Lady Sparrow

by Barbara Metzger

  They did not set out for Richmond the next morning as planned, for Harkness found another of Sparrowdale’s children, J.D. All of the butler’s time at the pubs paid off when one of his old comrades at Sparr House let slip something about Sparrowdale’s butter stamp. The boy was six and ten, a sturdy groom right in the earl’s London stables. His name was Jack Dawes.

  When the butler reported his find, Mina almost threw her arms around him. “What would I do without you, Harkness?”

  He looked past her, and past Lowell, and said, “Most likely, madam, you would hire a private investigator.”

  Jack did not want to go to school, live in a duchess’s house, or wear a gentleman’s clothes. He was glad enough to know he had half brothers, without needing to spend his days with them.

  “Me mum was nobbut a maid his lordship fancied. He had his way w’her, and that was that. I reckon I’m luckier’n most, ’cause he gave me a place to live ’stead of the streets, and a position ’stead of the poorhouse. Beggin’ your pardon, ma’am, but bein’ a groom is good enough fer the likes of me.”

  The brawny lad was so obviously uncomfortable in the spotless elegance of Merrison House, standing in front of them with his hat in his hand, that Lowell had to feel sorry for him, and for Minerva, who wanted so badly to make up for her husband’s sins. The probable rape of a young maid in his employ was another black mark against the late, unlamented earl, but some debts simply could not be repaid.

  Lowell could only wonder at the life Minerva must have endured as the knave’s countess. It was a marvel she was neither bitter nor browbeaten. Instead of shutting out the world, she was trying her best to embrace it. Unfortunately, poor Jack had been raised to keep his distance from the Quality. “Is the new Lord Sparrowdale a good employer?” Lowell asked now, thinking of bridging that gap.

  If Jack were in the stable, he would have spit. “Himself? He treats his cattle worse’n dogs”—Merlin was sleeping in front of the fire, a bone between his feet—“and his staff worse still. He’d as lief box a groom’s ears as look at him, and the way he looks at the maids . . .”

  He did not finish. He did not need too.

  “Then perhaps you would not mind working here?” Lowell offered, knowing his brother would never mind the added expense. “I have just bought a new curricle and pair, so we are shorthanded.”

  Jack bobbed his dark head. “I’ve seen your cattle, sir. Sweet-goers, they look. I’d be proud to work for such a bang-up judge of horseflesh, I would. An’ I can teach the nippers to ride proper, too, even the one what Mr. Harkness says is blind. Lead lines and a good-natured pony’s all it would take.”

  Mina put her foot down. Hard. Merlin jumped. “No. No ward of mine is going to muck out stalls his whole life long, and that is final.”

  “But, ma’am, I am too old for schoolin’, and horses is all I know.”

  “Then I have another suggestion,” Lowell said, still smarting under Harkness’s sarcasm. Deuce take it if he’d let the butler unravel this snag too. “Perhaps young Mr. Dawes would consider traveling to Ireland, at my brother’s expense, of course. Mersford maintains a racing stud there, and his manager is always looking for strong, likely lads to help with the training. A smart chap could learn a lot from old McGinnis—enough, maybe, to run a stable of his own someday. Would you like that?”

  Would Jack like to manage a racing stable? That was like asking the dog if he’d like a steak wrapped around that old bone.

  Before Mina could object, Lord Lowell went on. “Then, once you knew the business, perhaps we could go into partnership in a horse farm in the Colonies. I have always fancied raising Thoroughbreds, and I hear they have the perfect climate and terrain. Of course, Lady Sparrowdale might have to lend us both the ready to get started, but it would be a good investment, don’t you think? People might have enough ships, but they can never have enough horses.”

  Lowell was sending Jack to Ireland, when she’d just found him? Then America? Here she’d thought he was top of the trees. He was a toad.

  “Naturally,” he was telling Jack, “you’d have to get more proficient with your letters and numbers, lest some horse trader try to swindle us. I should think spending the summer here with Homer should do the trick. Your half brother could teach the dog to count, I swear. Then, when he goes back to university and the others go off to school, you can go to Ireland ready to help McGinnis with the bookkeeping and the bloodlines. What do you think, Countess?”

