by Sara Bennett
Chapter 5
“Archie, I have to go out. Business.”
The accompanying lift of Richard’s eyebrows spoke volumes about the nature of his business. Guardian business.
“Very good, sir. Would you like me to accompany you?”
“No, I won’t need you this time. I’m just doing a little reconnoitering. I don’t expect to find out anything of importance. Or get into any trouble.”
“If you say so, sir.”
“Have Samson saddled.”
Richard caught Archie’s smile as he left the room. It was true there had been times when his work with the Guardians had resulted in a black eye or a bloody nose. And one memorable evening he’d sustained a blow to his head that had laid him low for days. Anthony had died on a mission.
He tended to be more careful now. Although he wanted to avenge Anthony’s murder, he also wanted to live to experience the satisfaction of the moment.
His thoughts drifted into more pleasant realms.
While he didn’t expect to be out of town for long, he’d written a note to Tina Smythe for Archie to deliver to Mallory Street. He pictured her now in the clothing they had planned together, the dark green dress with the cream lace and the low décolletage, clinging to her sweetly rounded bosom. Why, he wondered idly, hadn’t he thought of employing his skills with young ladies before? They were considerably more stimulating than the gentlemen he usually dealt with. But then again was stimulation necessarily a good thing?
Richard also remembered he’d decided on an extra pair of eyes to keep watch in the Smythe household.
When Archie returned to tell him that Samson was ready, Richard said, “Archie, I have a job for you. Well, two actually. I want you to deliver this note to Miss Smythe.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And there is something more while you’re at it. A little mission.”
“A mission, sir?” Archie’s eyes twinkled. “I hoped you might find something for me. What is it?”
Richard explained the situation.
“Ah. You think there might be a pretty maidservant I can win over to our side?”
“That did cross my mind, Archie. Do you think you’re up to it?”
Archie grinned. “I may not be as young as I used to be, sir, but I’m not in my dotage yet. I’m told that now I have turned forty years of age I have a certain gravitas.”
“I’ll leave it to you then.”
Samson was saddled and ready, and Richard lost no time in setting off. He was heading out of London, going southeast, on the road that then turned into the major coaching route to Kent. However, Richard wasn’t intending to travel far. His destination was a popular inn situated where the city turned to country and was frequented by coaches, public and private, and run by an acquaintance of his. If there was anything to be learned about mysterious travelers coming and going at the time of the Bossenden Wood incident, then Gareth was the man to ask.
The Great Southern Inn was as busy as he remembered, and Richard settled into the parlor with a tankard of ale, amusing himself by watching the antics of a large family who’d broken their journey for food and drink. The children were overexcited, the mother at the end of her tether, and the father pretending they didn’t belong to him. While the young nursemaid looked as if she was about to hand in her notice.
His own family, he mused, had been very different.
Richard and Anthony had been born two years apart, and a younger sister had died as a baby. Their father was a traditionalist, stern and distant, but their mother was warm and loving, the heart of the family. She had died when her sons were still children, and afterward, their father only grew sterner and more distant. It was his decision to send the brothers away to school rather than deal with their grief himself.
Richard had a difficult time at school. Anthony, for whom the whole notion of boarding school was far easier, became his protector and, more importantly, his friend. They’d been very close, and remembering those days now only made what happened later all the more painful and regrettable.
“Mr. Eversham! Setting out for Eversham Manor, are ye?”
Gareth’s jolly voice broke through his reverie, and Richard stood up with a smile of greeting. He was used to Gareth’s battered face, but one of the children gave a little squeak of fright before she was hushed by the nursemaid.
“Not today, Gareth. I wondered if I might have a word.” He glanced about him at the family, now all agog. “Privately.”
Gareth didn’t ask questions but led Richard into his inner sanctum—a small officelike room—and closed the door. A fire was burning comfortably in the hearth, and there were a number of cups and trophies set on the mantel, mementos from Gareth’s boxing days. Fame had come at the price of Gareth’s good looks, but he’d done well enough out of it to purchase this inn.
