Released

by Adella J. Harris

  Randall was halfway to Robert’s carriage with his hearty, welcome-to-my-estate look when he realized who it was. “Why in the world did you ask Farnsdale?”

  “I have some business with him, and as it is my estate...” Randall didn’t take the hint. Lionel looked around and spotted Romley’s carriage approaching. “Oh, it looks like the Romleys are arriving.”

  “Now there’s someone worth having here. Coming?”

  “I’ll greet Farnsdale.”

  That seemed to be fine with Randall. At least he hurried down to greet his guests. Lionel went to see Robert.

  “Hello, Sir Lionel. Lovely place. So nice to be invited.” Robert kept the act up until his feet touched the ground, then he leaned in to whisper, “I hope you aren’t expecting me to do business with one of Randall’s companies.”

  “Please, Robert, I need your help.”

  He was relieved when Robert didn’t hesitate. “Of course, tell me what you need.”

  “It’s an unusual request.”

  Sir Robert gave him a small grin. “Be careful when you say that to me; I might get all sorts of ideas.”

  “I need help finding a prostitute in London. Well, a former one. Although he might have been forced back into it.”

  “And for once with you, some of my ideas might be right. Seeing as it’s you asking, I’m going to assume you’re looking for someone specific.”

  “Yes. His name is Jim. He said Jim Smith, but....”

  “Well, you’re not looking for him for his creativity, I suppose. Would you like to tell me why?”

  Lionel swallowed. Robert was his friend, but he was also familiar with most of the more exotic brothels in London. He would probably think Lionel a fool for falling in love with someone like Jim.

  But Robert seemed to read his mind. “Are you sure he felt the same? I’d hate for you to go to the trouble only to find, well, that you were a job.”

  “He told me before he left.”

  “Part of the patter?”

  “He thought I was asleep. Please, Robert, even if he doesn’t want me, I need to know he’s all right.”

  Robert nodded. “It won’t be the easiest thing I’ve done, but yes, of course I’ll help you. Try to think of anything he may have told you about his former life. Names, places, even a street corner can give me a clue to be followed. I’ll ask some of the people I know in the profession and see if anyone knows who he is. Maybe we’ll be lucky and find a former associate who he’d go to for help.”

  “If there is anything I can ever do for you...”

  “You’re going to regret saying that.”

  “Why?”

  Robert gave him a lopsided grin that told Lionel he was about to ask something he knew Lionel wouldn’t be pleased with. “Dixon’s invited me to his house party just down the way. I was going to ask you to come with me.”

  That wasn’t what Lionel had expected, but it seemed a small price to pay to get Robert’s help finding Jim. And he’d have offered to help Robert anyway, on the strength of their friendship. Still, it was an odd request. “I thought you didn’t like Dixon.”

  “Can’t stand him, really, but he’s useful to hide behind. If there’s a rumor I’ve been seen in the wrong sort of places with a man, everyone assumes it’s because of my association with Dixon. My—interests—are close enough that the lie works.”

  It was the most Robert had told him about the strange friendship he had with Dixon. “Why would that matter?”

  “In certain circles, Dixon is known for his parties, like this one. He invites a group that shares his taste for humiliation and gets a centerpiece for it. Always a man. He says a woman couldn’t handle what they plan to do to the centerpiece, but I’ve always wondered if he secretly prefers it, no matter how often he’s chasing Regina at his brothels. Anyway, I’ve heard his original plans fell through, and he’s brought someone down from London for this little affair, all rushed and very last minute, and I want to be certain they know what they’re getting into. If not, I at least want to warn them. Besides, if it is someone I’ve known, he’ll be the sort of person I’m asking about your Jim. Please come.”

  “Certainly, but why do you want me there?”

  “You offered, and more importantly, when they see your reaction to the place, it’ll give me an excuse to get out of there as soon as I see who the centerpiece is. I said he was useful, not that I enjoy his company.”