  She thought he was a genius, besides being inordinately handsome, undeniably appealing, and a superlative kisser. “It might do,” she said, then smiled. “Unless I decide to raise horses on the Plymouth property, of course.”

  “Of course,” Lowell agreed, smiling back. “Meantime, just for the next few days or so, Jack, do you think you could be a spy?”

  “What, sell army secrets to the Frenchies? I ain’t no—”

  “No, that’s a traitor to the country. I mean more of a scout, keeping an eye on the enemy lines.”

  Jack scratched his chin. Maybe the nob was touched in the upper stories after all, which meant the trip to Ireland was nothing but a pretty dream. “I s’pose,” he said, resigned to returning to his straw bed in whichever stall wasn’t occupied.

  “The current Lord Sparrowdale is the enemy.”

  Then Jack Dawes was the man—or the boy—for the job. “What do you want me to do, my lord?”

  “Right now, the earl is trying to keep the former Lord Sparrowdale’s other children from us. From Lady Sparrowdale, that is, who wishes to ensure their well-being. He has his reasons, but his methods are cruel, and criminal: arson at orphanages, shots in the park. I need someone there on the scene, someone who will not be suspected of snooping, who can watch and listen to see if Roderick meets with any shady characters who are doing the actual foul deeds.”

  “You mean like Harry the Hammer?”

  Lowell drew out a breath. “That ogre is who Sparrowdale hired to do his dirty work?”

  Mina was astounded. “You actually know someone named Harry the Hammer?” Belle Palombe was bad enough.

  “Strictly in the line of business, I swear.”

  Which meant La Paloma was not.

  “I know his reputation, too,” he said. “He is an ugly customer, for certain. I’ll get men to watch his every move so he does not surprise us again. But I need you, Jack, to warn us if Sparrowdale finds a new thug. Can you go back before you are missed, and keep your eyes and ears open?”

  Jack was almost out the door before Lord Lowell finished his instructions about sending word to them here, or to Harkness at the pub.

  Mina watched him go, feeling a lump in her throat. Jack Dawes was sixteen, not ten years younger than she, as tall as Lord Lowell. He was not her son and was never going to be. She could not kiss him good-bye, only wish him godspeed. Homer was too old too, and George Hawkins was too quicksilver for hugs. Peregrine had his granny. Martin had sat beside her for a story last night, not touching, but he’d rather sit next to Merlin, she knew.

  Her arms were empty still.

  Mina could not fill them with the solid comfort of Lord Lowell. He had not offered it, for one thing, and Harkness came into the room, for another. The butler was eager to hear the outcome of their meeting with Jack—and to annoy Ochs by rearranging the drinks tray.

  So Mina picked up the dog. The mongrel, who thought she was stealing his bone, growled.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  The trip to Richmond to find Perry was postponed for a day because of rain. Then it was postponed because Lady Millicent had an appointment with her dressmaker.

  “Lady Millicent?” Lowell glared at his mother over his morning coffee. Instead of having breakfast with them, Minerva had decided to join the nursery party upstairs, and Lowell’s day was off to a poor start. “What has Westcott’s daughter got to do with the trip to Richmond?”

  “You need a group to hold a picnic, you know. Otherwise people will talk of you and dear Minerv
a going off by yourselves, out of Town at that. Roderick will be certain to hear, of course. No, this will make him think you are on nothing but a pleasure jaunt. Children, dogs, an alfresco meal, innocent young maidens. What could be less suspicious? And Westy and I will be along to lend countenance, naturally.”

  “Westy?” he echoed.

  The dowager raised her lorgnette, and an eyebrow, to peer at her second son. “Do you find anything wrong with the duke and I renewing our friendship?”

  Lowell took a swallow of his coffee, wishing it were something stronger. His mother and Westcott, smelling of April and May? More like September and October. “Nothing, Mother.”

  She went back to her correspondence. “Good. Neither do I. He is not about to let the gal out of his sight anyway, not after almost promising her to Sparrowdale. He’ll see what a fine young man your brother is.”

  “I take it Andrew is coming along also?”

