In this instance, he thought grimly as he hailed a hackney and set off for Bow Street, it was useful to have friends in low places.
* * *
Fortunately, for he didn’t want to explain to Giles what had taken him so long to ‘discharge his errand’, Mr Hines was in his office when Davie arrived.
‘Mr Smith, good to see you again!’ Hines said, waving Davie to a chair. ‘All going well in Parliament, I hear? About to strike a blow for the common man?’
‘We certainly hope so.’
‘As I imagine you are aware, we got a conviction in the case of the man hired to shoot at Lady Roberts—that is, Lady Lyndlington now. With both families involved strongly urging to the judge that clemency be shown, he was transported, rather than hanged.’
‘Let me commend you again for how expeditiously your men handled that case.’
Hines nodded, accepting the compliment as his due—which he should; the man was efficient and fanatically persistent in solving the cases brought to him. ‘Always glad to help out a man who has given us so much assistance from time to time. So, what brings you to me today?’
‘A rather delicate matter, one whose resolution requires discretion and actions that might not precisely follow the letter of the law. Actions, I must warn you, taken against a man of high standing, who could make a lot of trouble for both of us if the business isn’t handled properly.’
‘So it involves a female,’ Hines said, interpreting Davie’s euphemisms. ‘A woman some high-ranking gent is trying to abuse, like that earl’s son in the case of Lady Lyndlington?’
‘Something similar. Though I would far prefer to handle the situation personally, if the...actions could be traced back to me, the man in question might be able to make further trouble for the lady. So I’m looking for two or three skilled individuals, who can perform the actual...intervention.’
Hines nodded thoughtfully. ‘Them higher-ups been bending the law to suit them for centuries. I reckon it’s only fair it be bent a time or two against them—especially if it’s to protect a female. I know you got too much respect for the law to ask me for help on this, if the cause wasn’t right and just. What type of “intervention” do you have in mind?’
Davie described what he envisioned, Hines making suggestions at various points to improve the plan. Within a half hour, they’d worked out a scenario that satisfied them both with its safety and efficiency, and its ability to be implemented soon, perhaps that very night.
Leaving Hines to put the finishing touches on the scheme, with directions about contacting him later to launch it, Davie thanked the man again and took his leave. Knowing that he most likely would be able to snap off the problem of Lord Randall like the branch he’d wanted to break in the garden this afternoon, he was able to return to the committee room calm, resolved and full of purpose.
* * *
It was mid-evening by the time the committee completed its deliberations, and the Hellions were free for the night. Just as they were finishing up, a boy delivered a note to Davie that greatly relieved his mind.
The very efficient Hines had come through again. They’d be able to put the plan into action this very evening.
‘Shall we head off to the Quill and Gavel?’ Ben Tawny’s question interrupted Davie’s thoughts. Rolling his tired shoulders, he added ‘After all those hours bent over documents, I could do with a good roast and a large tankard of ale.’
‘Before you head off to find refreshment of a more intimate and satisfying sort?’ Christopher Lattimer asked with a grin.
‘Naturally,’ Ben replied. ‘You’re welcome to come along. Sally has several friends, all of them as voluptuous and playful as she is.’
‘I just might,’ Christopher said. ‘Giles, you’re off to your lady wife, I expect. Davie, will you join us for dinner? For as we know only too well, you’ll not join us for the festivities after.’
‘Certainly not!’ Ben said. ‘The Saint will return to his empty rooms, to worship at the shrine of “the Unattainable”, and find whatever pleasure he can reading musty old legal documents.’
‘He’s been worse than ever since—for no good reason any of us can tell—he started seeing her again,’ Christopher observed.
‘Well, having beheld her up close, I can better understand why he’s worshipped all these years. Although, Davie, you still know nothing can come of it. Isn’t it time you bowed to reality and set your sights on someone more suitable?’
‘Isn’t it time you both stopped harassing him and let him make that choice?’ Giles interposed.
