A Perfect Gentleman (14 page)

*

Amazingly enough, the parrot was singing the same tune when they arrived at Miss Kane's residence, if the squawking could be considered a song. Unfortunately, the parrot was singing the words, not whistling. Even more unfortunately, the verse to “The Mermaid's Ball” was not fit for the ears of a gentlewoman. Stony was left to wonder once more about the bird's former owner when the maid clapped her hands over her ears and fled for the servants' stairs, and Miss Kane hurried into the front parlor.

“To put Polly in his place,” she said, slamming the parlor door behind her before Stony could follow. He stayed where he was, waiting for her return, so they might find a private place to continue their discussion. Stony had a few more queries to make, especially about the Bow Street man's investigation, so he did not repeat the other man's obviously futile search into coaching inns, et cetera.

Timms was not on duty in the entry hall, but Stony was not concerned at missing a conversation with the old man. Miss Kane had given him ample information to consider, answering a lot of the questions Stony would have put to the butler. If Timms was as forgetful as Miss Kane said, he'd be of no help anyway.

Except for fetching another bottle of that excellent Madeira.

Ah, there he came. But no, the wheezing breaths might have been Timms's, but that scrabbling sound was not the butler's slow footstep. It was claws on marble tile, tearing down the long hall, sliding on loose carpet runners, careening off walls and side tables, straight for Stony. “No, Atlas. No. Good dog, sit.”

Atlas did not sit. He kept coming, barreling down the hall like an asthmatic ale keg on legs. Stony could not afford a new pair of boots, or gloves for that matter. He looked around, frantic to find something to— Aha! The huge bouquet of exotic blooms in the Chinese urn. He snatched out a huge red flower to throw.

“Silk? The flowers are made out of blasted silk? No, Atlas. Friends, boy. We are friends.”

Atlas must have had a memory problem too. He did not seem to recall the viscount. He was steps away from Stony's boots, about to launch himself for an attack. Could he reach a man's throat? Could a toothless bulldog do any damage to a strong, fit man? Stony was not waiting to find out. He dove for the front door, pulled it open, and dashed through it. Atlas was on his heels. Atlas was out. Atlas was flying through the air. Before the dog's short legs touched the ground, Stony swiveled and was back inside, the door firmly closed behind him.

He adjusted his neckcloth and was placing the red flower back in the urn when Miss Kane came back to the entry. “Did I hear someone at the door?” she asked.

“Oh, that was Atlas. He seemed to want to go out, so I opened the door for him. He does know his way back in, doesn't he?”

“Yes, and how kind of you. I am more and more convinced that you are the perfect gentleman to assist me. I do have a few more items to discuss with you first, though. Will you come with me?”

So she was once more the banker's prim and proper maiden daughter, Stony thought as he followed her down the hall. She paused occasionally to kick a rug back into alignment with her foot, and once she bent to unfold a lifted corner. She'd removed the pelisse, though, and the black bonnet, leaving her hair loose except for two tortoiseshell combs at the sides. Her gown was crafted by a master seamstress, cradling what appeared to be ample breasts for such a thin woman, and the silk skirt, when she bent over, showed a nicely curved derriere. No starchy old spinster ever looked like this, he'd swear, a grin on his face.

“This is serious business, Wellstone,” she said as they entered a well-stocked book room. She made sure the door was left partly open, for propriety's sake, then sat at a large desk, indicating that he should take the smaller, facing seat across the vast expanse.

He stayed on his feet.

“If you are worried that this is the desk that Aunt Augusta hit her head upon, you may rest easy. I had that one carted out and this one brought down from the attics in its place.”

A jerk of her head signaled him to sit.

Stony looked at the wide desk, and the position of authority Miss Kane had claimed, and strolled about the room instead, admiring the depth of the collection on the shelves. A man could spend months here, visiting with old friends. And a woman could be taught not to play games with a professional.

Miss Kane cleared her throat. She had another piece of paper in her hand, another chart.

Stony knew he'd rather read the driest book of sermons than whatever she had written there. “Yes?”

She consulted the paper in front of her and cleared her throat again, as if to make way for some unpleasantness she had to relate. “I wish to discuss the terms and conditions of your employ, so that neither of us has unfounded expectations.”

“But I agreed to help find your sister in whatever manner is required. Finding Strickland, looking into whichever young ladies might have been her confidantes.” Stony had other ideas of how to proceed, but Miss Kane did not need to know about his going to exclusive brothels, or asking around whether anyone had recently taken a new redheaded mistress into his keeping. If the girl looked like her sister…

Then again, if Isabelle had that poker up her backside like Miss Kane, he might save the effort. She had not flown the coop to fly with the birds of paradise.

“Yes,” Miss Kane was saying, “and I have every confidence you will perform your part admirably. But these”—she tapped the list with one finger—“are more intangible aspects of my requirements. For instance, I must be assured of your discretion. I would be a fool to tell people that Isabelle is visiting relatives if you contradict me at a later date. In your clubs, perhaps, or in your cups.”

“I do not drink to excess, if that is what you are tiptoeing around with your list. Nor do I gossip about my affairs. I would never be entrusted with a young woman again were I to bandy her name in smoke-filled rooms. For that matter, no lady would speak to me if I betrayed her confidences. Do you wish me to supply references, testimonies to my character? That might be difficult without divulging names, which, of course, I am sworn to keep private.”

She ignored the sarcasm, and the angry tapping of his fingers on the bookshelves. “A young woman's reputation is invaluable.”

“As is the reliability of a man's word.”

