Midnight Scandals

by Courtney Milan

  “Uh… No. It took days, in fact.”

  “And you count it days too long.”

  He let out an aggravated breath of air. “Yes, well. You’ve got the right of it.”

  She wagged her finger at him, but there was no real exasperation in the gesture.

  “I asked her to marry me,” he said. “And if I can find her, she might still say yes.”

  “Might say yes!” Eliza rolled her eyes. “You mean to tell me that you couldn’t even get her to agree to that? Good God, John.”

  “I thought she’d had enough of people ordering her about.”

  His sister met his eyes, and she shook her head again. “In any event, I did say that there would be time for all that later. We’ve urgent business in town. I need you.”

  He sat up straighter. “What do you need me for?”

  “I need you to be male,” she said. “If you’re not in the room, nobody will take us seriously. If they insist on talking to you, as they always do, direct them back to me, as I know what is going on.”

  “Are we talking to your banker again?” he asked dubiously.

  “Something like that,” she said, with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Ah, here we are!”

  Her carriage drew up in front of a public house.

  He’d been traveling by rail for the better part of the day, and it was already six in the evening. The sun was still out, but he was nonetheless exhausted. He was not in the mood for a beer and a friendly chat. But Eliza had always put him in mind of a tropical cyclone. If she touched land in the vicinity, one couldn’t say no to her. She wouldn’t even understand what the word meant.

  She let him hand her out of the carriage, and then marched into the building. Apparently, they were expected; the proprietor took one look at the two of them, bowed, and escorted them to a back room.

  “Who is here, so far?” Eliza asked.

  “Just the lady who was here when you left earlier, ma’am.”

  “Good,” Eliza said. And she swept into the room as the man opened the door.

  John followed. He took two steps into the private chamber, before stopping completely. He hadn’t known what to expect—he’d supposed that he was here to act as mediator in some dispute with Eliza’s neighbors, or to smooth the way for Eliza with the banker.

  But Mary was sitting at the table in front of him. She was wearing a new gown—a blue satin that brought out the gray of her eyes. He simply stared, unable to say anything. Unable to even step forward and take her in his arms. All he could do was want, and that more deeply than he had ever done.

  Eliza swept up to her, as if finding her here after an absence of a year and a half was hardly a surprise, and kissed her on the cheek.

  Mary’s pale hair was bound up into a pretty little chignon, complete with curls; she returned Eliza’s kiss, and then looked over at John. And then, little minx, she winked at him.

  “You,” he said stupidly. “Do you know how I’ve worried about you?”

  Her eyes sparkled in response. Sparkled was the wrong word for it. Sparkling made him think of candlelight glinting off silver—all shine, no depth. Her eyes put him in mind of moonlight reflecting off a deep lake. All that brilliant luster, reflected from untold deeps.

  “Miss Chartley has been telling me quite the tale,” his sister said.

  “She’s right,” John said swiftly. “I believe her implicitly. Because she’s right. And because it’s logical—because it’s the only explanation that makes sense of the available evidence. I’m not merely saying that because I—”

  Because I want to get her in bed. Because I have to have her in my life. Because I can’t bear to have her leave me again.

  Beside him, Eliza shook her head. “Goodness,” she said. “Could you babble any more, John?”

  Mary smiled more broadly, and something in the vicinity of his chest cracked. His heart, maybe, or his lungs. All his internal organs. He reached out to take her hand.

  Eliza smacked his wrist with her fan so hard that it stung. “Behave yourself, John,” she admonished. “Spare my nerves and save your lovemaking for when I am not present. As I was saying, Miss Chartley has told me everything.” She gave a sniff.

  “Not precisely everything, I hope.” If she had, Eliza might well have aimed her fan rather lower than his hand.

  “Attend to me for five minutes,” his sister said. “Five minutes. This is your duty: You are to sit quietly, act like a hulking male, and observe.” She pointed at a chair at the head of the table, and John sat.

  Eliza gave him a sharp nod.

