“I did. And now I’m back.”
“In that case, it’s a pleasure to see you, sir.”
“You too,” David said. “How was Frey as a flashman in my absence?”
“Oh, he’s got a gift for it.” Zoë fluttered her eyelashes. She was noisily fond of Dominic Frey, mostly because it irritated Silas, but David knew her well enough to suspect she actually liked the man.
“He may be in trouble. Mr. Frey, Silas, the pack of them. It’s to be hoped not you, but I don’t know how far this could spread if I don’t deal with it.”
Zoë’s eyes narrowed. “What’s going on?”
“Lord Maltravers.”
She turned in her chair, hawked, and spat, quite deliberately, on her own floor.
“Like that, is it?”
“Great bullying brawn,” Zoë said. “I remember that one from Seymour Street back in the day. If he can’t get a cock-stand, that’s the whore’s fault. You know the sort. Slapped a girl who laughed at him so hard, she couldn’t do anyone but sailors for a week because nobody wants to look at bruises. And he was tight as a gnat’s arse about it. Other gentlemen pay for damage done, or some of ’em do anyway.” She made a face. “Fucking gentlemen and their pleasures, and their tantrums when they’re thwarted. It’s why I picked the assignation house when old Belle was dividing up the empire, you know. Give me sods and mollies any day.”
“Why, because they’re gentler souls?” David asked with some sarcasm. “Like Silas and your Mr. Frey?”
“They’re not hurting the girls. Fuck my eye if I care what they do to each other. I’d stay away from Lord Maltravers if I was you. He’s a nasty piece of work, and if you cross him, he’ll come back at you till he’s got his stick up.”
“Yes, I know,” David said. “Unfortunately, he’s after Silas again, and after Lord Richard’s set as well. I’m going to have to cross him. And as Belle used to say, ‘If you’re obliged to cross a man at all—’ ”
“ ‘Nail him to one while you’re at it,’ ” Zoë finished. “You going to nail Lord Maltravers?”
“By the balls. Want to help?”
“You know me, Foxy. I’ll do anything for our beloved gentlemen. Here to serve, that’s me.” Zoë grinned at him. “How much?”
They spent a fair part of the afternoon in brothels. David hadn’t kept up his acquaintance with game women after his mother had left Millay’s, and had not needed to visit those types of houses in his work for Lord Richard, so the women who ran the various establishments would have no reason to trust him. Zoë was widely known in the business and widely liked; she could vouch for him. It took trips to a fair few houses and a certain investment of Lord Richard’s money in gin, but at last, they found the place Maltravers frequented.
“His lordship comes here, yes,” agreed the aged bawd who ran this particular temple of hymen under the name Mother Knab. “Domine do-little.”
“Impotent?” David said hopefully.
“Oh, not a gelding, but no stallion either. I dessay he’d be very well with a bit of patience, but my lord the duke’s brat doesn’t have to be patient, does he? Drinks any amount of quack’s potions. Dr. Vanbutchell’s Nostrum and whatnot. And he likes the old…” She put a hand to her scrawny neck, stuck out her tongue sideways, and crossed her eyes.
“The what now, Mother?” David asked.
“Self-strangling,” Zoë said. “What, you never heard of that? You put a rope round a fellow’s neck and it brings his ramrod up like nobody’s business.”
“I did know that. Wasn’t there a fellow killed that way, a foreign musician?”
“Thirty years ago, that was,” Mother Knab muttered. “And the poll who did it was acquitted too, so don’t you go saying it’s dangerous. If it gets fellows to the point, where’s the harm?”
David toyed with the idea of having Lord Maltravers “accidentally” throttled, but discarded it. The last thing they needed was for Lord Gabriel’s letter to be found among a dead man’s papers.
They tried a few more places before Zoë had to go to work. David gave assurances of his mother’s health to the few who remembered her, smiled at a dozen jests about his hair, and didn’t get anything else useful on Maltravers.
