“A little hair of the dog, Barrett?” she could not resist taunting.
“Hold your tongue, woman. Men are free to do as they please. But you, I understand, were making a spectacle of yourself last night. You were well in your cups before I put you in the coach for home.”
“At least I arrived home and climbed the stairs without assistance. Good heavens! Where were you until this morning?”
Barrett frowned and pressed his temples with his fingertips. “Cannot recall. I remember going to Thackery’s, and then to Alice’s…” He looked up and shot her a reproachful glare. “I would not have gone to that old whore if you were doing your duty by me.”
“If I recall correctly, you were frequently at Alice’s even before I left you.” She forced another bite of meat down and laid her fork across her plate. In truth, it did not bother her in the least that her husband was blaming her for his whoring. Better Alice’s bawdy house than her. She shuddered, remembering how close she’d come to surrendering. Oh, but William! How would she find William?
Misreading her shudder, Barrett snickered. “Best get something into your belly, madam. We are going to Travis’s extravaganza at the Argyle Rooms tonight. I committed us to Travis.”
“Lady Sarah’s husband?”
“One and the same. I was carousing with the entire family last night. Good God! The Hunter brothers are bloody unnatural. They never stop!”
“All of them?” she asked.
“To a man,” he confirmed. “Charlie and James are good enough company, but Andrew’s debauchery is truly stunning. I doubt Satan himself could keep up. And Lockwood…well, he paced me drink for drink after he joined us. The man has an inhuman capacity.”
Lockwood had gone looking for them after he left her? “Which of them brought you home?”
“Don’t know. Had to be Lockwood or Andrew, though. I recall someone pulling me up by my breeches and tossing me into the coach. Damn.” He paused to press a spot between his eyes. “I wish I could remember what he said. Something about how I damn well better go straight to bed?”
Heavens! Lockwood had tried to save her from herself.
“Pay attention, damn it!” Barrett roared, then cringed at his own voice.
“What…what sort of extravaganza are the Travises hosting?” she asked. “Is it a masquerade? Does it have a theme?”
“Damnation,” he muttered. “I’ve forgot. Most likely something to do with the holiday. I think I’d remember if costumes were required. Foolish to have grown men and women sporting about looking like idiots.”
“No costumes,” she agreed.
She stood and dropped her napkin on her chair. She wanted to lie down with a cold compress over her eyes. She prayed that would be enough to banish her reddened eyes.
“Oh, and Elise?” Barrett called when she was halfway to the stairs. “Try to be gracious and engaging, will you? I am tired of you standing around like you are too good for the rest of us.”
She bit her tongue before she could remind him whose idea that had been.
Chapter Eighteen
The sheer opulence of the Argyle Rooms was astonishing. Elise felt gauche as she handed her cloak to a footman and looked around. Grecian columns, gilt frescoes, more alcoves than she’d seen at Belmonde’s, plush carpets, polished paneling and glittering crystal chandeliers dazzled her eyes. Though the rooms had opened in 1806, she’d never been to an event here. Judging by Barrett’s familiarity, though, he was quite at home. Was this not the place the Cyprians’ Ball was held annually?
He led her up another wide set of stairs and handed their invitation to an officious looking individual who nodded them in. She sighed with relief when she saw not a single costume. It was a simple holiday gala, if galas could be called simple. To be sure, everyone was dressed elegantly.
She patted her hair self-consciously. Anne had swept it up to the crown and then let curls fall from a clasp to which she’d fastened a sprig of holly. Barrett had made her wear the rubies tonight to complement the little red berries still attached to the holly. The short train of her deep green velvet gown swept the carpet as she followed Barrett to find their host.
Lord Ethan and Lady Sarah stood to the side of the double doors in an attempt to avoid clogging the entrance with well-wishers. When they approached, Lady Sarah stepped forward and kissed Elise’s cheek.
