The Saint of Seven Dials: Collector's Edition

by Brenda Hiatt

  "No, he challenged me. I could hardly refuse, could I?"

  Knox stared. "He challenged you? And how did that come about, may I ask?"

  Haltingly, Bellowsworth related the entire conversation between himself and the upstart Lord Hardwyck. At the conclusion, Knox's mouth twisted unpleasantly.

  "He was right, you know. You're not worthy of her." The marquess' head came up in protest, but Knox waved him to silence. "Fear not, however. You'll be in no danger. I'll see to that."

  "But . . . how?" Resentment battled with hope in Bellowsworth's pale brown eyes.

  "I've been making inquiries, and have even put to use certain information you have given me, of which you apparently missed the significance. All things considered, it is entirely possible that we can have young Hardwyck taken up by the authorities before your dreaded meeting takes place."

  "Taken up . . . ? On what charge?"

  Smiling, Knox took a long draught of ale before answering, enjoying the other man's impatience. "My dear Lord Bellowsworth," he answered at length, "I have every reason to believe that Luke Di Santo, now styling himself Earl of Hardwyck, is none other than the notorious Saint of Seven Dials."

  CHAPTER 20

  Pearl was still seething when she rounded the corner of Mount Street. How dared Luke risk their future this way? Couldn't he see that Bellowsworth was not worth any such sacrifice? She focused on her anger, refusing for the moment to consider the significance of his final remark.

  Looking up, she saw John Marley waiting for her atop the bay gelding. His relief when he spotted her was obvious. "I'd begun to worry you'd gone home by a different way, my lady," he commented, falling into position behind her.

  "My apologies, John. I found riding particularly exhilarating today, so continued longer than I had intended." Much of her earlier exhilaration and contentment had been swamped by anger and worry, however.

  The Duchess emerged from the breakfast room as she entered the front hall. "So you return at last," she said by way of greeting. "Do not tell me you were riding until now, as your abigail informed me."

  "I was indeed, your grace. The morning is exceedingly fine. I brought a groom, for propriety's sake." Pearl kept her voice pleasant, though it cost her an effort.

  "Get upstairs and change out of your habit at once," her stepmother said then, abandoning the argument before it could begin. "Morning callers may arrive at any moment, and you will wish to look your best— particularly for Lord Bellowsworth, who I daresay is still somewhat offended by the attention Lord Hardwyck paid you last night."

  "I daresay," Pearl echoed, a spurt of amusement lightening her mood briefly as she remembered the look on Bellowsworth's face twenty minutes since. "If he does not call, we will know just how offended, I presume."

  Before Obelia could do more than gasp in outrage, Pearl headed up the wide staircase, anxious for a few moments alone with her thoughts. Hettie was waiting in her chambers, however, so her musings had to be put off while her maid scurried to divest her of her habit and help her into a primrose-yellow morning gown. Brushing out Pearl's hair, Hettie regarded her mistress knowingly in the glass.

  "You've had quite a morning, I take it, my lady," she commented.

  Pearl frowned at her abigail's reflection. "Why do you say that? Simply because I am so late returning?" In truth, it had been the most momentous morning of her life, but she could not tell Hettie that— not yet. Not until she had puzzled things through.

  "That and . . . other things. You have a different look about you, somehow. I hope everything is all right?"

  "I hope so too," said Pearl with a sigh.

  Hettie did not probe further but completed Pearl's toilette in silence, then left her in much-needed solitude. Pearl knew that the Duchess would be sending for her the moment their first caller arrived, but she was determined not to go down beforehand. Instead, she went to the window near the fireplace and gazed sightlessly down at the gardens below.

  We won't have to elope after all.

  The words she had avoided contemplating returned the moment she dropped her guard. Surely . . . surely he had meant that if Bellowsworth released her from their betrothal, they could marry more conventionally? But he had not said so. He had only suggested an elopement when no other way out of her predicament presented itself.

  Now it seemed he was eager to grasp at any alternative, even at grave risk to himself. He would sooner risk death or arrest than sacrifice himself on the altar of matrimony.