  To Mary, John said, “I know it appears that my sister is browbeating me. Don’t worry. I can stand up to her. It’s just easier to let her think she’s getting her way for the things that don’t matter.”

  Eliza stuck out her tongue at him. “Fiddlesticks. You listen to me because I’m right. I always am.”

  John thumbed his nose at her; she smiled back cordially.

  “There,” Eliza said, turning to Mary. “That is how one handles him. You can thank me for the lesson later.”

  Mary shook her head and smiled. “Perhaps, but I think I’d prefer less sisterly methods.”

  The two women held each others’ gazes for a long moment. And that was when John realized there was no tension in their exchange. Mary’s father had stolen Eliza’s son’s inheritance. Eliza should have been on the verge of tearing her hair out, or screaming imprecations. Instead, the two were sitting at a table together and exchanging meaningful glances.

  Something had happened. His sister and the love of his life were in league with one another. And that made him feel… Befuddled. Amazed. Delighted. And very, very afraid. He’d wondered how to convince Eliza to be polite; now he was yearning to be a part of whatever it was they had planned.

  Eliza sniffed. “We’ve distracted ourselves. The substance of the matter, John, is that Miss Chartley has brought the most unimaginable—”

  But she didn’t get to finish her sentence. The door opened behind them, and two men entered the room.

  It had been a few months since John had last seen Mr. Frost and Mr. Lawson, the other partners. They swept in.

  “Mr. Mason. Mrs. Tallant.” That last with a nod in the direction of his sister, but they scarcely glanced at the women sitting at the table.

  John stood and shook their hands; behind their backs, Eliza made a face.

  “What’s this all about?” Lawson asked. “You’d think, Mason, that you might give us more than twenty-four hours before calling an urgent meeting.”

  John glanced at his sister and Mary, but they both sat at the table, looking on with silent interest. Apparently, the introductions were to be left to him. If only he knew what he was introducing.

  “Thank you for coming on such short notice,” he improvised. “We’ve just received some, uh, some information.” Safe enough. “We thought it would be of interest to you gentlemen.”

  “This is about the partnership, yes?” Lawson sighed, and brushed past him to pull out a seat from the table. “Don’t tell me you’ve managed to track down Chartley’s bitch of a daughter.” He sat—and only then realized that the women sitting at the table were not, as he’d supposed, Mrs. Elizabeth Tallant and a servant, but Mrs. Tallant and…

  He sat back and coughed heavily.

  “Yes,” Mary said calmly. “Mr. Mason did find—how did you put it?—Chartley’s bitch of a daughter.”

  Lawson flinched at her wording. But John knew that light in her eyes. It was the way she’d looked when she’d given him Lady Northword’s earring. If ever she’d directed that look at him, he’d have run screaming for his life.

  “As it turns out, gentlemen, I had something in my possession that I believe will shed some light on a few things.” She undid a clasp on a large brown envelope and pulled out a few pages—frayed along the folds, well-inked, and charred on the edges.

  “These are the pages that were missing from my father’s account book,” she said. “As
the book I sent earlier documented, some eight thousand pounds were taken over a period of four years. This shows the final withdrawals from the account where my father kept them: around two thousand pounds. Leaving a balance, on the day of his death, of five thousand, nine hundred and sixty-seven guineas.”

  John’s heart began to pound. They’d told him the account had eight hundred pounds in it—eight hundred, not almost six thousand.

  Lawson, who hadn’t seated himself, snorted dismissively. “Surely you aren’t trusting to the accounting of a thief—and a document held by a liar.”

  “No,” Mary said calmly. “He doesn’t need to trust me.” She passed over another sheet of paper. “This is a copy of the account balances and withdrawals, certified by Mr. Waring, the bank director. According to this, the balance—which precisely matches my father’s figures, once one accounts for the interest that was paid in—was withdrawn two weeks after my father’s death, by Mr. Frost on behalf of the partnership.”