Richard seated himself in one of the battered old leather armchairs and after some brief chitchat, Gareth said, “You’re here on business then, Mr. Eversham?”
“I am. Have you had any interesting guests through here, Gareth? Around May, the time of the Bossenden Wood riots? I’m interested in quality rather than riffraff.”
Gareth considered the question, rubbing his thumb along a scar on his cheekbone. “May, eh? Well there was a few gents passin’ through here. Don’t rightly remember their names, but after you was here the last time, I took your advice and starting keepin’ a little book.”
With a grin he went to the desk and opened a drawer, removing a battered notebook and holding it up.
“Now, May . . .”
After much page turning and some frowning, he came up with a list of names. Among them were two gentlemen who had been traveling to Kent at the same time. One of them was unknown to Richard, but the other was very familiar. Lord Horace Gilfoyle. Now what on earth was Tina’s intended doing passing through the Great Southern Inn just before the Bossenden Wood riots?
Archie had been waiting outside the house in Mallory Street for what seemed ages, trying not to look too obvious. Now and again he would stroll off and back again, pretending he was enjoying the sunshine. Luckily there was a small garden square at the end of the street, and he was able to lurk by the iron railings, gazing up at the plane trees and generally pretending he was waiting for someone.
Richard Eversham might be his employer, but Archie much preferred these little jobs for the Guardians. It reminded him of his younger, more carefree days, and although he willingly accepted his current role of middle-aged butler, there were times when he still hankered for adventure.
Eventually his wait was rewarded.
A woman left the house, her modest outfit proclaiming her a servant although something about the way she set out, her walk confident, her chin up as she gazed about, told Archie she wasn’t just any servant. No, indeed. She was a superior sort of servant. He waited by the railings—she was heading his way—pretending to do up his shoelace.
As she reached him he stood up, timing it just right, and bumped into her. It was perfect. The woman cried out, dropping her reticule, and Archie stumbled, offering a barrage of apologies.
She took a breath, stepping back, and brushed herself down as if the contact had disarranged her. He stooped to pick up her reticule and held it out to her. She looked up.
Archie just managed to hold on to his dignity and not gasp out loud at the vision. She was older than he’d expected, not a young woman, in her thirties perhaps. Definitely a superior servant. Her hair was very dark, almost black, with bouncy curls escaping her straw bonnet. Her eyes were almost black, too, and he felt her gaze like a punch in his stomach.
“Ma’am? Please, accept my apologies. I am shattered by my clumsiness. I don’t know what I was thinking.”
She considered him a moment more and then nodded, her full mouth softening into a smile. “I accept your apologies, sir. I will not let your clumsiness spoil my afternoon off.”
She had a faint accent. Spanish, Italian? He wasn’t certain of its origin.
As she moved past him, he fell into step beside her. She glanced up at him beneath her brim—she was small in stature, although curvaceous in all the right places—and there was a curious gleam in her eyes. She wasn’t afraid of him, just amused by his clumsiness, and he found himself wrong footed in a way unusual for a confident man of his years.
“My name is Archie Jones,” he offered with suitable humility. “I am a butler in Jasmine Street. It is my day off, too. May I walk with you, Mrs. . . . ?”
Another of those direct looks from her snapping black eyes. “Senorita,” she corrected him. “Or Miss, if you prefer. Miss Maria Baez. And yes, you may walk with me, Mr. Jones. I am taking a trolley bus to Camden. I often do so on my afternoons off. There is a tea shop there that serves turron.” She noticed his blank look. “It is a Spanish sweet, for Christmas, but at this tea shop they have it always. Delicious.”
Better and better, thought Archie. “Because of my clumsiness, Miss Baez, I feel I should buy you tea. And some of this turron? Please, do me this honor.”