Refusing to be drawn by their banter, Davie simply shrugged. ‘I can’t join you gentlemen for dinner, either—and not just because you can’t seem to stop pestering me.’
‘I did refrain from pursuing the Vision myself,’ Ben pointed out. ‘You owe me something for that, because she truly is delectable. And after all those years tied to a fool like Ashedon, she deserves a little...frolic, with a man who can make sure she enjoys it.’
Finally goaded beyond endurance, Davie sent Ben a thunderous look that had his friend laughing as he raised his hands protectively in front of his face. ‘Pax! Don’t try that punishing roundhouse punch out on me.’
Reminded of where he wished he could use it, Davie said, ‘You push me very close to the edge, but, alas, that’s not to be. I do have some urgent business to complete, though.’
‘More urgent business?’ Giles asked quietly. ‘Anything the Hellions can help you with?’
‘Not now. Not yet. But if...circumstances develop in that direction, I will certainly let you know.’
‘Then all we can do, is hope the enterprise prospers,’ Giles said.
‘If Davie doesn’t need us, I’m ready for dinner. Come, Christopher, let’s find a good roast.’
‘And then on to more delectable entertainment,’ Christopher added as the two friends sauntered out.
Giles lingered, regarding Davie silently until the other Hellions were out of earshot. ‘You’ve been tense as an overwound watch all day. Are you sure I can’t help?’
‘Not tonight, which I hope will resolve the matter.’
‘Then I will hope so, too.’ Giving him a clap on the arm, Giles said, ‘You’ve done me a good turn more times than I care to mention. Just know I stand ready to return the favour.’
Davie smiled. ‘Considering that, if you hadn’t befriended me in that tavern in Oxford all those years ago, I might be toiling away as a lonely law clerk in some barrister’s office today, rather than working towards the most significant piece of legislation in the last four hundred years, I think we can call ourselves even.’
‘Friends don’t keep score. Don’t forget the offer, though. I’m off to Maggie.’
‘Give her my love.’
‘I’ll do that.’ With a final nod, Giles walked out, leaving Davie in sole possession of the committee room. For a few minutes, he paced the length of it, going over in his mind each step in his plan for the night. Then, satisfied he’d calculated every angle and considered every detail, he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and set out.
* * *
The initial move had him strolling into an area of London he seldom visited, a slip of a lad trailing him. Until recently, when the government sinecures he’d been awarded had begun providing him with a steady income, he’d not possessed enough blunt beyond what was essential to pay for his food and lodging, to think of wasting any on gaming. Not that, he thought, looking askance at the knots of young men swaggering down the street from gaming hell to gaming hell, their fine garments proclaiming them as gentlemen of privilege, he could ever have been persuaded to throw away good coin on games of chance.
Solid farm boy that he was, he thought with a wry grin, whenever he got a penny to spare, he’d saved it to invest in good English land—and now possesse
d a fine small estate, a fact that gave him far more satisfaction than the lucky outcome of a frivolous game.
A moment later, he reached his destination. With his imposing size and prosperous look, he was easily granted access to Aphrodite’s Dice, a hell known both for its deep play and its lovely—and available—women. When the proprietor, spying a gent who might be a new pigeon for plucking, tried to induce him to join in some game of chance, he politely declined, informing them he was there as a friend of Mr Hine’s.
The man’s eyes widened before he nodded. ‘Very good, sir. Would you like a glass of wine while you wait?’
Accepting that, he followed the proprietor, who led him into the next room and nodded towards a table. There sat Lord Randall, rolling a pair of the dice featured in the establishment’s name, the glass of brandy in his other hand continually replenished by the scantily attired lovely at his side.
‘The preparations are all made. Did you want to have a word with the gentleman—before?’ the proprietor murmured.
‘Not as yet.’
‘As you wish.’
Giving him a short bow, the proprietor exited, and Davie turned to watch Lord Randall. It appeared, as arranged, he was currently winning, for the stack of counters in front of him had been steadily growing. Intent on the play, his eyes glazed with the feverish look of the hardened gamester, he was oblivious to all else, even the blandishments of the lady wielding the brandy decanter, whom he pushed away when, from time to time, she leaned over to whisper in his ear.