“Quite.” She checked the first item off her list. “Next is loyalty. You were known to, um, escort more than one young lady at a time. My sister is an extremely wealthy young woman. What if someone else offered you more money than I do to find her for his own reasons? Or to not find her?”

Now his booted toe joined Stony's fingers in a rapid tattoo. Was she really accusing him of turning traitor?

“I should wish to know that man's reasons. The young lady's welfare must come first.”

“But if it were a friend of yours who had an interest in my sister and her fortune?”

“I count as friend no man who would run off with a gently bred female, damaging her reputation and wounding her family.”

Ellianne's brows knitted. “I suppose that means I have your loyalty?”

“I suppose it does.”

She read off the next item on her list. “Communication. We must have open conversations.”

“Are we communicating now, Miss Kane?” Stony thought they were having an exercise in seeing how many insults she could offer him before he walked out.

“Well, yes, but I mean that if you discover any information, I wish to be advised instantly. I do not want to be protected from any unpleasantness, as gentlemen are wont to do with women. Nor do I wish you to take any actions without discussing them with me first.”

He was supposed to tell her about the bordellos? Or his plan to visit hospitals and the morgue? The docks to see what ships left, and what cargo they carried? He'd tell her, all right. When pigs flew. He replaced the volume of Aristotle's
Poetics
back among its brethren and said, “Miss Isabelle is your sister. Of course you should be kept abreast of the investigation.”

She smiled then and he almost forgave her for being a prig. Her features softened and golden flecks in her eyes danced when she smiled and said, “There, we are building an excellent understanding, are we not?”

He understood she was still a prig, who knew nothing of life and less about men. She did not know when enough was enough either. He went back to perusing the shelves, hoping the haughty hen-wit would get the hint, and let him get on with finding her sister.

“There is one other item on my list, an item of a somewhat…delicate nature.”

That got his attention.

“You see,” she began, “I know all about Lady Valentina and your friend Captain Brisbane, who is not the man she is presently engaged to wed.”

“And?”

“And I should not like to be placed in any such awkward position. An unprincipled rogue could easily take advantage of my situation, thinking to better line his pockets. I need your word as a gentleman that—”

Plato slammed back onto the shelf. “Madam, if I am a gentleman, I would not betray a female in my care. If I am not a gentleman, my word is not worth tuppence. You must decide which I am.”

She bit her lip. “I can see that I have offended you. I am not casting aspersions on your honor; I am simply trying to make it clear that I cannot be forced into marriage like Lady Valentina.” She ignored his snort of derision. “Any attempt to destroy my reputation will fail, because I do not care. I can go home, where, scandal-touched or not, I cannot be denied. I own the bank, and I run the school. The people who matter know who and what I am.”

“You mean you have paid for their loyalty also?”

“No! I have earned their—”

Stony held up his hand. “If it is assurance you want, Miss Kane, let me swear on my mother's grave that I have absolutely no desire to have you for a wife, at any price.”

“Good.” But for some reason his instant, absolute, heartfelt assertion did not feel good. Ellianne hurried on before she could think about it. “Then we are agreed. I am hiring you to help in finding my sister, because those of your social circles might have clues to her disappearance, and I require your entree and your escort to those circles. I am not employing you to shower me with false gallantry or feigned affection.”

“I assure you, my affections are not for hire.” And affection was the last thing he was feeling for her at this moment.

“And there will be no flirting, no stolen kisses.”

“I promise, if you do.”

Her cheeks turned scarlet. “What? Me? Heavens, as if I would—”

“But you think I would? Trade favors for money? By heaven, I am no kept man, Miss Kane, and I would challenge any man who dared imply otherwise.” He pounded his fist on the shelf for emphasis, and the parrot started squawking and the dog started barking. Someone must have let the cur in, and that someone would be in this room in a moment, checking to make sure another mistress was not bludgeoned in the book room.

It was a close call.

Stony sat down before he did commit mayhem, and Ellianne wiped her forehead. “Well. It appears we have only to discuss your payment.”

“Miss Kane, gentlemen do not discuss money with ladies. In fact, they seldom mention remuneration.”

“Which is why so many gentlemen end up in debt. Punting on River Tick, I believe they call it. I call it cork-brained. I am not a lady, however, even if I am accepted among your society's elite. No, I am Ellis Kane's daughter, of Kane Bank, and I would know the price of a pig before I purchase it.”

“Now you are calling me a pig?” Stony was halfway to the door. “Good day, ma'am. And good luck. You will need it.”

“Oh, botheration, Wellstone, come back. I did not mean to liken you to livestock. I just wished to ascertain what you expected to be paid, and how. By the week? By the month? You are the one doing the work, so you should be the one to make sure the payment is sufficient. Here, look at my chart. I tried to calculate a value for your time and another for your—”

Stony had stamped across to the desk. He leaned over, picked up her chart, and tore it to shreds. “If I work for you, you will pay me what my efforts are worth to you, no more, no less.”

Ellianne looked at the scraps of paper on the desk. “I wish you would stop doing that. It is very rude, you know.”

“So is treating me like an employee.”

“But…but I thought that's what you were.”

Chapter Eleven

The first order of business, when Stony and Ellianne were finished glaring at each other, was to introduce Miss Kane to Gwen, Lady Wellstone. At least that was what Stony decided had to come first. He could not take a marriageable— whether she chose to marry or not—woman out and about by himself without giving rise to a shower of gossip. The fact that Miss Kane was no young miss, but nearly on the shelf, would turn the shower into a pelter of hailstones. Hell, knowing that she was an heiress and he was an empty-coffers viscount, the ensuing deluge could drown both of them.