“No one but you would ever dare.”
She nodded, mollified. “Now that we’ve established that I will repay you, I ought to get back to Flick.”
He crossed the room, pulled her into his arms and offered her a disappointingly brief kiss. “You’re quite charming when you’re angry.”
“You can’t know that because you’ve never seen me angry.” She paused. “Not really.”
He had. He’d seen her yesterday when she first discovered Morris’s treachery but he obviously didn’t want to remind her about that.
“I shall be away for the next couple of days,” he said. “I’m only in the way here, what with all this chaos. Send word through Cowling if you need me. He always knows where I am.”
“Very well,” she said, gulping back her disappointment. She had been hoping that her second lesson would come about sooner than that. Still, she supposed a gentleman with his responsibilities had matters of greater import to occupy his time.
“Don’t worry,” he said, as though reading her mind. “I haven’t forgotten our engagement.”
“Whereas I have barely spared it a thought.”
He chuckled, clearly not deceived. “I will make the necessary arrangements very soon and send you word.”
She wriggled out of his embrace and left the room, resigning herself to waiting as patiently as she could.
But patience had never been Leah’s strong suit.
Chapter Fifteen
Hal gave Leah a moment to clear the vicinity of his study and then left the room himself, in search of his brother Rob. Together they made their way to the stables, claimed their horses and rode to the Boar. The wherry awaited them on the shingle beach.
“I hope you can talk him out of this?” Rob said as they were rowed towards The Celandine. “He’s got himself into a right state and won’t listen to me.”
“We’ll see.”
They boarded the ship and made their way straight to Jean-Philippe’s cabin. They found him pacing about the enclosed space like a caged tiger. Marcel Martell seemed relieved when Hal and Rob appeared, presumably because they would now be the focal point for Jean-Philippe’s ire. Sure enough, the young man whirled to face them, his handsome face pinched with anger.
“Ah, so you are come at last, Monsieur le Marquess. I began to think you had abandoned me.”
“Good morning, Jean-Philippe,” Hal said amiably.
“How would I know if it’s a good morning, or indeed morning at all for that matter, being cooped up here all day?”
“You’re perfectly at liberty to stretch your legs on deck.”
“Bah, that’s not much better. I am sick and tired of looking at the sea.”
“It won’t be for much longer,” Hal assured him.
“So you keep saying.” Jean-Philippe thumped his fist against the wall. “But nothing happens. I shall go mad if I have to stay here for another day.”
“Your time here is drawing to an end. We’ve thought of a way to draw the murderer out.”
“Tell me what you intend.”
Jean-Philippe became less sullen when Hal explained about the ball.
“That’s an inspired idea! Action, at last. I shall attend, of course, and—”
“No,” Hal said. “It wouldn’t be safe for you to be there.”
“Only I can recognize the murderer,” he pointed out smugly.
“The murderer, if he attends, will try to sneak upstairs and find you. We shall have people looking out for him.” Hal spoke with finality. “Safer that way.”
“Mon dieu!” Jean-Philippe threw his hands in the air and scowled. “This is insupportable.”
“We’re trying to keep you alive,” Rob reminded him.
“You think I’m a coward, Lord Robert? That I cannot defend myself?”
“Not at all, but you must understand that—”
“How many times must I tell you? It wasn’t a nobleman who did the deed, but one of his minions. A trusted minion, who will almost certainly attend with his master if they think there’s any chance of my being there.” His expression closed down. “He will be required to deal with me in the same manner as my father.”
“Precisely my point,” Rob muttered.
“I will keep to the shadows, watch the servants come and go, and identify him that way.”
Hal and Rob exchanged a speaking look. “Very well, Jean-Philippe,” Hal said. “You and Monsieur Martell can attend, but only under certain conditions.”
The spoiled young Frenchman’s dark mood lifted faster than morning sea mist. “Whatever you require of me,” he said, bowing to Hal. “I am entirely at your service.”
