The head groom came out to take charge, and Meryon stepped down from the seat and turned to face his pursuer. The groom had moved the conveyance into the stable when two men came up from Meryon’s back, grabbing his arms and twisting them up behind him.
Their leader came to him with a satisfied smile, and pushed Meryon’s hat off.
“Good evening to you, Duke. It’s time for you to learn not to pick a fight with someone bigger and stronger than you.” The smell of bad teeth and worse food made it an effort for Meryon not to turn his head.
“I’ll grant you taller and bigger, you buffoon, but not smarter.” Wilson must be around somewhere. Meryon rather enjoyed an uneven fight, but not this uneven. If the fools would let go of him he would match them punch for punch.
“You know who I am,” Meryon said, playing for time.
“Been thinking about doing this awhile now, you stuffed-up piece of dog meat. Been following you all day, had a nice rest while you and your whore were at that little house. Followed you all the way back to Russell Square. When you went into the park I thought I was all set, but those fools thought you were worth saving.”
“Your first mistake.”
As the bully pulled out a knife, Meryon lifted his foot and pushed up and back, making contact with the soft part of one of the men behind him. The man let go of Meryon’s arm with a howl and doubled over. The one who held his other arm let go as well, smart enough to figure out that he would be next.
Now seemed an excellent time for his side to show up, Meryon thought. Three against one he could handle. But not three and a knife. Someone wanted to see him dead, maimed, or scared witless.
“You two, stay back; I can take this fop,” the bully called out when Meryon could hear the men running away.
Better, much better odds now.
The dusk made it harder to see, but the first lunge was impossible to miss. The man had no skill and would rely on his larger size. Meryon risked the move to pick his hat up from the ground and use it as shield. It lasted for about a minute. He’d liked that hat, damn it.
The next swipe and Meryon took a cut to his coat, but he was able to grab the bully’s wrist and twist it so that the knife clattered on the cobblestones.
“A fop, am I? I just disarmed you. What does that make you? A nancy boy, I’d guess, and those two keep you happy when you can convince them to stay around.”
The bully roared and charged him. As Meryon stepped aside, Wilson came running from the back of the house with three of the grooms. And Magda. Meryon waved off the grooms, but Magda came charging, barking furiously.
Meryon allowed the distraction a moment too long. The bully wrapped his arms around him from behind and picked him up. The man did have size on his side. Wherever he landed Meryon knew it would hurt. Magda yapped at the bully’s heels, and he raised one foot and kicked the dog so hard that she flew across the alley. With one pained yelp Magda fell in a heap.
“Magda!” Wilson screamed. “You bastard. You son of a bitch. I’m gonna kill you.” Wilson ran to the bully, yelling an impressive string of obscenities. The boy jumped on the attacker’s back and began pummeling him with his hands, pulling his ears and reaching around to scratch the man’s eyes out.
The bully dropped Meryon and gave all his attention to shaking the boy off his back. The drop was harmless, but before Meryon could gain his feet, the sound of a pistol caught the attention of everyone except Wilson, who was getting the best of the man four times his size.
“See to Magda, Wilson. Now.” Meryon used his voice of authority, and the boy dropped off the bully’s back and ran over to the fallen spaniel.
Garrett came out from the back garden, one pistol smoking, the other cocked and ready.
“Your Grace, your dinner is waiting. I will take care of the uninvited.”
Meryon nodded and went over to Magda. Wilson hovered over the dog. “I don’t see any blood but I think she’s dead.”
“No. I can see her breathing. Let me carry her into the house and we will send for the senior groom to examine her. He doesn’t work in the stable anymore but he will know what to do.”
Wilson stayed close as Meryon picked up the dog as gently as he could. By the time they were inside, Meryon could feel the weight of her, but Magda was still breathing.
No sooner had they reached the senior groom’s quarters when Rexton caught up with them, out of breath from racing down from the nursery. The boy insisted that Wilson repeat every detail of the fight.
It took two hours to revive the dog and to calm Wilson, who kept trying to explain that the grooms had been at supper. The senior groom felt no broken bones or swelling of blood and thought that the dog might survive.
“Mind you she’s likely to nip at you and growl if she’s still in pain, so do not think to pet her until she comes to you.”
Both boys nodded.
“And you come to me if you start to worry or anything changes.”
The old man winked at Meryon, who tried not to smile as he thanked him.
Meryon had changed his clothes for dinner before the butler informed him that the meal would be late due to upset in the household. Either Cook was taking advantage of the incident as a show of power, or everyone loved Magda more than they feared the duke.
Meryon stopped in to see Magda, who was resting in an elaborate dog bed, her eyes closed but her tail thumping every now and then. The boys sat nearby, their attention split between a game of checkers and Magda. Without disturbing them and with a word to the nurse about Wilson’s presence, Meryon headed down to his study.
He prepared a pen, smoothed some paper, and twenty minutes later was still staring at the blank sheet as he thought over the attack in the mews.
Bendas was intent on doing what he had failed to do the morning of the duel, and confronting him would mean nothing but lies and public spectacle.