  “Do not be more of a ninny than you need. Of course Andrew is joining us. How else can he fix his interests with dear Millicent?”

  So Westcott’s daughter was already dear Millicent, Lowell noted. Knowing his mother, the pretty little miss would no doubt be Andrew’s wife before the cat could lick its ear. If Andrew did not mind having a china doll for a bride—and he gave every evidence of being bowled over by the beribboned beauty—the match was vastly advantageous. Lord Lowell raised his cup to his mother in silent salute.

  Lowell had no wish to hear his mother’s plans for himself, which, naturally, did not stop the duchess from telling him.

  “If you cannot manage to get dear Minerva aside from the gathering for a moment or two, you are more of a clunch than I thought.”

  Uh-oh. Lady Sparrow was dear Minerva. Well, she was a dear. Still, “This is not a mere day’s outing to see the scenery, Mother,” he insisted. “We are going to visit—”

  “I know whom you are going to visit, Lolly. And why. Minerva explained it to me. That makes it more imperative to give the appearance of a holiday. Where one is expected to make merry,” she added, in case he truly was too stupid to grasp the opportunity. “Nanny Vann is coming along so Minerva does not have to worry about the younger boys, and Dorcas and that nice Mr. Sizemore are joining us, so Westy and I can play whist after luncheon. I have great expectations in that direction, also.”

  Lowell did not for an instant think she was hoping to win a fortune. He was not disappointed.

  “Miss Albright’s nerves are not strong enough for a battery of boys,” his mother was explaining. “She will be much more content as the solicitor’s spouse. I daresay all of his chairs require new arm covers.”

  “I daresay.” He pitied the poor lawyer, who had made it to staunch middle age as a satisfied bachelor. His days were marked. Lowell decided he’d better go tell Ochs to add a bottle or two of wine to the picnic hamper. No, he’d ask Harkness, who would know better how many and which of his brother’s best bottles to bring. On his way out, he could not resist teasing: “Is Prinny coming too?”

  Without so much as looking up from the letter she was reading, the duchess said, “No, he was busy that day.”

  They were three carriages, two wagons, and Lowell’s curricle. This was not a picnic, Mina thought, it was a caravan. Armies traveled with less baggage. She doubted if Wellesley brought his own tables and chairs, dishes and glassware, footmen and maids along on a day’s foray. She thought a picnic meant sitting on a cloth on the ground, guarding one’s cold chicken and Scotch eggs from insects. To the duchess it meant moving her mansion under a tree.

  After the meal, the younger people decided to visit the famous maze while the duke, the duchess, Cousin Dorcas, and the solicitor played at cards, and Nanny Vann napped. Andrew promised Lady Millicent he would not let her get lost. In fact, he insisted on holding her hand to make sure they did not get separated in the twists and turns.

  Homer pointed out the names of every bird, bush, and butterfly, in Latin, while George tested the statuary to see if any was light enough to carry away. Martin decided he wanted to try the path through the hedges himself, one hand on the high shrubbery, his face turned to catch the sunlight. With Merlin at his side, barking, there was no danger of him getting any more lost than the others. Harkness had purchased a map of the maze, anyway. Of course.

  Mina and Lowell slipped away to where his curricle was standing.

  “What are we going to tell them?” she asked as he handed her up.

  “We won’t tell them anything. No one will miss us. If they do, they’ll just think we are lost in the maze, or strolling the gardens.”

  “No, I meant Lord Penworth, when we two strangers knock on his door in the middle of the day.”

  “Penny’s no stranger. I went to school with him. I have even been to a party or two out here.” He was not going to mention what kind of gatherings his lordship threw at his country place, of course.

  Penworth was not actually a stranger to Mina, either. The baron had sent her a bouquet of flowers, although for the life of her she could not recall his appearance. He was most likely another of the wantwits who wanted her fortune to finance their loose way of life. Ladybirds and bachelor parties, she had no doubt, the Dove and who knew what other debauchery. She sniffed her disapproval. Then, warm in her blacks out in the sun, she opened her parasol.