Hal spelled out the conditions under which he would allow his visitor to come ashore on the day of the ball. “You must stay in the guarded room upstairs until all the guests are arrived. Rob or I will come and get you, just before the supper interval. You can then observe the servants from a safe location and advise me when you see the man who killed your father.” Hal hesitated. “If you see him.”
“Très bon,” Jean-Philippe agreed without hesitation. “I will do as you ask.”
Satisfied that the young buck would behave himself, Hal stood, bringing the meeting to an end. “Go ahead to the wherry,” Hal said to Rob. “I need a brief word with Wright.”
Hal tracked his bosun down and succinctly outlined his requirements. If Wright was surprised by them he showed no sign of it. He merely flashed a salacious grin and saluted Hal.
“Fine by me,” he said.
“You could have told me you’d had a change of heart about the lad coming to the ball,” Rob said as they were rowed back to land.
“I hadn’t, not for sure. I wanted to test his mood for myself first.” Hal glanced skywards, taking a moment to formulate his thoughts. “He’s a spoiled young pup, used to having his own way. He would have heard about the ball some other way if we didn’t tell him ourselves and would probably have tried to do something rash.”
“I suppose you’re right. He’s not actually a prisoner, and if he really gets fed up with being cooped up on The Celandine, there’s no telling what mad scheme he might dream up.”
“Precisely. Anyway, he’ll have Martell to rein him in. That man’s a strong protector and loves the boy, perhaps a little too well—”
Rob quirked a brow. “You think they’re sodomites?”
“Don’t you?”
“Can’t say I’d really thought about it.”
“What constantly occupied your thoughts when you were Jean-Philippe’s age?”
“The same thing that does now.” Rob laughed. “You’re right, though. He hasn’t once asked for the services of a wench.”
“Precisely.” Hal nodded. “Martell won’t allow any harm to come to his protégé.”
“Let’s hope so.”
“If Jean-Philippe’s at the Hall, it means we can have most of the crew there as well, helping to protect him.”
“Good point,” Rob said approvingly. “They’re trustworthy and loyal to a man. If anyone can keep Jean-Philippe safe, it’s them.”
They waded to shore from the wherry. Rob had business in town but Hal reclaimed his horse and headed for Dover. He had another appointment to keep.
He rode fast, reaching the Bell Inn an hour and a half later. He surrendered his sweating horse to the ostler, who ran forward to claim it, and strode into the inn. Parsons, as instructed, was waiting for him in a private parlour. Hal didn’t want to be recognized by acquaintances, or for their discussion to be overheard. Once food and ale had been provided and the door closed against inquisitive eyes, Hal got right down to business.
“What news of your investigation, Parsons?” he asked.
“Morris is a slippery eel, and no mistake,” his investigator grumbled. “He lives above his secondhand bookshop in Brighton and runs his sorry excuse for a newspaper out of the back room. All sorts of dubious-looking characters are in and out all day, but most of them go through the back door.”
“I see.” Hal leaned back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose in thoughtful contemplation. “Do you think he’s transferred his blackmailing scheme to Brighton?”
“No, m’lord. I intercepted one of the coves who I’d seen go in the back way several times. Bought him a pint of ale and soon got the whole story.” Hal smiled. His investigator was nothing if not resourceful. “Our friend Morris has deviated into moneylending.”
Hal sat a little straighter. “The devil he has! Charging a pretty penny in interest too, unless I miss my guess.”
“So my hapless drinking companion would have me believe. He borrowed a guinea two months past and now owes three. The wretched man doesn’t have a hope in hell of repaying the debt, so Morris uses him to strong-arm other debtors. The man hates what he’s doing but fears Morris too much to refuse. He reckons Morris wouldn’t think twice about harming his family if he doesn’t do as he’s told.”
From what Hal knew of the man, he wasn’t surprised to hear it. “Morris probably saw how profitably the Jewish community handled such matters in London but knew better than to try and encroach upon their business there.”