He could have done some good with a really filthy bit of scandal, something to disgrace his lordship and make his word worth nothing. But there was nothing shameful in using whores, and the gentry would scarcely care if his lordship was rough with them. Impotence was no use either. It was an easy slur against a man but no more.
Aphrodisiacs, though. He’d heard a lot about those, growing up. Gentlemen who couldn’t do their business often sought desperate remedies, and heaven knew what was in those potions, but some of them did damage. All the whores knew men with slurred speech and snarling tempers. Mad as a hatter, they’d tell each other. Stay away.
Vanbutchell’s Nostrum was no more than a harmless concoction, but if Lord Maltravers had that habit…
Advantage, David thought, and went back to Quex’s.
“So, what, you’re applying to be Maltravers’s valet?” Silas asked later that evening. David had whistled him up to Quex’s, and they were drinking gin and making plans before David went to give the Ricardians their instructions in the private rooms. There were some things the gentlemen didn’t need to know. “You don’t reckon he’ll think you’re there on Lord Richard’s bidding?”
“He might,” David acknowledged. “Then again, it’s known I fell out with my lord, and Lord Maltravers believes that his rank makes him a more desirable master. There is a chance he’ll take my approach at face value. It doesn’t necessarily matter.”
Silas gave him a look. “What are you brewing?”
David grinned. He knew it looked forced, because it was. He was not looking forward to this part of the play.
Silas clearly saw that in his face. “If you need me at your back—”
“I don’t, but I have a different sort of job for you. How do you feel about getting in the gutter again?”
“Born and bred there. Be a pleasure.” Silas cocked an eye at him. “How’s his lordship?”
“In the private rooms.”
“Aye, very good. I’d almost believe I said where. You coming back, Foxy?”
“We’ll see. It depends. On how this goes, for a start,” he added to forestall the obvious question.
“It had better go all right, then. I don’t want to go to France, and his lordship’s not doing so well without you.”
David was not going to ask for details. “I didn’t know you cared.”
Silas gave the snarling grin that had led Julius Norreys to name him “Dominic’s werewolf.” “Aye, and of course you don’t either. I just need someone to play backgammon with. The house is a tomb in the evenings now Harry’s moved out. What’s this job, then?”
—
Richard waited in the private rooms, watching the others. David had asked him to assemble a select group at nine of the clock: Dominic, Francis and Ash, Julius and Harry. Neither of the lawyers, since they would be going well beyond the law. All of them were on edge waiting to hear what, if anything, David could do.
“I damned well hope your valet has something useful to offer,” Francis muttered, stalking the length of the room for the fifteenth time. “Where is the man? He said nine.”
“It’s two minutes past,” Dominic said. “And he isn’t Richard’s valet, and I for one would be grateful if you would calm yourself. You’re setting my teeth on edge.”
“Forgive my lack of consideration,” Francis snapped. “I suppose you would approach this situation with sangfroid.”
“In fact, he did,” Julius said. “You may recall Mason came within a whisker of being arrested for high treason, and Dominic was as cool as a cucumber throughout.”
“And barely made it to the privy afterwards before I cast up my accounts,” Dominic added. “You have all my sympathy, Francis, I just wish you’d stop wearing holes in the carpet. Listen. There�
�s someone coming.”
David opened the door. “Good evening, my lords, gentlemen.”
Richard felt one kind of tension ease out of his shoulders, even as his gut tightened a little at the sight. “Good evening, Cyprian. Please come in.”
David walked to the fireplace, opposite Richard, gaze flicking from man to man. “Gentlemen, thank you. I’ll get to the meat of it: We have to retrieve this letter; we have to find out what Mr. Skelton knows and take him off the board one way or another; and we have to deal with Lord Maltravers. While he can accuse Lord Gabriel and Mr. Webster, even without the letter, he is a threat. And it seems to me likely that if the letter is stolen his response will be to make accusations. He will not take defeat well.”
“But he will always be able to accuse us,” Francis said. “He knows, damn it. What are you going to do, cut out his tongue?”