After one particularly successful run, he gave a crow of triumph, leaning back to seize the hand the harlot had rested on his shoulder and pulling it down to rub at his groin. ‘Feel that power, Letty?’ he crowed. ‘Stronger and sweeter than brandy. You’ll be getting a mouthful, soon as I finish off this round.’
Davie only hoped the man hadn’t used such crude terms with Faith. The very thought made him clench his fists, and he had to force himself to remember all the good reasons he couldn’t just walk over and punch Lord Randall in the gut.
Since he’d turned down the offers of the other young ladies who strolled up to accompany him to the card tables, the faro bank—or upstairs—they soon left him alone. He found himself pitying not only the unfortunate women who had to service such clients, but the gaming-crazed young men who seemed unable to walk away from the tables until they’d spent their last coin.
Imagine, he thought—watching as one well-dressed gentleman dropped almost five hundred guineas—having that much blunt, and just tossing it away.
Finally, the moment for which he’d been patiently waiting arrived. Lord Randall, happily finished at his table, pawed up his winnings and staggered upright, leaning on the shoulder of his doxy. As he crossed the room towards the stairway to the chambers above, he finally spotted Davie, and halted.
A slow smile on his face, he patted the doxy on the bottom and said, ‘Go on up, honey. I’ll meet you in a trice.’ Giving her a push towards the stairs, he sauntered over to Davie.
‘Well, well,’ he said, subjecting Davie to a slow, insolent inspection from his boots to the crown of his head. ‘You’re that guttersnipe politician who’s been sniffing around my brother’s wife, aren’t you? Wonder they let so low-born a cur in the place. Might have to take my custom elsewhere.’
‘I’m sure they’ll be delighted if you do. The women, at least.’
‘Ah, yes, women.’ He smirked. ‘Ashedon’s doxy wife, in particular, eh? Can’t blame you being interested—she’s a choice little morsel. So hot-blooded, I’m having trouble holding her off! But she’s not available—at least, not until I’m done with her.’
Gritting his teeth against the compulsion to knock the varmint to his knees with one well-placed blow, Davie made himself reply calmly, ‘I think you will be “done with her” very soon. Tonight, as a matter of fact.’
‘I will, will I? When I haven’t truly started yet? No, indeed!’ Randall struck an exaggerated pose, hands on hips. ‘You’re thinking you can make me?’
‘I won’t need to. Your conscience is going to persuade you it’s only right to stop harassing your brother’s widow.’
Randall burst out laughing. ‘What, she tell you tales? Say I “threatened” her, or some such? Thing is, she’s so unsophisticated and simple, she exaggerates or misrepresents what she hears.’
Davie nodded. ‘I’m rather unsophisticated and simple myself. But I understand what a bruised wrist represents. So you’re not going to see her again. In fact, you’re not going back to Berkeley Square—ever.’
Randall’s smile faded. ‘You know, you’re not so amusing any more. Why don’t you leave, before I have the proprietor eject you? And if you have the audacity to come around me again, trying to tell a duke’s brother how to treat his women, I’ve got a little warning for you. Persist in this, and I’ll tell the trustees overlooking her brats about the little trysts between you two. Yes, I’ve seen you, bringing her and the sons back in the carriage. Don’t think the trustees would hold with a duchess rutting in the gutter with a commoner—while her dear children watch. I’m guessing they’d whisk those boys away faster than she could find herself a handkerchief to boo-hoo in. Face it, guttersnipe. You can’t help her. You can only destroy her.’
‘Whereas you don’t care if you destroy her,’ Davie said, calling on all the willpower he possessed to keep from pummelling Evers then and there.
Randall smiled again. ‘True. But unlike you, I get what I want.’
As Evers waved a hand dismissively, Davie added, ‘Perhaps. You’d have to be alive to get it, though. Bullies who try to abuse innocent women often suffer unforeseen...accidents. Goodnight, Evers.’