  Pearl tried to tell herself she should be pleased. A quick elopement would have meant giving up Fairbourne, as her birthday was still more than three weeks distant. Now it would be secure. Somehow, though, that reflection brought her no satisfaction. The thought of living on, managing, the estate— alone— seemed unutterably dreary. With whom would she share her successes? To whom would she turn for advice and reassurance?

  It seemed she was not quite so independent as she had believed. Vainly, she tried to summon pride to her aid, but even pride failed her. Without Luke, her sense of purpose seemed to have evaporated. Listlessly, she turned from the window just as a tap came at the door.

  "Her grace bids you join her below, my lady," came a maid's voice through the panels. "Callers are arriving."

  With a spurt of hope that one of the callers might be Luke, here to dispell her worries, Pearl checked her appearance one last time in the glass and left her chamber.

  Luke was not below, however. Old Mrs. Haverstock, widow of their former vicar, was the only caller, joined shortly by Lady Wittington and Miss Chalmers, who apparently spent every morning of their existance calling upon others. Over the next two hours, a fair number of ladies and one or two gentlemen came to pay their respects and exchange gossip, but there was no sign of Luke —nor of Lord Bellowsworth.

  At length everyone had gone and Pearl followed the Duchess to the dining room for luncheon. She was famished, as she had completely neglected to eat breakfast. Her stepmother's first words took the edge from her appetite, however.

  "I knew it. You have offended Lord Bellowsworth more severely than I feared, else he would have called this morning."

  This time the memory of this morning's encounter brought no amusement with it. "So it would seem. Or perhaps his mother required him."

  But what kept Luke away?

  As the afternoon drew on, Pearl again allowed herself to hope that he might appear to invite her for a drive —but he did not. Nor did he make an appearance at Lady Wittington's ridotto that evening. Bellowsworth was absent as well, though he had originally planned to meet Pearl there.

  Though the Duchess clearly considered this a most ominous sign, Pearl was quite grateful for his absence, as any meeting right now would be awkward in the extreme, and perhaps even disastrous should he find himself unable to hold his tongue about what he had seen this morning. But it did not make up for Luke's failure to appear.

  The next morning, she arrived at their accustomed path in Hyde Park even earlier than before. John had insisted on remaining with her this time, after Hettie had impressed upon him the importance of doing so, but Pearl did not care. Just a few private moments with Luke would be necessary to allay her fears . . . she hoped.

  But though she waited for well over an hour, cantering up and down the lane, he never joined her.

  Riding slowly back to Berkley Square, Pearl's imagination ran riot with wild fears. Had the duel already taken place? Had Luke killed Bellowsworth after all, and been forced to flee the country? Or perhaps Bellowsworth had ordered his arrest for challenging him, coward that he was. Could a peer be arrested for such a cause? She did not know. But how if that peer were also accused of thievery? Just how much did Bellowsworth know?

  These and even more horrifying suppositions occupied her throughout breakfast and another tedious bout of morning callers, rendering her quite unsociable. The last caller was leaving, and already Obelia was frowning in preparation for another tirade, when a late visitor was announced.


  "Lord Hardwyck," the butler intoned.

  Hope, relief, disbelieving joy, all sent Pearl's spirits soaring —until she saw Luke's face. "My lord?" she asked uncertainly as he bowed over her hand, mindful of the Duchess' proximity. "Is anything wrong?"

  He met her eyes then, his own tired and bleak. "Merely a matter of a missing servant, my lady," he responded. She could hear the effort it took to keep his voice steady. "I confess I am concerned, however."

  "La!" exclaimed the Duchess. "You will find, Lord Hardwyck, that servants can be most unreliable. If someone offers them better wages, they are gone in an instant, with no thought of the loyalty they owe you."

  "Of course, your grace," he said stiffly, moving to take a seat. Pearl had never seen him so dejected.

  It was already past the fashionable hour for calls, so he would likely not remain long, but Pearl was determined to have a private word with him before he left. Under the pretext of asking his opinion on a bit of needlework she'd done, she managed to lean close enough to whisper without her stepmother overhearing.

