his afterlife to come?

  Jealousy, anger, fear and guilt swirled inside his gut. Hanging on the banister railing, he vomited all over the stairs.

  He was panting, the foul taste of returned kippers lining his mouth. Sweat blanketed his face and privates. And he could not endure the stench by his feet.

  “My lord!” One of the footmen appeared at the top of the stairs.

  “Clean up this mess,” Russell ordered, feeling like the world was slowly ceasing to spin.

  Wiping a handkerchief across his brow, he realized what he was going to have to do. It was a good thing he had been smart enough to have brought his pistol.

  Straightening his coat, he headed for the door.

  Chapter 26

  Lillian wandered in the back garden with a plate of food for her cat, trying for a semblance of normalcy on this maddening afternoon. She was at her wit’s end for all of the waiting. She was not very proficient at it, she realized. It was a good thing that she had promised Nick that she would remain at home; otherwise, she might have been tempted to get out of the house. As it was, she was ready to yank out her hair from feeling so impotent. Fear for Nick plagued her like a festering wound. She could not ignore it, but the more she picked at it, the more it stung.

  Her black-and-white friend strolled over, brushing his shiny coat along her skirts.