After the insult of neglecting to accord him his title, Davie turned on his heel and walked away. Having confirmed all that Faith had confessed and more, it was time to initiate the second part of the plan.
Unfortunately for the fury and contempt raging through him, he would have to play a much less active part in that.
* * *
Forewarned by the proprietor, the men Davie had hired were stationed by the door as a drunken Lord Randall was helped down the back stairs of the gaming hell some time later. From the place in the shadows where he stood beside his horse, Davie gave the nod, and the driver of the waiting carriage pulled his vehicle up to the bottom of the stairs.
‘’Ere’s your hackney, governor,’ one of the men said.
‘Get you back to your lodgings all right and tight,’ the other said, grabbing Lord Randall’s shoulders and heaving him up the step.
‘D-don’ need lozzings,’ Randall slurred. ‘Hav’a house. Berkeley Square.’
‘In good time, governor. In good time.’ After pushing Evers into the cab and closing the door behind him, the two men hopped up on the box beside the driver and gave Davie a wave.
The carriage set off, Davie mounted quickly, and quietly followed.
After a winding journey from the dubious streets behind Covent Garden to a nicer part of town, the carriage entered through the gates of Hyde Park, continuing through the deserted gardens until it reached a place near the verge of the Serpentine. There, the vehicle halted.
While Davie dismounted and took up his position a short distance from the vehicle, the two men climbed down from the box and opened the carriage door.
‘Wakee, wakee, my lord,’ one said. ‘Time for your walk.’
‘Wa—walk?’ Evers’s drowsy voice repeated.
‘Yes, walk. Preacher says, contemplation’s good for the soul.’ With that, the man reached inside and yanked Lord Randall from the coach.
The full moon illumined them as Randall stumbled out, the second man caught him neatly and held him upright while the first pulled a sack over his head and down his body, securing it with a quick knot of rope about his upper thighs.
‘Wha
—what are you doing?’ Evers cried. Shock and the cool air apparently dissipating some of the drunken haze, he flailed his imprisoned arms inside the sacking restraining his upper body.
As Davie watched, the two men half-pushed, half-dragged the protesting Randall over to the Serpentine, threw him in, and waded in after him.
After a moment, Evers found his feet and surfaced, gasping. ‘Whatever do you—?’
Each man taking an arm, they knocked his feet out from under him and tossed Randall into the water again.
Breathing even more raggedly, he emerged a second time. A note of panic in his voice, he cried, ‘What do you want? I can pay—’
The two seized him and submerged him a third time—and a fourth, and a fifth.
When they finally allowed him to remain on his feet, Randall sobbed, ‘P-pay you! Wh—whatever you want! J-just let me go!’
At Davie’s signal, the two grabbed Randall again, dragged him back up the bank, and tossed him to the ground.
‘Wh—why are you doing this?’ he cried. ‘I haven’t done anything! You must have the wrong man!’
‘Don’t reckon we do,’ the leader said. ‘Heard a lot about you. Lordling’s son and brother. Living off his mama in a smart house in Berkeley Square. Got the right of it, don’t I?’
‘But what—?’
‘Threatening his sister-in-law. His poor, widowed sister-in-law. Just ain’t right. A man don’t do such.’
‘He sent you!’ Randall cried. ‘That pox-ridden politic—’
The second man struck Randall on the jaw before he could finish, knocking him to his knees.
While he scrabbled to regain his balance, the leader said, ‘Don’t need no names. And nobody sent me. Heard a mate repining over a mug of ale, ya see? ’Bout a fine lady being threatened by a greasy muckworm—that would be you—and how angry he was, not being able to grind the muckworm under his boot like he wanted, on account of the muckworm maybe making more trouble for the lady. Now this mate, he’s done me some powerful good turns over the years. So when I heard him so agitated ’n’ all, I thought to meself, why not do him a favour back, and take care of this for him?’
Stolen Encounters with the Duchess Page 15