  "Is it Flute who is missing?"

  He nodded. "Since yesterday morning. I fear— Yes, the combination of blue and green is most pleasing," he concluded in a louder voice, as the Duchess turned a suspicious eye upon them.

  A moment later he rose, preparatory to leaving. "Perhaps if you are not otherwise engaged, you might care for a drive this afternoon, my lady?"

  "Must I remind you, Lord Hardwyck, that Lady Pearl is betrothed?" The Duchess was clearly outraged —again.

  "Am I not to be allowed to take the air until Lord Bellowsworth sees fit to grace me with his company?" asked Pearl, just as haughtily. "I am not yet his wife, that he may order my comings and goings. I should be pleased to drive out with you, my lord."

  "You are all kindness, my lady." Turning to the Duchess with a deep bow, he added, "I promise to behave with all propriety, your grace. A drive, nothing more."

  Obelia sniffed, but offered no further objection until he was gone. Then she turned to Pearl, her fine eyes narrowed. "May I have a similar promise from you?"

  Wide-eyed, Pearl responded, "Of course, your grace. What do you take me for?"

  "Perhaps the less said on that subject, the better." With that stinging retort, she swept from the room.

  Pearl, after a moment's consideration, decided to take her meal in her chambers. Not only would that spare her further barbs, but she wished to plan for her outing. She must be ready for any eventuality, even a sudden elopement, though she knew in her heart that was less likely than ever.

  She remained in her chambers until Luke arrived. There still had been no word whatsoever from Lord Bellowsworth, which she knew must look exceedingly odd to Obelia. She wondered whether she had mentioned it to her father.

  The moment she heard Luke's voice below, she hurried downstairs, unwilling to leave him tête-à-tête with her stepmother for even a few moments.

  "I'm so pleased the weather has held fine," she said brightly, intercepting him before he could enter the parlor. "Here is my maid now. Shall we go?"

  Luke still appeared somber and unwilling to tarry, so with only a formal bow to the Duchess, he motioned for Pearl to precede him down the front steps to his waiting curricle. The groom holding the horses was unfamiliar to her, which she presumed meant that Flute had not yet returned.

  Luke took the reins, the groom sitting up behind with Hettie, as Flute had done on their previous drive. Though she was fair to bursting with curiosity, Pearl waited until they were well away from Oakshire House to speak.

  "Any news?"

  "I'm afraid so," he replied quietly, but whether because of lowered spirits or because he did not wish to speak freely before the groom she couldn't tell. "He was arrested in Seven Dials yesterday. I just discovered it an hour ago."

  "Arrested?" Pearl whispered, a hand at her throat. "What did . . . He didn't . . . ?"

  "No. He was simply visiting a friend there. I was finally able to find someone who saw what happened. I feared it might be the case, when Argos was found dragging his lead, not far from where I . . . from where Flute's friend lives."

  Pearl believed she understood. "Then it was because of, ah, prior events that he was apprehended?"

  "So it would seem."

  They drove in silence until reaching the Park gates, at which point Luke pulled to a halt and turned to the groom. "Sam, take Lady Pearl's abigail for a turn about the loop here. The lady and I wish to walk for a bit."

  Luke helped Pearl out of the curricle and the groom obeyed without question, though Hettie frowned and craned her neck to watch her mistress as they drove on. "Sam is new," Luke explained the moment they were out of earshot. "One or two of my other servants have vouched for him, but I don't know him well myself yet. No point in running unnecessary risks."

  "How much do your servants know about you?" Pearl asked curiously.

  He shrugged. "Flute knows the most of course, and a fair number are lads I knew from before —lads who deserved a chance at a better life."

  "Boys who also helped you to steal?" she asked dubiously. She'd nearly managed to forget that distasteful aspect of Luke's former "career."

  "No, no. Flute is the only one who ever worked directly with me, and never in any actual robberies. He merely helped me convert my, er, takings into coin. I had opportunity to get to know several of his street mates, however, and did what I could to better their lot— which wasn't much, until recently."

