A Perfect Gentleman (16 page)

Lud, the chub was energetic, conscientious, and half in love with the woman! That was why he did not suspect Stony of low behavior: He could not suspect his inamorata of such licentiousness. “I take it that, in order to describe her missing sister, Miss Kane removed her bonnet?”

“Oh, yes.” The Runner turned dreamy-eyed and forgot all about his copious notes, his illustrious guest, or the missing sister. Visions of long red hair cascading across snowy white sheets must be chasing all rational thoughts from the man's head. No, those were Stony's mind-pictures. Lattimer was likely picturing Miss Kane in a wedding gown, the righteous clunch.

“Did she take her hair down?” Stony had to ask.

“Of course not. No lady would be so immodest,” the Runner said, confirming Stony's estimation of his infatuation and his intentions. And incidentally relieving Stony's unexpected and unwarranted jealousy that another man had seen Miss Kane in such a state. Zeus, he could not be jealous! Not over the banker's broomstick daughter. He must be suffering from brain fever, or else he'd risen from his bed too early.

Jealous or not, Stony was responsible for the woman. Now it was his turn to sigh. Lattimer was only the first of many, he supposed. “I daresay she can look as high as she wishes,” he hinted.

The tips of Lattimer's jug-handle ears turned red. “Oh, I know the lady is far above my touch. Which is not to say any swell with a title before his name is free to take advantage of her sweetness.” He glanced toward the black baton on his desk, in a not quite subtle warning.

Brain fever must be catching. Sweetness? Were they speaking of the same woman? “Do not worry. The lady is safe with me.”

And from me, Stony added, but only to himself.

Lord Charles Hammett, the recently and not very reluctantly betrothed friend of Stony's, was his next call. Charlie was one of the few gentlemen Stony felt he could question about the missing girl without his interest leading to more questions. Certainly Charlie was too involved in his wedding plans and his bride-to-be to care about any other woman.

He did not remember any stunning redheads, any available heiresses, or Lady Augusta Chansford's niece. He barely remembered to thank Stony for the engagement gift, what with hurrying to meet his betrothed at the jeweler's, his father-in-law-to-be at White's, and his solicitor at the bank. That was all right with the viscount. He was glad his friend was prospering so much better as a prospective son-in-law to an earl than he ever was as a younger son to a duke. Charlie thought he might even enter politics, with the earl's help. That would be after the wedding, of course, and after the yearlong bridal trip he and Lady Valentina were planning, with the earl's money.

Stony went along with Charlie to the jeweler's to inspect betrothal rings. Floating between velvet cases filled with gems of every size, shape, and color, Charlie's fiancée thought she did remember seeing a Miss Kane once, but was never formally introduced. The woman was certainly not on the wedding invitation list. It might have been at an afternoon tea, Lady Val guessed. No gentlemen were present that she could recall, and did he prefer the square shape to the oval?

Which left Strickland, who had definitely left his own residence. The baron had no country estate—not since losing it twenty-some years ago—so he could be anywhere. Stony tried the gentlemen's clubs, especially those with spare rooms a member could use in a temporary emergency. The doormen had seen
Strickland, so he was still in town, but no one could say where he was staying, not even for the coins Stony offered.

“I'm looking for the rum touch myself,” one of the older members said, after Stony loosened his tongue with a glass of cognac. “What, does the bounder owe you money, too?”

Stony filed away the information that Strickland seemed to be in debt. A desperate man took desperate measures. “I merely need to speak with him on a minor matter. His house is shut up, vermin-infested, most likely. Do you know what hotel he patronizes?”

“A hotel? You'd do better to try the whorehouses!”

The hundred pounds, or what was left of it after Stony redeemed his watch and paid his outstanding bills, would not last long, not the way Stony had to slip coins into doorkeepers' hands to identify their patrons. Keeping the privacy of those within was precisely why such men were stationed there.