He would talk to the viscount, Meryon decided. It was the least he owed Lord William after his help last year.
Picking up the pen again, Meryon smoothed the piece of paper, creamy white with the Meryon crest on it. The words to the viscount came easily enough. Short and to the point. If Lord William cared at all about the future of the Bendasbrook family and fortune he would see him as soon as he returned from Kent.
Meryon still had to write to Elena, and he knew those words would not come as quickly. When Garrett knocked on the door, Meryon was relieved to have an excuse to delay the note. Meryon poured both of them a brandy and offered Garrett a chair on the other side of his desk. “It appears you found out what you needed to know without resorting to brutality.”
“We talked.”
Meryon waited, rolling his glass between his hands, warming the brandy.
“The grooms found the other two hiding in one of the storage buildings. They’re frustrated. Even the bully. They want work. They need money to feed their families.”
“Go on.”
“I told them that breaking the law and ending up in jail would hardly guarantee their families’ future.”
“That’s the truth, Garrett. But we both know they need more than that.”
“It’s amazing how useful those old army skills are.”
Meryon raised his glass in salute. “I take it they are more bruised than you are.”
“Your Grace. I’m a man of God now.” Garrett saluted his brother-in-law in return. “I offered them money if they would tell me who put them up to this.”
“Ah.”
“Yes, they really did not have much of an idea. They said a gentleman came to them and offered them money if they beat you up. The worse off you were the more they would be paid. He gave them one guinea as a mark of good faith.”
“Bendas.” Meryon was sure of it. And annoyed that he’d never considered Bendas would try something like this.
“Or one of Bendas’s minions did it on his orders. The bully, whose name is Reese, described a mature man but not an old or crippled one. DeBora or Rogers, I would guess.�
� Garrett’s expression turned even more solemn. “Lyn, Reese was told that if you should die of your wounds there would be no consequences.”
Meryon took some brandy to ease his anger. “That is fascinating, Garrett. This is the first clue I’ve had that Bendas is fighting back. In his style, which is indirect and illegal. I should not be surprised.”
“But you are.”
“Yes,” Meryon said.
“I warned you no good would come of this.”
“Stop sounding like a Greek chorus. I am not the one contemplating murder. Bendas is.”
“What will you do now?”
“Protect myself, my family, and my staff, by pushing harder to bring Bendas to justice. I’ve sent a note for William Bendasbrook to come see me as soon as he returns to town.”
“All right. I am expected back at Pennford soon, but I can stay if it will help.”
“No. No. I can defend myself if Reese and his friends come back. Wilson will be on the watch. And the boy fights. Not with any skill, but he is ferocious.” He considered Wilson, Reese and his friends, and the crowds of unhappy people he had seen at Russell Square today. “What we do not need is someone like Bendas, urging attacks on the ton. That will lead nowhere but to trouble.”
“Those people are not Jacobins, Meryon. They are men looking for work and a way to feed their families.”
“Which, I imagine, is exactly what the French aristocrats first said about the Jacobins.”
29
GABRIEL AND HIS WIFE had gone to the theater, which left Meryon and Garrett to have a late dinner together.
Meryon went to his suite determined to write the note and send it before he saw Signora Verano again. It was the most urgent charge on his time but not the most important.
Garrett had gone out as well, and Meryon would bet his favorite stickpin that Garrett would make the rounds of the parties and see what stories The Gossips bandied about regarding tonight’s incident. Meryon had no doubt The Gossips would hear through that mysterious manner of communication they kept such a tight secret.
Moving as quietly as always, his valet left wine at the duke’s right hand.
“Blix.”
The valet turned around, his face an obsequious mask. “Yes, Your Grace?
“Did you hear of my experiences today?”
“Yes, Your Grace. The boy, Wilson, had everyone’s attention at supper and made the most of his moment. He said that you single-handedly rescued a woman in distress and beat off several men who would have done her injury and, later in the mews and with Magda’s help, bested the same ruffians who came looking for revenge.”
“That is more imagination than truth, Blix.” Meryon rubbed his forehead as he spoke.
“I do not doubt your words, Your Grace, but your clothes were in a disreputable state.”
“Part of my disguise, so no one would think that I was an agent provocateur or, worse, an aristocrat.”
“Very well, Your Grace.”
He turned to leave and Meryon smiled. He might lose a valet tonight, but he was curious.
“Blix, tell me, do you have an opinion on the current state of the economy?”
Blix had his hand on the doorknob, but he let go of it and turned around.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
“Explain it to me.”
Meryon wanted to laugh out loud at the shock on his valet’s face.
“You want my opinion, Your Grace?”
“Yes.”
“I read the papers.”
“You are the second person to say that to me since noon today. Does what you read help you form an opinion?” This was like teaching Rexton to play chess. Laborious. He was not sure it was worth the effort.
“No, Your Grace.” Blix stared at his shoes for a long moment and Meryon decided his valet’s answer might be worth his patience after all. “In fact, Your Grace, I was in Russell Square today.”
“You were?” Now it was his turn for shock. Was that the slightest bit of bravado he heard in his valet’s voice?