  Lionel shrugged. He didn’t understand Robert’s tastes in pleasure, but he was a good friend. “Tell me when, and I’ll come.”

  Robert was going to say something more, but Mr. Kippering was coming in their direction with his three daughters. Robert shook his head and hurried away.

  --*--

  The journey to Beckwood Hall was not what Jim was expecting. Balford was clearly in a hurry to get there and only stopped to change the horses. Apparently, Dixon’s party was more of a rush than they’d let on. Vaguely, Jim thought he probably could have negotiated for more money, but it didn’t seem to matter. The road seemed more crowded than he remembered it being from his journey with Lionel, although perhaps that was because he’d been busy paying attention to Lionel rather than what was going on outside the carriage. Now, anything was preferable to his travel companion. He was careful not to look in the direction of Hensley House when they passed the road leading to it. Murdoc had his own sense of honor, and Jim had the impression that it had included keeping quiet about seeing him with Lionel. Otherwise, he doubted Dixon would have agreed to let him roam around so close to a place where he knew someone, certainly not one of the major landholders in the area. And Balford would have been making crude jokes about it for certain.

  Beckwood Hall was not like Hensley House at all. It had been built around the same time and was still well maintained, but where Lionel’s home had the bustle of servants and tenants around it, Beckwood Hall was very quiet, almost empty. It was not a working estate, merely a place for Dixon to host his parties. Jim could see the stable block looming before them, with several stable hands getting horses and carriages sorted out. He was wondering what Balford’s plans were for him when Murdoc stepped out of the side door and waved them down.

  “About time. Half the guests are here.”

  “Couldn’t make the usual time. The roads are crowded.”

  “Well, you’re here now. Get the horses stabled and make certain everything’s in order there. I’ll get him to his lordship.”

  Jim could hear Balford grumble as he climbed out of the carriage, and he knew Balford had been planning something for him in the stables before bringing him to the house. Murdoc grabbed Jim’s arm and brought him into the small anteroom off the kitchen.

  “Half the guests are here and waiting to be greeted.” Murdoc chuckled. “Well, you know how it works.”

  Jim shrugged and stripped off his clothes. He didn’t want to let Murdoc or anyone else know how shaken he was being back working for Dixon. He was surprised himself at how jittery he felt, as if he were really catching the chill Mrs. O’Brien had been worried about. He certainly wouldn’t think of her while he was here. He tried for sounding insolent. That would make Murdoc want to punish him, and that would keep his mind off of things he shouldn’t be thinking about, which included everything about Hensley House. “You’re still here then?”

  Murdoc held out the bottle of oil. “Perks are too good. I’ll be wanting to use that mouth of yours.”

  “Of course. Same as everyone.” He filled his hand with oil and started to slick his body, taking extra care to grease his hole well. No one else would bother with that. Murdoc watched him. When he decided Jim was ready, he grabbed his arm and dragged him out to the main areas of the house.

  Lionel hadn’t had a chance to speak to Robert after their brief greeting, and he was beyond bored with all of Randall’s guests. All they seemed to want to do was mill around in the study and the morning room and drink his Scotch and his brandy and drag him into boring discussions of who did wh
at to whom, but only when the who and whom were not present. If these were the sorts of people Randall and Father had been making business deals with, no wonder the company had been failing. It was almost a relief when Harrison came up to him and whispered, “There’s a Mr. Quincy here to see the magistrate. It seems he is a solicitor from Little Poltern.”

  “Quite a ways to come to report something,” Lionel whispered as he edged towards the door.

  “He seems the sort who would travel a great distance if he thought someone else was engaged in wrongdoing.” Harrison said it with just the right amount of contempt to tell him what his butler thought of the visitor.

  “I’d best go see what he wants.”

  “I’ve put him in the red parlor, sir.”