“In a way,” David said. “I wondered if we might silence him blackmail for blackmail, but I have found no weapon worth using for that. Unless anyone here knows otherwise, it seems that he has no sordid secrets or hidden crimes.”
“Unfortunately, those are all on our side,” Julius remarked.
“Indeed, Mr. Norreys. The next best option is to make sure that, when he speaks, he will not be believed. I need your help with that.”
The Ricardians exchanged looks. Harry spoke for them all when he asked, “How?”
David’s lips twitched in an echo of his mother’s razor-sharp smile, a warning of danger that made Richard’s skin prickle with the sudden understanding that his red fox was in his element.
“I will explain, but first there is something to establish. I intend to destroy Lord Maltravers’s character.” Ash’s eyes widened. “This is not going to be gentlemanly at all. It will be ruthless, unscrupulous, probably unlawful, and if anyone here cannot be part of it, please say so now.”
Every head turned to Richard.
“Dominic?” he said.
Dominic bit his lip. “Do what you must with Maltravers. He started this, and with Ash and Silas at stake, he can take the consequences. But what about Skelton?”
“What about him?” Francis demanded.
“He’s a professional man. I don’t like him, but he is doing his job.”
Francis and Julius both made explosive noises. “He accused Silas of murder!” Harry objected over them.
“I know, and I should be grateful if you didn’t repeat this conversation, because Silas will doubtless have my hide for it, but Skelton is supposed to hunt down radicals. It’s what he’s paid for. And yes, he’s Maltravers’s ally, but I can’t see him destroyed for that.”
“I don’t need to destroy him,” David said. “I think there is another way to deal with Mr. Skelton, but I will require your help, Mr. Frey.”
Dominic gave him a relieved smile. “Anything. Thank you.”
“Good,” Richard said. “Julius, have you any concerns?”
“Dear fellow, he may rip the balls off anyone he sees fit,” Julius said. “Cry havoc, Cyprian, and consider me your dog of war.”
Francis rolled his eyes. “Seconded.”
“Thirded,” Harry added. “Ash?”
Ash made a face. “I feel a deuced villain, you know. He’s my brother.”
“And you’re his brother, and that hasn’t stopped him,” Francis pointed out.
“I know. I’ll do what I have to.”
“What about you, Richard?” Dominic asked.
“Cyprian has my full support in whatever he does. All of you will kindly treat his requests as though they came from me.” He nodded at David. “Carry on.”
David took a deep breath. “Firstly, time. When is the trial of the conspirators set?”
“The other conspirators, you mean?” Dominic asked a little sardonically. “The fifteenth.”
“Nine days,” David said. “Lord Maltravers will want Silas added to the accused as soon as possible. Lord Gabriel, you need to delay him. Tell him that you are prepared to give in to his blackmail but that you are still working on persuading your friends. Say they are intransigent; Lord Richard is offended. Seem cowed and afraid. Can you do that?”
“I can seem afraid without any trouble at all,” Ash assured him.
“Ask to see the letter, to confirm he has it. You may be able to find a clue as to where it might be. And”—his chin tilted upward—“make Lord Richard the focus of your objections.”
Ash frowned. “How do you mean?”
“Imply that he is the man stopping you from giving in, but he has secrets himself. Use phrases like holier-than-thou, or a fly on the wall might see things. Don’t be drawn into specifics; clam up when he asks. But set that trail for me, Lord Gabriel—that Lord Richard has secrets for Lord Maltravers to learn. I want him on Lord Richard’s scent.”
The other men were shifting in their seats. Julius’s brows were raised so high it looked painful. “Are you baiting traps?”
David smiled, sharp-toothed and wicked. Richard waved a hand, indicating that he was unconcerned. He didn’t quite feel it.
“Very well,” David said. “As to the rest of you…gossip. I need you all, from tonight, to start asking what’s wrong with Lord Maltravers.”
“That won’t take long to establish,” Francis muttered.
“No, Mr. Webster, I mean, What on earth is wrong with Maltravers?” David spoke in a voice unnervingly like Julius’s dry tone. “The fellow’s always been boastful, but really…Or Do you believe all this about Maltravers? He’s been saying the most peculiar things recently, but this seems extraordinary.”