“Yes. I was curious.”
Meryon wondered what that meant. “Tell me what you thought of the speeches.”
“The crowd was more impressive than the speeches. There were so many people, and one must assume they were out of work. I had no idea there were that many people desperate for a position.”
Meryon folded his hands on the top of his desk and leaned across them. “If they are desperate for work, then soon they will be desperate for food and shelter.”
“Absolutely true, Your Grace.” Blix took a step closer to the duke and there was definitely enthusiasm in his voice now. “Does Parliament have a plan?”
“Not that I know of, but I do. I am preparing a bill to provide food and shelter and training for widows and orphans.”
“But we have the poorhouses.”
“Which are woefully inadequate and tend to perpetuate the problem. Training is the important part of this proposal. Train them how to do the work that is springing up everywhere, in factories especially.”
Blix nodded but did not seem willing to commit himself any further.
“Change is in the wind, Blix, and we are fools if we think that life will stay the same. We will always be a country of farmers, but the farm must learn to coexist with the new manufacturing enterprises. The best we can hope for is that we can control it before it takes control of us. My proposal for care and training is aimed at that. If I can convince those who invest in manufacturing to support the care and training, the project will be self-sustaining.”
“It’s an excellent idea, Your Grace. It could work. But first you have to convince the others in Parliament.”
“Well, I made the first step tonight.” Meryon leaned back and folded his arms across his chest. “I convinced you. I want you to know that I would welcome any further wisdom you would care to share.”
“As you wish, Your Grace.”
He spoke halfheartedly this time and Meryon realized he might be asking too much. Meryon watched the servant steadily and willed him to speak. Blix merely waited attentively.
“Aha, you see, Blix, it is not only the titled and wealthy who are afraid of change. If the two of us, who are practically in each other’s pockets, cannot exchange ideas and information, then how am I to do it with complete strangers?”
“There is one more thing.”
“Yes.” It sounded as though a confession was coming, and indeed Blix squared his shoulders as though willing to take a bullet for what he was about to say.
“It was my half-day off, today, Your Grace, and I thought that I would walk, as I often do, which is how I happened to be near Russell Square. I went to Bloomsbury to acquaint myself with the residence of Signora Verano. To see her in person if I could.”
Meryon waited, not at all happy with this revelation.
“I was under the impression from some conversations I overheard that you were going to be seeing rather a lot of the lady and I wanted to know what she looked like, what colors she favored, and if I should consider changing your style to complement hers.”
“Quite a speech, Blix. I had no idea that such was one of the responsibilities of a valet.”
Blix bowed at the rebuke. “Mr. Brummell always said that the employer was a valet’s best advertisement. Your Grace, you are not the slightest bit interested in what you wear as long as it is clean and well made. A family trait, so Lady Olivia’s maid tells me. If you will beg my pardon, Your Grace, it is in both of our best interests for you to appear at your best in all situations.”
It was as though he had started a flood. Blix had not said this much in total in the five years that he had been Meryon’s valet.
“I stand corrected. Now I will correct you. Signora Verano has made it clear that she is not interested in anything more than the most occasional acquaintance. So I do believe that your trip to Bedford Place was for naught.”
“I see, Your Grace.”
Yes, I’m sure he does, Meryon
thought. “Tell me who told you of my interest in the Signora.”
Blix gestured toward the settee. “You did, Your Grace, when you discussed it with Magda.”
Meryon laughed, truly laughed. He was indeed his own worst enemy. “Thank you, Blix. Thank you very much.”
Now Blix did smile, almost a grin. The valet bowed. “You are welcome, Your Grace.” He closed the door behind him, leaving Meryon to wonder if that was the first time he had ever thanked the man.
Reaching for his wine, he took a sip and then a longer drink, thinking he could easily down the whole bottle. His understanding of both women and servants left a great deal to be remedied. It made him wonder who else he might have been underestimating.
The pen and paper waited. The note still had to be written.
How he wished this note was a beginning and not an ending. If Elena had agreed to live in the house on St. German Street, he would be sending her a message telling her when to expect him, along with a book of poetry with a marker at his favorite. Not one from the erotic collection, but something more romantic. Then when they were together, no words would be necessary.
If this had been the beginning instead of the end they would have hours and days and months and years to share everything.
If thoughts of what-might-have-been were his punishment, then his wrong had been colossal. As Meryon dipped the pen in ink and wrote the date, he accepted that the last few days would be all he would have of Elena Verano.
Those few hours were better than nothing at all.
30
TINA, WILL YOU PLEASE go tell Mia that if she wants her gowns to be ready for her first ball then this had best not be one of the occasions when she chooses to say no.”
“Yes, signora.”
“I will wait in the blue salon.”
Elena walked into the salon and right over to the Canaletto. She refused to go upstairs, but the blue salon was not much better. Elena could swear she could still feel Meryon here, smell the intoxicating sandalwood scent he favored. If she went up to hurry Mia along, Elena knew she would be drawn into her sitting room, to her desk where the soot-stained letter awaited her.
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