A Masquerade in the Moonlight (34 page)

“Only long enough for her to send me away with a flea in my ear,” Thomas lied smoothly. This might, he decided, be a good time to allay some of his lordship’s concerns about any involvement with Marguerite, especially after Harewood’s remarks. The poor love had enough problems. So did he, damn it, now that he thought about it. “I’m top over ears in love with the girl, your lordship, but she will have none of me. I think she much prefers more mature gentlemen, such as yourself. Well, I do hate to run off, us all being so cozy here and all, but I have already planned to meet with my friend Mr. Dooley at the bottom of the street in less than a quarter hour. There’s a most lovely tavern there—you should try it. Good day to you, gentlemen.”

As he walked off, Thomas felt three pairs of eyes boring into his back. He was so angry, it took all his resolve not to turn around and demand they tell him why Marguerite was out to harvest their livers and lights. But he controlled the urge. He’d simply have to content himself on the sidelines for a little while longer, watching as Marguerite went about her business, protecting her quietly and only stepping in if she seemed to be getting in over her head.

And, in that meantime, he knew he’d die a little each day he spent without her.

“We have to be rid of Arthur, I tell you,” Sir Ralph said watching as the Earl of Laleham twirled his wineglass by its stem, staring into the dark liquid as it glowed in the lamplight. They had left Lord Mappleton, who was off to drool all over the rich Miss Rollins yet again, and retired to White’s. “He is becoming a liability. Every time the man opens his mouth he nearly betrays us.”

“Impossible, my dear fellow. There is no time to recruit another willing conspirator and use Stinky to have him inserted into the Treasury. But I do agree we’re in danger. Five men are too many for this operation. Especially when one of them is disloyal and only out for himself.”

Sir Ralph felt his stomach turn over, nearly causing him to lose his lunch of sweet ham and buttered biscuits. “Disloyal?”

“Yes,” the earl went on, still gazing into his wineglass, “Perry is putting his own desires above those of the group.”

“Perry?” Sir Ralph nearly sank to his knees, so complete was his relief. “How?”

“Why, by believing his own high opinion of himself transfers to real intelligence. Lord, to think I once rated him as our equal. Stinky and Arthur have never been more than willing dupes since our school days—well born, respected, and convenient to our plans—but I had held out higher hopes for Perry. But to get back to what I was saying—I have an acquaintance at one of the newspapers, and he forwarded to me a story that will be printed in tomorrow’s edition. It’s most interesting!”

“How so?” Harewood was beginning to enjoy himself. He’d always known of William’s low opinion of the others, and was more than willing to believe they would be disposed of the moment their usefulness in this latest, greatest of their schemes was done. Even better, if William was taken up with Perry’s suspected treachery, he’d have no time to look into his affairs with Maxwell or his secret meetings with Thomas Donovan. No time to wonder about
his
ambitions.

“The pompous idiot believes he’s discovered a description of buried Roman treasure. Worse, he enlisted Stinky into his plans, prevailing upon him to convince our ridiculous Prince of Wales to allow Perry to dig up the grounds to the south of the Chapel of St. Peter ad Vincula.”

Sir Ralph laughed out loud. “Inside the walls of the Tower? Is the man insane?”

“Quite possibly, Ralph. But to push the boundaries of credulity—what if the fool is right for the first time in his life? What then, Ralph? Will he decide, now that fame and respect are at long last his, he no longer has need of our scheme? Even worse—will he conclude he would be appreciated much more by the prince than he ever would be by us when we came into power? Consider it, Ralph—can we afford such a single-sighted, puffed-up co-conspirator?”

Harewood rubbed his chin, thinking furiously. “He has already done everything except to actually order the transfer of goods from the War Ministry. Once I—that is, once we’ve reached an agreement with Donovan, Perry will be superfluous. But, William, we always knew that. Neither of us has actually said it, but they are none of them necessary once the plan is well launched.”

“How true. But I, unlike you, had been prepared to be generous. Now, with Perry striking out on his own, I’ve rethought the matter. He knows too much about our plans and about our past. You do remember our past, don’t you, Ralph?”

“About Geoffrey Balfour, you mean. That’s what you’re talking about, isn’t it, William?” Harewood didn’t need to be reminded of Geoffrey Balfour. He saw his face each night before he fell asleep. Saw the terror. Felt the fear. “Arthur is equally as dangerous in that regard, William,” he pointed out reasonably. “Maybe more so, especially now that he’s thinking of marriage to a rich woman.”

William set down his glass and prepared to rise. “So very bloodthirsty. Very well, Ralph, if you insist. I had only thought of Perry, and then, not quite seriously. But you have my permission to kill them both—dispose of them all. But not until we are finished with Donovan.”

“
Me?
” Harewood breathed, unable to raise his voice above a whisper. How had it all come down to him, and not William? How had the man maneuvered him into being the one who put forth the mention of murder? How could he refuse now—now that he’d been the one who said they should all die? He fell back against his chair, watching in dumbfounded silence as the Earl of Laleham quit the room.
Curse the man!
The bastard had outsmarted him again!

Dusk had begun to descend before Sir Ralph, after an afternoon spent in deep thought, reached Lord Chorley’s mansion in Grosvenor Square. Three rather angry men were sitting on the front steps.

He brushed past them and banged the knocker, nearly losing his hat as the door opened and Lord Chorley grabbed his arm, pulling him inside.

“Stinky! What in blazes is going on? Where are your servants? Who are those men outside?”