“We’re to say that he’s a liar?” Julius asked.
“That he speaks fantasies, Mr. Norreys. Peculiar, sordid, unreliable. And ask; don’t say. Assert that you don’t believe a word of it. Wonder if anyone else has heard that he is speaking wildly. Remember that nonsense he was spouting about Harry Vane last winter or that ungentlemanly boast about Lady Beaufort—”
“What did he say about Lady Beaufort?” Harry asked, ruffled. He was one of the fashionable widow’s court and took a chivalrous interest in her reputation. “Because I can assure you, she would not drop her handkerchief for that oaf, no matter what he may claim.”
“I’m not aware he said anything, Mr. Harry. But you believed that he did.”
“He’s a braggart,” Francis said. “And a damned offensive lout.”
“Repeat his boasts and his offenses, and amplify them in the telling. The more basis in truth, the better. Would he have made remarks about any other lady?”
“He was heard to remark that he would take his pick of the Martindale girls at his leisure,” Julius said. “I found that insulting.”
“Suppose he said his pick of the girls and their mother too?” David asked.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Mr. Norreys, nobody would believe ill of Mrs. Martindale. If Lord Maltravers has been making remarks about her, that would only reflect on his peculiar state of mind.”
Julius considered that. An unpleasant smile dawned on his handsome features. “Do you know, perhaps he might have said such a thing. I believe I see what you’re about, Cyprian.”
“I don’t, quite,” Ash said.
“Undermining Lord Maltravers’s word,” Dominic said. “If Julius tells Mrs. Martindale that Maltravers said that about her—”
“Tells Lady Jersey that he said that about my cousin Martindale, more like,” Julius said.
“Asks Lady Jersey if she’s heard any such thing,” David said. “And asks if she was present when he said that other thing. Now, was that at Lady Hertford’s or Lady Beaufort’s? I could have sworn you were there, but perhaps not. I think people will be quite sure they were in the room at the time. With a couple of repetitions, they’ll believe they heard it themselves.”
Dominic raised a dark brow. “You don’t have a high opinion of human nature, do you?”
“People like stories, Mr. Frey. And they like to see the high brought low, and they love
scandal. Give them the story of the duke’s son who is making the most shocking remarks, and it will spread whether it’s believed or not. Spread it enough, and it will be believed. After all, it must be true if everyone is saying it.”
“Yes, I see,” Julius said. “Richard, have you read Frankenstein at all? No? You probably should.”
“Do be quiet,” Dominic told him. “Will this be enough, Mr. Cyprian?”
“Not on its own, no. This is just your part.” David smiled. “Leave the rest with me.”
Chapter 13
“I am absolutely appalled,” Richard said afterward.
They had cooked up half a dozen lies that were close enough to remarks Maltravers had made to have the ring of truth, but which Julius and David had together given an extra note of malice. The others had learned their parts while David and Dominic had consulted on Mr. Skelton, black and red heads together in the corner, and then the other Ricardians had left to begin their work. Harry had been advised to adhere closely to the truth; he blushed too freely to lie well. Francis was to remind people how much Maltravers disliked him, rather than starting new hares, so that nobody should trace any slanders back to him.
Now the others had left, and Richard and David stood alone among a litter of glasses, staring at the fire.
“You did say free rein,” David said. “And I did warn you.”
“I’m not appalled by you. Startled, perhaps, and—very well, maybe a little appalled, but what else would I expect from Mr. Fox? It is not so, nor it was not so, but we’ll damned well make people believe it’s so. No, I was thinking of Julius’s enthusiasm for inventing scandal. I have rarely seen him enjoy himself more.”
“He does have a knack for it. Do you mind this?”
“You’re killing the pig,” Richard said. “And you could not do this to another man. Lord Maltravers’s character can only be blackened because he has stained it so badly himself. Do sit down. You’ve been on your feet all evening.” He waved at one of the armchairs by the fire. “Drink?”
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