  Silence. She was beautiful in her triumph, so beautiful. John held his breath, waiting to see what Frost would say to that accusation.

  “Lies,” Frost breathed.

  Lawson didn’t move.

  “And this,” Mary continued, “is an accounting of what was done with those funds. They were rolled over into a new account on behalf of the partnership again. Don’t you find it odd, Mr. Mason, that the partnership has had an entire new account, and that neither you nor your sister were told about it? It’s nice to know that the partnership has finally begun to prosper. Over the last year, they’ve managed a thirty-five percent profit. Extremely handsome.”

  John took the pages and ruffled through them. “Thirty-five percent profit, it seems, after the distributions made to Frost and Lawson. More than that before.” The silence stretched.

  “How did you get this?” Lawson’s voice was hoarse.

  Now, John supposed, was the time for him to start being—how had his sister put it?—a hulking male. He leaned over the table and fixed the men with a glare. “Did you think you would get away with this forever?”

  “An oversight,” Frost said, coughing into his fist. “Purely an oversight, I assure you—the paperwork must have been, ah…misplaced. There will be no more mishaps like this, now that you’ve brought the matter to our attention.”

  “No,” John said. “There won’t.”

  Eliza hadn’t spoken the entire time. But she raised her chin now and glared at the gentlemen. “You lot should be convicted and beaten about the square,” she said passionately. “I can only think about how I’ve worried this last year. An oversight. It was nothing of the kind. You saw your chance to make a profit after a sad bit of business, and you took it. At my son’s expense. I will see you publicly brought down.”

  “Now, now, Mrs. Tallant.”

  John could have told the man that condescending conciliation would only make matters worse.

  Eliza stood, slapping her gloves against the table. “Don’t you take that tone with me, sir. You stole from a widow and a seven-year-old child. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.”

  “No need to make a fuss,” Frost said. “It’s been a dreadful ordeal. I think this all demonstrates that it’s more than past time to liquidate the partnership and divide the proceeds—taking into account, of course, the amounts that we have already—I mean, that have already been paid to some parties. To the third owed to you, Mrs. Tallant, I should like to put in an additional five hundred pounds—for your trouble.”

  “And from mine,” Lawson added hastily.

  “You think you can buy me off with mere money, when I’ve scarcely been able to concentrate? When I couldn’t even eat, for wondering what would become of my son?”

  Now John knew that Elizabeth was acting. The day his sister stopped eating would be an alarming day indeed.

  “Seven hundred pounds,” Frost said uneasily, glancing at his partner, who nodded.

  “I won’t have my father’s—my husband’s—memory so despoiled,” she said. “Their spirits cry out for vengeance, not compensation!”

  “A thousand pounds from each of us,” Lawson said, looking green. “And that little strip of land near your husband’s house—the one he always wanted to buy? I’ll give you that, too.” He licked his lips. “And that will leave Frost and I far the worse off.”

  “Come now,” John said to Elizabeth, “don’t you think a thousand pounds each is enough to pay for their sins? After all, it was only a little embezzlement.”

  “My nerves,” Elizabeth moaned, which nearly set him off laughing. His sister had nerves of steel. “I can’t be sure. What…oh, John, what do you think that this means? I don’t think I can sort it out myself. Perhaps we ought to call the constable, and have him figure out the best way to proceed.”

  “Twelve hundred each,” Lawson said immediately, while Frost nodded vigorously beside him.

  Eliza sniffed.

  “We’re dreadfully sorry,” Frost put in. “More sorry than you can know.” He licked his lips, looking calculating rather than sorry. “And if you’re looking for revenge, do think about what this will mean to the both of us. After our deductions, we’ll take just two thousand pounds apiece—when we put in that much five years ago. We’ll barely be getting out with our capital intact.”

  Mary stirred on the other side of the table. “Really, Frost. How do you figure that? As I do the math, the partnership owns seventy-five hundred in assets, and there have been three thousand, five hundred in unauthorized deductions.”