Lord Chorley, his graying hair rumpled, his waistcoat hanging open over his ample stomach, motioned for Sir Ralph to follow him into the drawing room. “Gone, Ralph. The servants are all gone. They left this afternoon, when the first of those black crows showed up outside. And good riddance to them, I say—I owed them all at least a quarter’s wages.”

Harewood began to understand. This was going to be even easier than he had thought! “Those men outside, Stinky. They’re duns, aren’t they? Your creditors are after you.”

Lord Chorley’s features screwed up and he began to cry. “The first arrived this morning after I’d already gone out, or so he told me when I met him in the hallway a while ago, carrying off m’candlesticks. The man I’ve been gambling with the past few weeks sold my vowels to some moneylender or somebody like that I suppose, and the new owner demands payment immediately.”

“That is awkward,” Sir Ralph said commiserating.

“Awkward! It’s damn insensitive, that’s what it is. Once the first appeared the rest of the vultures took up the scent in a heartbeat. I didn’t know grocers and chandlers really hired duns—you’d think they’d know a gentleman pays gaming debts first and tradesmen last. There’s one of the duns in the kitchens, Ralph, gathering up the pots, and another in the dining room. He refuses to leave, even after I offered him that silver epergne m’mother left me. Ugly thing, but it has got to be worth something. If I open the door more than a crack, the place will be crawling with the leeches taking up residence here—and I barely have food enough for myself. The servants took most of it. I sent a note round to Prinny, but he refused to answer.”

He collapsed into a chair and buried his head in his hands. “Ralph—what am I going to do? I can’t tell William. He already warned me this would happen—just today. Blast the man—it’s as if he had wished this on me!”

Sir Ralph smiled. His face felt strange as the skin stretched over his lean cheekbones, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. He had come here to convince Lord Chorley that William was dangerous, believing he needed an ally and knowing the weak Arthur was no use to him and Perry was too dangerous. Lord Chorley, who was always in need of money, had been his last, best hope. Now it was beginning to seem as if it was also the surest bet he, a man who never gambled, could ever make.

“Most of my money is tied up at the moment,” he lied after a few moments, long seconds when only Lord Chorley’s pathetic, heartbroken sobs filled the silence. He had to make the man believe it would be a sacrifice to help him. “However, I believe I could find my way clear to advance you some funds. How much do you owe? In total, Stinky.”

Lord Chorley raised his hands, then dropped them into his lap. “I don’t know. Twenty thousand pounds?”

Sir Ralph nearly laughed, but that degree of response was beyond him. This was proving to be almost too easy. Conveniently forgetting he himself had already planned to cut Lord Chorley out, and the rest of the group as well, Harewood concentrated on Laleham’s heartless treachery.
Try to trick me into murdering three of my oldest and dearest friends, would you? Oh, no, William. You’ve gone too far this time! For this time it will be Sir Ralph Harewood who calls the tune!

“Your estates, Stinky? Are they mortgaged?”

Lord Chorley nodded. “All of them. Three times over.” He raised his head and looked pleadingly at Sir Ralph. “Can you help me? You have plenty, and never spend a penny that I can see. Help me, Ralph. Just until William’s plans come together. Then we’ll all be rich.”

“Oh, yes, we will, if William is as generous in victory as he says he will be. Only consider this—we’re doing all the work, and he stands to reap the most benefit. Why, if it weren’t for that nasty business all those years ago—which was also Willie’s idea, remember—none of us would have thrown in our lots with him. Oh, yes, the bubbles worked, most of the time. But do you remember Amiens? Pitt? That fell through, and badly. Poor Geoffrey!”

Harewood did laugh softly then, amazed he could say Balfour’s name without flinching—now that he had Maxwell! “That’s when we disbanded,” he continued swiftly, soberly, “until this latest scheme, of course. This project could fail as well, and then where will we be? Where will
you
be, Stinky?”

“
Oh, God.
I’ll be locked up in the Fleet, lowering a basket out the window to the crowds below, angling for farthings like some common debtor!”

“Precisely.” Sir Ralph went to Lord Chorley and knelt down beside him. “But that’s why I’m here, Stinky. I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. A long, long time. That fool Donovan trusts me. He doesn’t even know William is a part of it. I believe I can work directly with the American, completely bypassing William. That way you and I can be better assured of success. William has already failed us once, then made murderers of us all, crippling us with our remembered guilt. We must face it, Stinky, the man has no soul. You do trust me, don’t you? Leave Arthur and Perry to their own devices. We have to look out for ourselves. You and I have always been close, haven’t we?”

“We did room together at school,” Lord Chorley said, wiping his eyes. “I thought you had forgotten. How much, Ralph? How much can you lend me until you get the American to agree to the plan?”

“Five thousand now, to rid you of the tradesmen,” Sir Ralph promised carefully, “and twenty more next week. That should keep you out of the Fleet. But in return, I need your loyalty.”

“Anything, Ralph,” Lord Chorley promised, hugging Harewood. “Anything at all, I swear it!”

“Good,” Sir Ralph responded, smiling yet again. He was beginning to enjoy smiling. This blubbering fool would be the last man William would suspect, the last one he’d fear. When the time came, he didn’t want to have to worry about William’s suspicions. It wouldn’t pay to be immortal, if he had to spend eternity in the Tower dungeons while William sat upon the throne. “Um—you do own a pistol, don’t you, Stinky?”