  Lowell thought she did not approve of popping up on Penworth’s doorstep, as if on a social call. “I’ll merely say we were out driving and the wheel felt loose, that I knew he would not mind us stopping in while his grooms looked it over. Or else I will blame my eyesight, say I misread a signpost and we got lost.”

  He did get lost, for practice, and only for a moment. Long enough for her parasol to jab him in the ear before he tossed the ruffled thing under the seat so he could kiss the countess. Now she was warmer than ever, and the sun had nothing to do with it.

  Amazingly enough, Lowell found his way immediately after.

  All of their excuses for calling at Lord Penworth’s rendezvous cottage were wasted when Peregrine himself answered the door. The boy looked neat and efficient in silver and black livery, and he appeared fit, except for a discoloration on his jaw. Mina was so happy to see Perry, she would have hugged him—except he was running too fast.

  As the lad flew past them and out the door, Lowell caught him by the collar. “Hold, my boy. Lady Sparrowdale and I mean you no harm.”

  “It don’t matter what you mean. The bloke said he’d kill me, was I to talk to her. Me or granny, leastways. He said he didn’t care which. And I can’t give your money back on account of I gave it to her to get out of town.”

  “I do not want the money, Perry. And no one is going to hurt you,” Mina promised, “or your grandmother. We’ll all be safe at the duke’s house.”

  Perry looked at Lord Lowell, with his good-natured good looks and his thick glasses. “He don’t look like no duke to me.”

  “I am not,” Lowell told him, “but my brother is. He would be pleased if you came to stay at Merrison House.”

  “Why? He need a footman? Belle says I’m a quick learner.”

  Mina said, “No. I need you to help take care of George and Martin.”

  A smile lit Perry’s bruised face. “You got Hawk out of that stinking place! I never believed you really meant it about taking care of us, and you even took the blind nipper. No one ever looked his way, to adopt the poor little bloke. They wouldn’t let me take him out, neither, saying he was always causing damage.”

  He turned to Lord Lowell. “If you’ve got Hawk, does your brother have any silverware left, gov?”

  “My man empties his pockets every night. We are working on the problem.”

  Perry grinned. “I’ll wager you are.”

  Mina told him about Jack Dawes, another half brother, who would be joining them soon. “He’s a goodly sized lad, so you won’t have to worry about anyone threatening you while he is around. And he knows all there is to know about horses, or will soon. Homer knows everythi
ng else, it seems.”

  Perry was not thrilled at having a scholar for a relative. “I don’t need no schooling.”

  “You do not need any schooling,” Mina said, correcting his grammar.

  “That’s right.”

  “No, that’s wrong. What, do you want to be a footman for the rest of your life? Waiting on—” She almost said “light skirts,” but corrected herself. Belle had been good to take Perry in, to nurse him and keep him safe. “Waiting on others?”

  “Belle says I can get to be butler someday.”

  “And if that is what you want to do, I know precisely the man to teach you what you will need to know. But there is a world of opportunities out there for a boy who is willing to learn. There’s an entire shipyard looking for clerks and engineers and master builders, besides sailors and navigators and sea captains. You can become whatever you wish, not dependent on the whims of an employer.”

  “Truly?” He looked from Mina to Lowell for confirmation.

  Lowell raised his hand. “Word of a gentleman.”

  Mina raised hers too. “Word of a shipyard owner. And a countess. So come home with us, Perry. Your dog misses you.”

  “Dog? I don’t have no dog. Granny would never allow one in the house.”

  Mina was confused. “The dog you brought to Sparrows Nest with you. The one you left with me to guarantee you’d be back after delivering the money for the children’s upkeep. I named him Merlin.”

  “Oh, that dog. I found him on the road.”

  Lowell was smiling at her. “It seems George is not the only Sparrowdale nestling with a villainous bent. I guess that means Merlin is your dog now, my lady. So what say you, Perry? Time flies and the others are waiting. Will you come with us back to London?”

  Perry was torn, they could tell. He looked from one to the other, then back down the hall of Lord Penworth’s house, where he was warm and fed but the most junior servant for all that, with no brother or friend. And Gran-ny’d have his hide, knowing he was working for Belle and the paying gentleman. “What’s the catch?” he wanted to know. “There’s always a price, Granny says.”