He’d amused her again, he could tell by her smile, but he didn’t mind. As long as she agreed it didn’t really matter if she thought him a buffoon, or just a lonely butler seeking love. He had a job to do, but this job looked like being more like a pleasurable interlude than the missions on which Mr. Eversham usually sent him.
Senorita Maria Baez was attractive and exotic, and suddenly he wanted to know all about her.
Maria was enjoying herself.
Mr. Archie Jones the butler was a charming fellow, there was no doubt about it. She stole a glance over her prettily patterned teacup and found him gazing back at her.
“Do you like the turron, Mr. Jones? It is made of honey and almonds, and sometimes a little chocolate or vanilla or coffee.” She popped a square of the sweet into her mouth and smiled in childlike delight. “Delicious!”
He appeared bemused, as if she wasn’t at all what he’d expected. She wondered what he had been expecting when he pretended to bump into her. Oh yes, she knew it was all make-believe. Maria had been watching him from the window at Mallory Street, wondering what on earth the trim, neatly dressed gentleman was up to, strolling back and forth, sending furtive glances up at the Smythe’s residence.
She’d decided to find out.
“Have you ever been to Spain, Mr. Jones?”
“I have indeed, Miss Baez. When I was much younger and much more foolish I enlisted in the army and went to fight Napoleon. The war was all but over by the time I got there so I didn’t have much to do but enjoy the scenery. I actually have very fond memories of my days in Spain and always hoped to return.”
Maria smiled, thinking, That makes him forty or so. A nice age for a man.
“Perhaps you could persuade your employer to go for a holiday and for you to accompany him, Mr. Jones. I have longed for my own employers to travel, but at the moment it is out of the question.”
His gaze sharpened.
Ah, just as she’d thought. It was the Smythes he was interested in. They were the prize, and she was merely the conduit.
“I would enjoy a trip to Spain, Miss Baez, but unfortunately while I was there last time I got myself into a bit of bother, and they threatened to put me in prison if I ever came back. The country is out of bounds to me.”
“A shame, Mr. Jones. What sort of bother?”
“We captured some bandits in the hills, and my captain ordered them shot. Turned out later they were favorites of the local Spanish commander. He swore his revenge on our company, however long that might take. The commander is now high in the Spanish government so I’m not sure I want to risk it.”
“Oh.”
“Can I persuade you to call me Archie, Miss Baez? I know we are barely acquainted, but I feel as though we are already friends.”
She sipped her tea and thought for a minute. “Very well, Archie. And you may call me Maria.”
They smiled. Maria decided then and there that when Archie asked to meet her again—and he would—she was going to say yes. Whatever he was up to she wanted to know about it, for her young mistress’s sake as much as the other members of the family.
Perhaps he was a debt collector?
Maria knew that the Smythes were in debt up to their well-bred necks. It was in their interest, and hers as their employee, to make certain Archie wasn’t planning any mischief.
Yes, it was her duty to play his game.
But if she was honest, that wasn’t the only reason she wanted to meet him again. She was enjoying his company. He was a man who was old enough to be comfortable in his own skin, and he had seen the world—even if he couldn’t go back to Spain. She was interested in what he had to say, and she liked his smiling eyes.
It was a long time since Maria had met a man whose company she enjoyed quite this much. She hoped, she really did, that he wasn’t a debt collector. It was a mystery what else he could be, but she could wait. The truth would reveal itself in time, and Maria was looking forward to making the discovery.
Chapter 6
Tina was resting. At least, she was supposed to be resting, but she was a healthy young woman, and in reality she was reclining on her bed thinking about the future.
Her future. With Horace.
She’d already decided that they would have two children—a boy and a girl—named Gideon and Penelope—and they would spend their time between Horace’s country estate and his London town house. He would go hunting in the country, of course, and as she was not much of a rider to hounds, she would busy herself with . . . with . . .