“I am glad you could attend our holiday gala on such short notice,” she said. “I did not even know you when the invitations went out, but I am so glad we were not deprived of your company.”
Elise smiled. She actually believed the woman meant what she said. Then Sarah’s husband took her hand and bowed. “Lady Barrett. So nice to see you again.”
“And you, sir.” He looked remarkably fit for a man who’d been carousing with her husband last night. Could it be that not everyone had been as drunk as Barrett?
“I shall look for you later,” Sarah said. “I would so love to have a little chat.”
“And I always insist upon at least one dance from our female guests,” Lord Ethan said. “So do not try to hide.”
Elise’s heart warmed. She did not doubt their sincerity, even though she wondered at the cause of it.
Barrett took her arm, led her toward the punch bowl and filled a cup of eggnog for himself. “Ah, there’s Charlie Hunter,” he said. “I believe he owes me money. I shall be back presently.”
She exhaled deeply as he walked away. She was always relieved when Barrett was not close by. She was still chilled from the winter night and went looking for something warm to drink. When she arrived at a wassail bowl, she stopped. There was a faint smell of alcohol, but nothing as strong as she’d had last night. She did not think she could stomach another such night so soon.
Hunt leaned forward in his chair at the round table in the small retiring room adjacent to the ballroom, watching his companions as Charlie gave them his preliminary report. Eastman looked nonplussed, Charlie exhibited moderate enthusiasm, Auberville’s eyes were narrowed as if he were calculating the information and Ethan stood and went to gaze out the window.
“So this is how we are going to catch our traitor?” Eastman asked when Charlie was finished. “Money?”
Charlie nodded and looked at Hunt for confirmation.
“Money will give us a list of suspects. We will narrow it to those names with opportunity, then find which of them has a motive.”
“Damn clever, lad,” Eastman said with a smile in Charlie’s direction. “It never occurred to me that our traitor might never have left the country.”
Hunt shrugged. “That remains to be seen. I think it would depend upon how many people are involved. There has to be a connection between London and St. Claire. We are still trying to determine how the information is passed. But we’re a damn sight closer than we were.”
“What’s next?”
“I plan to appear as slightly down on my luck. Charlie, here, is helping me by losing prodigious amounts of cash to Barrett. I shall let it be known that I am looking for a high yield investment to recoup my losses and do not care if it is high risk or slightly shady, as long as it pays a high return. It should be interesting to see who, if anyone, approaches me. I am hoping that, by the time Charlie has finished his ledgers and accounts, I will have narrowed the list of suspects. And, if my ploy pays off, perhaps I will be given the opportunity to invest in a ship or two.”
“Be careful, Lockwood. You do not want society to think you are a wastrel, do you?”
Frankly, he did not care in the least. He was well aware that he had already risked his reputation when he’d begun deviling Elise. “What I need from you, Lord Eastman, is for you to ‘confide’ to a few men at the Foreign Office that I am desperate. We shall see if that draws anyone out. You, too, Auberville, and you, Ethan. And, by the way, Ethan, I shall be transferring a large sum into your account tomorrow. I want to look like a pauper in the event anyone should inquire.”
Ethan nodded.
Sara
h linked her arm through Elise’s and led her toward a small grouping of chairs, vacant for the moment. “I am so glad you came, Elise. I was afraid…there might be some reason you would not be able to make it.”
Elise laughed. “Barrett, you mean?”
“Well…” Sarah paused while they sat and settled themselves. “I gather he is not always easily led. Ah, but enough about husbands. I wanted to talk to you about your current situation regarding your son.”
Elise glanced about, wanting to make certain Barrett was not in a position to overhear. He was standing across the room in deep conversation with Charles Hunter. She released a long breath and nodded. “Pray, continue, Sarah.”
“After you left us the other afternoon, the ladies and I discussed your current dilemma. Though you did not ask our help, we decided to look into the matter to see if anything could be done. We appreciate the delicacy of the situation, given that Barrett is a peer.”