Stony went from perfumed bordello to gin-soaked brothel, from exclusive private club to half-hour harlotries. He had more convivial glasses of wine than he wanted, and slipped more coins down more bodices than he ever wished to explore, all for nothing. He had offers and invitations, a gratifying number of them for free, but no information. Of course, London had almost as many houses of prostitution as it had cobblestones, so he was not discouraged. Strickland would show up somewhere, perhaps at a mistress's cottage in Kensington. Someone would know. Stony left coins and his address with half the prostitutes in London, it seemed. They needed it far more than he did, or Miss Kane.

Meantime, he had to report to his employer. With his head aching from the wine, his mouth tasting the way the bulldog smelled, he called at Sloane Street. There was Miss Kane, every hair in place and covered with that black lace winding sheet. She sat as erect as a ramrod, and looked as eager to see him as she would the tooth drawer. The parrot was squawking his name, or something about stones, from the next room. He had no good tidings to give, no news of her sister or Strickland, no way to erase the frown or the shadows under her eyes. Worse, he had no intention of telling her where he'd been. Worst of all, he had no money.

Damn, he was used to having the expense of escorting a lady financed by her guardians, without a word spoken. He paid for flowers and carriage rides and tips to footmen—not fortunes in bribes. How could he tell this starched-up shrew sitting in morning sunshine that he'd given her blunt to women of the night? Hell, how could he ask a female, any female, but especially this distant, disapproving one, for money?

So he gave his report, lying through his teeth, and spoke to Timms instead.

Chapter Twelve

“Damn it to hell, Gwen, I had to ask for money!” Stony was in such a rage, he forgot to mind his language; then he forgot to apologize for the lapse.

Gwen was busy trimming an old bonnet with some new ribbons she had purchased while out shopping. Dear Aubrey could not complain of the expense of the ribbons, for look how much money she was saving over the purchase of a new hat. His curse words could not be for her, therefore, and were nothing she had not heard from his father, especially when money was mentioned. She looked up at her stepson over the rim of her detested spectacles, which she was wearing only because manufacturers were making the eyes of the needles so much smaller these days. Her beloved stepson was not an attractive sight, not with his neckcloth pulled awry, his fair hair standing on end as if he'd been tearing at it with his hands, and his handsome face wearing a black scowl. She set her gaze back on the old bonnet that would be as fetching as any in the shops when she was finished.

“Yes, dear.”

“Like a blasted delivery boy!”

“You know, Aubrey, most people who work for a living do expect to be paid.” Lady Wellstone's eyes had been opened just that day to the plight of shopkeepers whose bills were in arrears. And here she'd thought only impoverished gentry had to worry about making ends meet.

“It was demeaning, that's what it was.”

“Of course. But did you get the funds you need?” Pride was well and good, but cash in the bank was a great deal more comforting.

“An account was already established that I can draw on as necessary. You'd think the dratted woman could have told me, besides, without my having to beg, and from a prayer-book butler old enough to be my grandfather, by Jupiter. Next she'll be having me ask the dog if I can take a hackney, or do I have to walk.”

Gwen set another stitch. “I am sure the dear woman would never expect you to walk her dog.”

Now Stony was as exasperated with his inattentive relation as he was with his imperious employer. He kicked at a footstool that was in the way of his pacing. “I suppose I shall have to show vouchers to justify my expenses. As if abesses and back-alley bruisers handed out receipts!”

“You mean you won't be able to be so generous to those people.” Gwen had never understood how dear Aubrey could give alms to the poor when they themselves were needy.

Stony ignored her and how well she knew him. Besides, he had a bone to pick with Gwen, too. “I thought you were going to take Miss Kane in hand and make her presentable. She still looked like a scarecrow this morning. The problem is, no one will be frightened; they'll only laugh.”

“She has gowns on order. I guarantee no one will be laughing at our dinner party at the end of the week. If she comes.”

“What do you mean, if she comes? The whole effort is to bring her to the attention of society.”