  Mr. Frost was only just beginning to frown. But John already knew where Mary was headed.

  “Plus the proceeds of last year’s sale,” John continued on. “Don’t forget those.”

  “Divided four ways,” Mary said, “and you’ll be taking a lot less than two thousand pounds a piece.”

  “Four ways!” Lawson said. “You can’t mean to suggest…”

  “It is not a suggestion,” Mary said. “You’re forgetting—how did you put it? Yes. You’re forgetting about Chartley’s bitch of a daughter. You thought you’d be safe from accusations of theft if you lodged the account in the name of the partnership. How do you suppose I got the bank to provide me with such detailed information? My father was never removed as partner, and I inherited his share on his death. The bank gave my solicitor the accounting because I am legally part owner.” She set her hands flat on the table. “Legally speaking,” she said, “you stole from me, too.”

  “Yes,” Mr. Lawson said, his voice beginning to shake. “Divided four ways. Of course. And you’ll accept, ah, an equal share.” He looked almost green.

  Perhaps this was what the ladies had been waiting for—for these two criminals to offer them everything. They exchanged glances.

  “Shall we accept?” Eliza said. “They certainly could not offer us any more.”

  “That’s true,” Mary said. “And yet something in me revolts at the prospect. It doesn’t seem right, if we let them go and they then proceed to do some other unsuspecting folks out of their fair share by unscrupulous means.”

  Mr. Lawson and Mr. Frost stood at once, looking about the room in terror.

  Mary brushed off her hands. “After all, the court will divide the proceeds. I’m sure it will do a fair job of it—and I don’t ask for more than fairness.”

  “John,” Eliza said, “do poke your head outside the door and see if the constables have arrived yet.”

  John stood and opened the door. “Ah,” he said. “What a coincidence. Here they are.”

  THE NEXT HALF-HOUR SEEMED to pass in a whirl. John made angry, accusatory noises when the constables entered the room, and Lawson and Frost were brought in on charges of theft and fraud. Eliza watched them go with a nod of sharp self-satisfaction. When they’d been conveyed to prison for the evening, Eliza offered her arm to Mary.

  John watched in horror. “Wait,” he said. “Where are you two going?”

  Eliza turned and cast him a glance over her shoulder. “I
’m taking her home with me,” she said, as if he should have guessed this. “If you should like to come to supper, you’re invited.”

  “But—”

  “Come, Mary,” Eliza said.

  But Mary didn’t move. She was looking at him—simply looking, but her eyes glistened.

  “You can’t go with him,” Eliza said, rolling her eyes. “Everyone will see you, and they will all talk. There will be enough talk to get over as it is.”

  “Eliza,” John said, “that’s enough. I’ll take her to wherever it is that she’s staying.”

  “With me.”

  “Good. Then it’s scarcely a mile. We’ll walk. In public. Nothing untoward about that.”

  “But—”

  John folded his arms and looked at her. He simply looked—and she sighed, shaking her head, and stalked away.

  That left the room at the public house empty except for the two of them. It was hardly private. They could hear the other guests in the main room, and the maids went past the door every few minutes. Still, for the moment, they were free from prying eyes. John walked up to Mary. He didn’t know what to say. She was here in Southampton…but then, she’d had business with Frost and Lawson. Perhaps she’d come only for that.

  She was looking up at him, her eyes so clear and guileless that he didn’t know what to make of her.

  And then, she stood on her tiptoes, set her hands on his shoulders, and kissed him so hard that he staggered back a pace and had to reach out a hand to steady himself against a wall. One breath to get his wits; the other to regain his balance, and a third to kiss her back as she deserved.

  “Thank God,” he murmured against her lips. “I don’t know what I would have done without you. Promise you’ll let me make you into a respectable married lady.”

  “No,” she said passionately, still kissing him. “Never.”

  “Mary.” He pulled away from her, but she was smiling. She didn’t look as if she were refusing to marry him, and so he held out a hand to her.