  That made Lionel smile. The red parlor was just off the foyer, and Harrison put guests there when he didn’t want them to feel they’d been invited into the house. It was a sign of how dismal the party was that Lionel was happy to be interrupted by someone Harrison disapproved of.

  Mr. Quincy was the sort of person Lionel expected, fussy, self-righteous, managing to be both envious and disdainful of his surroundings. And yet he was still better than most of Randall’s friends. “Mr. Quincy, you were looking for me?”

  Mr. Quincy turned, and the flash of the pettier side of his nature Lionel had caught was quickly replaced by a cool politeness that was most likely what he used on his clients. “I am sorry to have disturbed your house party.”

  Good. If Mr. Quincy thought he was irritated about the party, he wouldn’t realize it was the man himself who was the problem. “Not at all. I did agree to act as magistrate with all the associated responsibilities. Now, how can I be of assistance?”

  “I wanted you to know that there is a prostitute in the area.”

  Lionel almost said, “Only the one?” but caught himself. “And you have knowledge of this how?”

  “I was informed by a source who wished to remain anonymous.”

  “And why did this source go to you and not me?”

  “He wished to warn me. The person in question was trying to buy a piece of property I was selling.”

  Lionel had never been so glad to have taken on an obligation than he was in that moment. “And you did not suspect anything?”

  “Of course not. I would never have agreed to the sale had I known. And as I am no longer residing here, I would have had no way of knowing.”

  “But he had the money?”

  “Oh yes, he placed a down payment to secure matters until we could get the paperwork completed.”

  So how much did Quincy know about Jim? Was it enough to make him dangerous to his friend? “Tell me exactly how it happened.”

  “There isn’t much to tell. The man came to my law office in Little Poltern and asked to be shown some properties. I showed him a place I inherited that I’m selling, as it seemed to meet his requirements, and he agreed to purchase it. I asked him to leave the good faith money, which he agreed to.”

  “How much?”

  “Two-thirds of the price.”

  “That seems rather high.”

  “I didn’t know him, and there has been other interest in the place. In any case, he left the money, and I prepared the paperwork. Before he returned the next morning, Mr....”

  Lionel hoped he’d slip and give the name, but Quincy caught himself.

  “I’ll call him Mr. X. Mr. X came and told me all about the man’s past.”

  “And how did Mr. X know about it?”

  “He said he lived in the area where it happened.”

  Lionel turned that over in his mind but couldn’t decide who Mr. X might be.

  “When Mr. Smith returned to sign the papers, I threw him out.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Of course. I wasn’t going to stay and converse with the man.”

  “Then how did you return the money?” Perhaps there would be a clue to where Jim was heading.

  “Return the money?”

  Lionel saw the opening to protect Jim, if it was Jim. But how many prostitutes with enough money to buy a property could there be around Lincoln-on-Marsh? “Surely you returned the money.”

  “I...”

  “You wouldn’t want to have such ill-gotten gains lying around your office, now, would you?”

  “Well, I...”

  “And if it got out that you had broken a deal that had been agreed to, and then kept the good-faith money, while the residents of the area might thank you for maintaining the gentility of the neighborhood, they’re certainly not going to ask you to handle any transactions for them.”

  “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

  “Then it’s a good thing you came to me. Let me see if I can get you out of this mess.” Lionel pretended to think. “Well, first, you certainly can’t mention this to anyone else. The first thing they’d want to know is how you could get so far in a transaction without knowing who you were dealing with. I know—if it comes up, we’ll just say the person in question never returned, so you brought the good-faith money to me as magistrate to hold in trust in case he comes back for it. Where is the money now?”

  “In my safe at home.”

  “Excellent. Go and get it and bring it to me. I’ll set up an account at my bank and deposit the sum there.” He would simply deposit his own money in whatever amount Quincy brought over and remove it after this whole thing had blown over. And best of all, he now had a real reason to go looking for Jim.

  “Thank you, Westin. I’d always thought you were a bit of a strange sort, but this has put my mind at ease.”