“That’s what I reckoned.” Parsons helped himself to a third slice of ham.
“I’d very much like to get into Morris’s premises, especially his living quarters, to see what gems he has hidden there. People of his ilk always keep evidence, records.” Hal needed definite proof that he had in fact sold on Leah’s father’s books. “But if he never leaves the place—”
“I only said he didn’t leave the premises during business hours. As soon as he closes up, he often spends the evening in a nearby tavern. I real imbiber, he is.”
“Excellent! Can you set one of your men to keep him in ale whilst you take a look round?”
“Certainly I can. What am I looking for?”
* * *
Leah immersed herself in the preparations for the ball. She and Beth spent the next two days at the Hall, taking their meals with Flick, continuously occupied with the myriad arrangements necessary to make the event a success. They saw Lord Robert occasionally, Lord Gabriel rather more often, but of Hal there was no sign at all.
“It astonishes me,” Beth said, as they returned to the gatehouse late on the third day, “how much can be accomplished when one has an army of servants at one’s disposal.”
“Not to mention money and influence,” Leah added, wearily casting her bonnet aside. After all the bustle and excitement at the Hall, to say nothing of Flick’s infectious enthusiasm, she was looking forward to a quiet evening with just her sister for company.
“The excitement has rejuvenated me,” Beth said, smiling. “I feel quite myself again.”
“Perhaps the improvement has something to do with a certain handsome young man who appears to enjoy your company.”
Beth blushed deeply. “Lord Gabriel is merely being polite,” she said quickly, addressing the comment to her folded hands.
“Have a care, Beth. I wouldn’t see you hurt.”
Beth kissed her sister and scurried off to her room. Leah watched her go and sighed. It was all her fault. She had encouraged Beth to think that she could marry well. And indeed she could. But Leah had been thinking more of the middle classes—a solicitor, perhaps, a merchant or even a curate. Impecunious daughters of a disgraced tutor simply did not marry marquesses’ brothers.
Or marquesses, for that matter.
“This came for you,” Meg said, appearing from the direction of the kitchen and handing over a folded and sealed note.
“Thank you, Meg.”
“Aye well, supper’s almost ready.” Meg waddled away, leaving Leah to read her note in solitude. She glanced at it, instinctively knowing who it must be from, even though he hadn’t used the Denby seal. She tore it open, her heart racing with anticipation when she read the brief message.
Have Leon come to the Boar at dusk.
It was signed with a flourishing H.
Tiredness was replaced with a maelstrom of very different emotions as anticipation coursed through her. Would he really arrange for her to watch others making love? She really didn’t see how that could be achieved. Had they been in London it might have been different but this was just a small village. Even so, he had promised and Hal wasn’t the sort of man to go back on his word.
His lordship might have power and influence but Leah was fast learning that she had a few devices of her own that she fully intended to deploy. Hal had been aroused—very aroused—during the interlude in his study. The bulge in his breeches had been impossible to ignore. Power surged through her as she recalled the heady feeling that knowledge afforded her at the time. Hal desired her and she intended to exploit that weakness to her own advantage. Hal might be determined that he wouldn’t play the part of Charles to her Fanny.
She was equally determined that he would.
The sisters ate supper together but Beth appeared preoccupied. She didn’t seem to notice that Leah barely spoke and retired almost as soon as she was replete.
“Don’t come to the Hall tomorrow if you’re still fatigued.” Leah brushed the hair from her sister’s forehead and kissed her goodnight. “You’re overexerting yourself.”
“Nonsense, I’m having a fabulous time. Stop worrying so! A good night’s sleep is all that’s necessary to set me straight.”
Which was precisely what Leah wouldn’t be getting.