Tina sat up. What would she do to occupy herself? Walking? Embroidery? She shuddered. Embroidery was not her strong suit at all. Perhaps she could take up watercolors. Tina had been well grounded in the running of a household and expected to be busy with that—and children. In fact she was a homebody who loved her family and wanted the same sort of warm relationships with her own husband and children. But surely the important thing was that she and Horace would be happy? Yes, that was the important thing.
Satisfied, she lay down again.
But her thoughts had brought forth a question, and she realized she had no answer. What did Horace do with his time? He had no close family and didn’t have to earn a living, of course, so she imagined he spent his time in much the same way as her brother, who didn’t seem to do much at all. Charles went to a gentlemen’s club, where one had to be a member, but as far as she knew all they actually did there was drink whiskey and smoke cigars and make wagers. She must remember to ask Horace what else he found to occupy himself.
But not tonight.
Tonight was about practicing her skills of seduction at Horace’s soiree. She giggled. Her finishing-school friends would be all agog if they knew what she was up to. She wished they were here right now so that she could tell them all about the disreputable Mr. Eversham. And of course about Horace, she reminded herself hastily. After all, this was all about marrying Horace, whom she’d loved forever, and saving the family from penury.
She remembered some years ago a family friend had gazed fondly upon her and Horace and predicted they would marry. Of course, they had burst themselves laughing at the very idea! And now here she was contemplating that very thing.
Just then her mother’s head appeared around the door. “Are you asleep, darling?”
Tina sat up. “No, Mama. Just resting. We may be very late tonight.”
Lady Carol Smythe sat on the edge of the bed. “Yes. It’s quite an occasion, going to the theater with a Lord of the Realm,” she said, a twinkle in her eye.
“Oh, Mama, it’s just Horace. We’ve known each other for years. And it’s not as if it’s just us; Charles and other people will be there.”
“That’s as well, too.” Her mother fiddled with the pearl trim that edged her sleeve, and Tina noticed she looked anxious. Her own heartbeat quickened as she wondered what new secret she was about to share. “But you do like Horace, don’t you, darling?”
“Of course I do, Mama. He’s a good friend.”
“And a handsome man. You’re not children anymore.” She fiddled with her sleeve some more, and Tina, growing more anxious herself, watched and waited.
“You know that your father is in difficult straits, Tina. I told you so.”
“Yes, Mama, I remember.” How could she forget? The shock she’d felt when her mother had whispered the truth about their appalling situation! And although Lady Carol had said nothing since then, it was obvious to Tina that matters were getting worse. Although appearances were still kept up when they had visitors or went out socializing, when they were at home with just the family the meals consisted of the cheapest ingredients possible—more gristle than meat—and Tina had noticed a growing number of empty spaces on the walls, where paintings used to hang.
Slowly but surely, their once-comfortable life was being eroded away by debt.
And it wasn’t just the material changes: Tina had also noticed a change in her parents’ behavior toward each other—particularly Lady Carol. There was a bitterness in her manner that had never been there before. She was obviously finding it difficult to forgive Sir Thomas his financial blunder, and who could blame her? It was Lady Carol’s money he had lost, after all.
Lady Carol interrupted her thoughts, her voice high and trembling. “I fear we cannot keep pretending everything is as it was, Tina. So many unpaid bills! Your father has managed to stave off some of the larger ones by promising to pay—promises we cannot possibly keep! But at least it keeps the bailiffs from the door. We just cannot go on for much longer.”
Tina was sure her face was just as white as her mother’s, and she suddenly noticed there were new lines about Lady Carol’s mouth and eyes, and the line between her brows was deeper. Worry was taking its toll on the once-renowned beauty.
“But is there nothing we can do?” Tina said. “Is there no way father can get the money back?”
“I’m afraid not. It is gone. His friend took it all and then lost it. Your father trusted him completely, Tina, and see what has happened. We are ruined.” Her mother looked away, her eyes shining with tears. “Your father is thinking of applying to his brother Harold for a loan. Although it is in no way certain. Harold is not the most generous of men, and your father and he have never been close.”