  “My job, Mr. Quincy, nothing more. Now, what did the person in question look like?”

  “Smallish, dark hair, shifty eyes. I should have known by the eyes, but one doesn’t like to judge by appearances. Long nose, weak chin.”

  Lionel nodded several times and took notes. The description sounded nothing like Jim except for the coloring, and the more Quincy spoke, the less it sounded like him. Jim had a very nice nose, and his chin was certainly not weak. Hopefully, it meant Quincy wouldn’t recognize him if he saw him in a different context, say the gardens of Hensley House.

  Chapter 17

  ***

  AS THE LATE-MORNING SUN CAME THROUGH the kitchen window, Jim rolled over on his pallet and groaned. He was sore everywhere, and it was only the first day. He dragged himself to his feet and took stock of himself. The oil had dried on his skin, leaving him sticky and uncomfortable, but then he’d have to become used to it. He twisted to have a look at his back. Sore but not welted. He sighed. They’d bring out the flogger tonight. But he had a few hours before anyone woke up. He pulled his clothes from under the pallet and dressed. At least he’d managed to negotiate for those. They were his oldest ones, just in case Dixon took them away or Balford tore them up in an effort to keep him at the house. He didn’t doubt either was a possibility, so he needed to take advantage of what time he could get away. He wouldn’t go as far as Lionel’s manor house, not when he looked like the whore he was, but a little walk on the grounds, look at the plants, breathe the air where he had been happy for a while, there was no harm in that.

  Lionel went down to the breakfast room to find it filled with bleary-eyed guests who were still tired out from their journeys and a night spent drinking and gossiping. He was surprised how well his suggestion of a picnic went over. Apparently, no one was in the mood for anything more taxing than a carriage ride to some nice lawn where they could sit. At least everyone except Randall, who tried to get support for the idea of a hunt, which not only couldn’t be gotten together in time, but would have required finding something to entertain the ladies and the bleary-eyed guests who didn’t want to ride, which was a large part of the group. Randall grudgingly conceded when all the people he hoped to impress were enthusiastic for Lionel’s picnic then tried to make it seem his idea, which didn’t work as Robert kept asking Randall if he was certain he didn’t mind not being able to shoot at things. That left L
ionel free to worry about the logistics. The only spot large enough to accommodate the group and still have a nice view was the lawn just above the ha-ha where he’d been taking Jim the day before he left, but perhaps that wasn’t a bad thing. It might give Robert some idea as to why Jim ran from him.

  So in the end, it was quite a cheerful party that set out in every carriage and cart the staff could manage to find. Mrs. O’Brien had outdone herself with the lunch preparations, and as several of the gentlemen had peered into the hampers as they were loaded, most of the group was quite eager to get to the picnic spot. Some of the guests were even decent company when they weren’t in their cups or half-asleep after their journey down from London. As they passed the spot where the cart had broken down, Lionel felt a little frisson of sadness. Robert was seated next to him and noticed. As there were other guests, he couldn’t do more than offer a friendly pat on the arm, but Lionel was glad of it. The trees were thick enough that he couldn’t see Beckwood Hall. That was one of the first things he’d tell his new gardener—figure out how to keep the woods dense enough that Dixon’s guests wouldn’t come wandering onto his property.

  The picnic spot was met with enthusiasm, and even Romley said Lionel was lucky to have such a view. Only Randall seemed out of sorts as the servants set up tables and cushions and the gentlemen escorted the ladies to the various seating locations. “How am I supposed to get any business done?”

  Lionel was tempted to say that perhaps it should have been done in London, but he held his tongue. An argument with Randall would take time away from his first chance to have a proper chat with Robert. “You said they like Mrs. O’Brien’s cooking. Maybe the lunch will make them mellow and easy to negotiate with.” He looked around, hoping to spot Robert so he could motion for him to go into the trees, where they could talk with some privacy.