“Yes, but she is shy.”

“Shy? I have never met a woman more outspoken, more sure of herself, more determined to have her own way. Shy? A wild boar is shyer! Miss Ellianne Kane is a shrew!”

“Well, I like her. You told me I should, and I did. I found dear Ellianne excellent company and not at all overbearing.”

“Dear Ellianne, is it? Then you have seen dear Ellianne the chameleon, not Miss Kane the queen. You would not have enjoyed her company this morning, I swear, not while she was scowling and stiff as a plank. She did not offer me her hand, nor a seat, nor a drop to drink, even though my mouth was as dry as day-old toast. I had to stand in front of her blasted desk like a failing student before the headmaster. No, like a debtor at the bank. I felt as if I were going to a foreclosure, not a friendly chat. She heard my report and then dismissed me, like a deuced servant.”

“Oh, dear, she must still have been upset by something Lady Higgentham said yesterday. I know I should not have introduced that awful woman at the milliner's, but how could I not when she was right there, staring at dear Ellianne? And she was trying on an absolutely horrid bonnet, besides.”

Stony raised his eyebrow. “And you were going to tell me that Miss Kane had been insulted…when?”

“When I first saw you, which is now. If you had not stayed out all night…”

“On Miss Kane's business. What did Lady Higgentham say that offended Miss Kane?” Stony might call the woman names; he'd be damned if he sat by and let others ridicule her.

“It was not precisely an insult, dear, more a friendly warning, although I doubt that crosspatch meant to be friendly. Mean people are rarely kind, and Lady Higgentham has those beady little eyes, which would lead me—”

“Gwen, what did she say to Miss Kane?”

“Oh. You do remember her daughter, do you not? The one we could not find a husband for, no matter how we tried?”

“The girl preferred her horses. And looked like them.”

“But Lady Higgentham believes you ruined the girl's chances.”

“How? I took her riding in the park, trying to show off the chit's only skill. And we went early, with her groom in attendance, so the conventions were observed. She wished to race, and I agreed, thinking to impress the chaps who were out exercising their mounts. The hoyden not only started early and bumped my horse, but she beat me to the finish by three lengths.”

“And no gentleman likes a cheat.”

“No gentleman likes a woman who can ride better than he can.”

Gwen shook her head over men's foibles but said, “No, the horse race was not what had Lady Higgentham riled. She said you turned the girl's head with all your attention and spoiled her for any other man.”

“What? I took her to Astley's to watch the trick riding because her father and brother flatly refused to go again after the fourth time. They begged me to drive with her in the park because they hated to be seen with a female at the ribbons. And I swear the only time that female turned her head was to look at a passing pair of matched chestnuts!”

“You just cannot help being charming, dear. At any rate, Lady Higgentham saw dear Ellianne at my side, and naturally assumed you might be escorting my friend on occasion. That horrid woman warned Miss Kane that you were nothing but a silver-tongued devil, out to collect as many ladies' hearts as you could, while their fathers were paying your tailors' bills. Then she said that perhaps Miss Kane would have better luck bringing you to heel with her fortune, for she recognized the name. And the bank, I suppose. I can tell you, I was so angry, I did not even warn Lady Higgentham how much she resembled a dragon in that lizard-skin hat!”

“But Miss Kane did believe her?”

“Oh, she said it made no difference, for she was not looking for a husband, and that she was long past falling for a handsome face and pretty compliments.”

“She believed her. She thinks I am a cad, which was what had her on her uppers this morning.”

“You have to understand, dear, that men have always been pursuing dear Ellianne, but always for her money, not for herself. Even when they do compliment her appearance, she does not believe them, since she believes her looks unfashionable. Red hair is considered unlucky, did you know that? And children can be cruel, so they made sport of her hair and her height and her thinness. I am afraid she fears you will do the same. Perhaps that was why she was a bit standoffish with you.”