As soon as Beth’s door closed, Leah changed into her disguise and, taking advantage of Meg’s absence from the kitchen, quietly let herself out the side door. Pickle looked up from his place in front of the kitchen fire and wagged his tail. Leah held a finger to her lips and he immediately settled back to his slumbers. Perhaps it wasn’t wise to venture out alone but in spite of Mrs. Wilkinson’s concerns, this was still a fairly quiet village. She hadn’t been accosted thus far since, from a distance at least, her disguise was convincing and no one would pay much attention to a scruffy lad. Once she had covered the short distance to the Boar, she could rely upon Hal’s protection.
She made her way rapidly to that establishment in the dwindling light. Hal stepped up behind her before she’d even reached her destination, dressed as casually as he always did when frequenting the local hostelry. She took a moment to examine him, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks as he smiled that slow, deliberate smile of his that promised so much and affected her all the way to her toes.
“Are we going to The Celandine?” she asked.
“No.”
“There how?” Did he mean to go back on his word? “Don’t imagine that I—”
“Shush!” He took her hand and led her to the opposite side of the tavern, ensuring that they stayed in the shadow. An external staircase she hadn’t noticed before led directly to the upper floors.
“This way,” he said.
She followed him up the stairs, her heart thudding painfully against her chest. She was nervous, curious, even a little afraid, but not once did she consider turning back. Hal had arranged this exhibition at her request and she very much wanted to see it.
“Are you still sure?” he asked, turning to face her as they reached the top of the steps.
“Absolutely sure.”
“Very well.”
She followed him into a dim corridor with closed doors on either side. He opened one of them and stood back to let her precede him into a modest bedchamber. Completely alone.
“How?” she asked, instinctively whispering.
“In the same way as Fanny and Phoebe.”
He led her to the wall adjoining the next room and pointed to gaps in the boards. She peered through one that suited her height and saw a mirror image of the room they occupied. It too was empty.
“Have patience,” he said, turning away from his own spyhole, set higher in the wall. “The players will be here directly.” He reached for a bottle of wine she hadn’t previously noticed on a table behind the door and poured them each a glass.
“You appear
to have thought of everything,” she said, taking a healthy sip in the hope that it would dispel her sudden shyness.
“I aim to please,” he said, with a mock bow.
He’d bowed, he’d plied her with wine, but he had yet to touch her. Leah was sure that if he did, she would no longer feel quite so unsure of herself.
“Are those gaps in the boarding deliberate?”
“Naturally. You’re not the only one with a healthy curiosity. The landlord makes a good profit from customers with voyeuristic dispositions.”
“Presumably with the prior knowledge and consent of the participants.”
“Absolutely. There’s nothing new about this. It’s been happening for centuries. I blame Eve myself. If she had resisted that apple—”
“What a typically male opinion,” she said, sniffing.
“The Hall is a warren of concealed passages,” Hal said, laughing at her feigned disapproval. “Some devised with such purposes as this in mind. Others as hiding places.”
“I thought they were escape routes for past generations disloyal to the king.”
He chuckled. “That too.”
“You hid in one on that first occasion when I visited with Mrs. Wilkinson. I saw you at the window when we left.”
“Ah well then, I plead guilty and must throw myself on your mercy.” He looked amused by the prospect of being at anyone’s mercy. Leah doubted if it had ever happened before, nor would it now. “There is even a long passageway that leads from my study all the way to the dower house.”
Leah wrinkled her brow. “Whatever for?”
“Rumour has it that my great-great-grandfather set his mistress up in that abode and was able to visit her whenever the mood struck without getting his boots dirty.”
Leah laughed. “Ah, the power of amour,” she said softly.
“Talking of which...” He took the glass from her hand and led her back to the wall. “There’re here.”
He must have supernatural senses since Leah hadn’t heard anyone arrive. She felt her cheeks warm, and then the rest of her body as anticipation roiled through her. So too did doubt. Should she really do this? If she didn’t say she’d had a change of heart right now, it would be too late.
Compromising the Marquess Page 19