“Thank you for your concern,” Elise began, feeling her cheeks grow warm. How embarrassing to know that her new friends were discussing her private business. It had been a tremendous relief to tell someone about William, but she really hadn’t expected them to help her.
“Not at all, dear. This is not the first time we have looked into matters for friends.”
“Oh?”
“Well, enough times that we have begun to understand the intricacies of investigation. We hired a Bow Street runner to follow Barrett’s coach when he left with the lad yesterday afternoon.”
Elise groaned. What if Barrett had caught on? She felt sick to her stomach. Her husband did not need to raise a hand to her to strike her down. All he need do was punish William for her errors. But she had followed the coach and lost it in traffic after a few streets, and she had not seen anyone else following. “Please, Sarah. If you find him, you must leave him where he is until I can make arrangements to hide him. If I do not have everything ready, Barrett will find out and stop me.”
Sarah leaned close and placed her warm hand over Elise’s. “Barrett is watching. Please smile so he will not suspect we are discussing anything of import.”
Resisting the urge to look across the room, Elise forced a smile and even managed a small laugh. “If Barrett caught on that he was being followed—”
“He did not, Elise. And he will not. However, our runner, Mr. Renquist, was unable to follow. The coach headed out of the city on the Oxford Road. Mr. Renquist did, however, ascertain that William was not being kept at Barrett’s brother’s home.”
Elise kept her anxiety under control with great difficulty. “So I am no further ahead than I was yesterday?”
“A bit further, dear. We know where William is not. Now, shall we make another attempt?”
“How?”
“If you will convince Lord Barrett to bring little William for another visit, Mr. Renquist could be waiting on horseback.”
Convince Barrett? To convince Barrett, she would have to trade favors. She glanced over at him and felt the bile rise in her throat. And once again she asked herself whether she could do that. William’s face, pale and sunken, as she’d last seen it, rose to her mind. Could she not?
She looked back at Sarah. “Yes, I will convince him. I shall send you the date and time of William’s visit. If your Mr. Renquist can determine where they are holding him, please inform me at once. In person, or verbally by messenger. Please do not send a written message, which could be intercepted.”
Sarah nodded. “I understand. And please be assured that we are looking into making arrangements for you, as well. We simply must find a way to deal with your husband in a manner that will ensure your safety.”
“I… I do not know how to thank you and your friends, Sarah. You barely know me. How will I ever repay you?”
“We shall think of something.” She turned to watch her husband and brother come toward them.
Lockwood met Elise’s gaze and grinned, and she knew he was thinking of last night. Think of me. Dear Lord, how could she ever forget?
“I have never seen Lockwood in such a state,” Sarah said under her breath. “Every time he looks at you, his heart is in his eyes. I have put two and two together and have come up with…well, two. You two, to be precise. I gather you knew each other fairly well on St. Claire.”
Fairly well? That was an embarrassing understatement. “Did Lockwood ask you to help me?”
“Heavens, no! He asked me to invite you to tea. He has no idea what the ladies and I are up to. You know men. They would think they had to put a stop to it, then take over in their typically heavy-handed way.”
Hunt stood on the street outside the Argyle Rooms and watched as Andrew pulled away with Barrett in the Lockwood coach and as Elise, in Barrett’s coach, pulled away in the opposite direction. Not surprisingly, Andrew had embraced the challenge of keeping Barrett from his bed. His brother’s wicked smile and his wicked ways were coming in useful after all.
“I hear you are looking for investments, eh, Lockwood?” Gavin Doyle asked over his shoulder.
Hunt turned. “Why, yes, I am. Do you have something for me?”
“Might. I will look into it. You’re not averse to shipping ventures?”
“Not averse at all. In fact, I’d be willing to risk a considerable sum on them.”
“The greatest return is on the uninsured ships, you know. But the risk is greatest, as well.”