  Pearl's heart swelled with admiration for the man he was, then and now, but she returned to the matter at hand, knowing they didn't have much time. "But now Flute has been arrested as your former accomplice?"

  "Yes. I had the news of Mrs. Plank —she's the one who found Argos. It seems Flute walked him down to Seven Dials to visit a few old cronies of his, while he was making himself scarce yesterday morning."

  Pearl flushed at the memory of why Luke would have given him such instructions, but he continued without seeming to notice.

  "Apparently word was all over the streets today that Flute was apprehended not far from there —at my old lodgings, in fact. It seems the place was still being watched. I'd have thought Bow Street would have moved on to other matters by now. The Mountheaths must be paying them well." He shook his head.

  "Do you know where he is being held? Perhaps we need merely pay a fine, or—"

  "Yes, that's odd, as well. He's already been locked up in Newgate, though there's been no time for a hearing as yet. An unusual precaution, considering the trifling nature of his crime, I must say. As unusual as the publicity surrounding his capture."

  Pearl thought for a moment as they slowly strolled along. "Perhaps they are concerned —or hoping? —that the Saint might try to rescue him."

  Luke sent her a grim smile. "My thought exactly —which leaves me with a bit of a dilemma, as you might imagine. I can hardly leave him there to rot in my stead, after all."

  "But if they are expecting you . . . Wait, I may have an idea. But first, tell me of your meeting with Bellowsworth. Has it not yet taken place?"

  He shook his head. "His second— Ribbleton— did not even call upon mine until late last evening, Marcus tells me. They've set the meeting for Friday morning, two days hence."

  She snorted. "I'd have thought he'd have wanted to get it over quickly, but perhaps he is hoping the delay will allow him a chance to avoid it altogether." A sudden thought struck her. "Could he have been involved in Flute's arrest, think you?"

  "I doubt it, as it must have happened before I issued the challenge. Merely a lucky coincidence for him, I imagine, should my rescue attempt prove unsuccessful."

  "But it won't! Here's my idea." Quickly she outlined her simple plan, but he was shaking his head even before she could finish.

  "I can't let you involve yourself in this, Pearl. It's too risky."

  "Far less risky than if you go alone —as yourself. Surely you must see that? Even if we are unsuccessful, no blame will attach to me. But
what about your part in this scheme? Can you do it?"

  "I'm sure I can, but—"

  "Then it's settled." Her tone brooked no argument. She knew she was being high-handed again, but she didn't care. Luke's safety was too important to her.

  He walked beside her in silence for a long while, frowning, clearly weighing various options. Finally, just as the curricle approached them again, he said, "Very well. But I reserve the right to call the whole thing off if I believe for a moment that you could be in any danger."

  "Agreed," she said cheerfully, her spirits higher than they'd been since they parted yesterday.

  They hadn't had any opportunity to discuss their own future, but she was willing to leave that for another time. It was enough to know he still cared, and that she could be of use to him.

  "It has been some time since I went on a charitable crusade," Pearl said as Luke handed her back into the curricle. "I'm sure I will feel the better for the one I plan tomorrow."

  "An admirable undertaking, my lady— one I mean to emulate someday." Luke took his place on her right and flicked the reins, putting the pair into a trot.

  As the Duchess had never shown any interest in charity, Pearl was confident she could convince her to let her go alone, with only a servant or two. As they drove back to Oakshire House, she was already eagerly anticipating tomorrow's adventure.

  * * *

  Luke had to admire Pearl's command as he followed her into the courtyard of Newgate Prison the next morning, along with John Marley, her erstwhile groom, and her abigail, Hettie. Dressed in nondescript, nonidentifiable livery, Luke was masquerading as a manservant, while she was every inch the grand lady out to do good among the poor and downtrodden.

  "You there! Guard!" she called to a uniformed man standing near the outer door. "I have brought clothing for the prisoners, and wish to dispense advice to some of the women as well. Summon the chaplain, if you please."

  At her nod, Luke and the others pulled bundles of old clothing, discards of the Oakshire servants, from the carriage.