Hunt shrugged. Was it going to be this easy? “I do not mind a risk. In fact, I find that the more hungry I am for funds, the greater the risk I am willing to take.”
“Excellent. Where shall I find you?”
“At my club,” Hunt instructed. “Or send ’round to my house. I must say, I am surprised. I hadn’t any idea that you were an investor.”
Doyle gave him a sharp glance. “What? Because of my humble beginnings, you mean? All the more reason. If one is to rise, one must have the wherewithal.”
“Ah, a self-made man,” Hunt replied in a soothing tone. “Admirable. I hear there are fortunes to be made in India, as well.”
“So it is said. Alas, I begin to doubt that I will ever make it there.”
“Surely you are not turning down the posting?”
“No. But another opportunity may be arising.”
“Something closer to home, I would hope.”
A smile curved the corners of Doyle’s mouth. “One can always hope, eh, Lockwood?”
The sky was nearly the same color as the soot-darkened snow as Elise hurried up the church stairs. She’d never been to a funeral before. She’d been considered too young when her father had passed away, and the remainder of her years had been lived in happy isolation.
She was surprised to see so few people in attendance, but then she recalled that Captain Gilbert had been a seafaring man and, after his wife’s death years ago, had lost touch with many of their former friends. But she was a little dismayed by the fact that she was the only woman.
Elise took a seat in the back. An ebony coffin stood before the pulpit and she could not reconcile her mind to the fact that Captain Gilbert, or what was left of him, was enclosed in it. A lump clogged her throat and she withdrew a handkerchief from her reticule.
Though the minister’s voice droned on and the congregation made appropriate responses, Elise did not participate. She could only look at the coffin and remember Captain Gilbert patting her on the shoulder and walking away without a goodbye. Even the day they had docked, he had waved to her from the deck but had not called a farewell. How she wished she could see him now, and laugh at his teasing as he hid the newspapers from her.
She lifted a corner of her veil to dab at her eyes. How impossibly sad it was that good men like the captain could fall victim to murderers and thieves, while men like her husband could commit all manner of villainy against the innocent and go unpunished.
She said her own prayers for Captain Gilbert’s peace and repose as the others read from the Book of Common Prayer. Somehow that seemed more personal.
/>
And then it was over. No burial would follow immediately, the minister announced, since it had been Captain Gilbert’s wish to be buried beside his wife in Dover. At the mention of his wife, Elise’s eyes flooded with tears. Oh, how she prayed he was with her now, after so many faithful and lonely years.
She stood and hurried out to the street, anxious to be away before anyone could talk to her. Alas, that was not to be.
“Lady Barrett!”
She stopped but did not turn.
Mr. Doyle caught up with her and bowed. “Had I known you would want to be here, madam, I would have fetched you myself.”
Elise removed her veil and wiped at her eyes with resolute strength. All the while, she heard Barrett in the back of her mind, haranguing her that any display of emotion was unseemly. She cleared her throat. “I only learned of the funeral this morning, Mr. Doyle. I read the notice in the Times.”
He took her gloved hand and bowed over it. “Nevertheless, I am very sorry. If you will come with me, my coach is waiting and I will convey you home.”
“Thank you, sir, but no. I believe I will find the walk restorative.”
Doyle looked uncertain. “If you insist.”
“I do, sir. At times such as these, I find I prefer to be alone with my thoughts.”
“We shall have to have a talk very soon, madam.” He tipped his hat, bowed and walked to his waiting coach.
Elise sighed with relief. She pushed Mr. Doyle’s odd goodbye from her mind and began walking, looking down at the street. She did not want to meet the eyes of strangers and see their pity at her tears, nor did she want to call attention to herself by wearing the veil.
She had walked several blocks before she realized that sleet had begun to fall and that someone was following her. She registered footsteps measuring hers pace for pace. She stopped and turned.
Lockwood halted behind her and gave her a slight bow. “Madam. Are you well?”
Indiscretions Page 19