Amanda Scott (29 page)

“Well, I say we tell him that we know,” Nigel said flatly.

“Are you willing to risk your life to that end?”

Nigel slumped back in his chair. “Would you believe I forgot about that? But look here, do you believe there is anything to it? There can’t be any witnesses, I tell you, who would tell the tale he wants them to tell.”

“What I think,” Manningford told him, “is that all Jarvis has been interested in from the first is that wager, so we want to get our hands on that book. Nell writes that she can keep him at her side all evening, so we’ll chance waiting until there won’t be anyone at supper, for that’s the one time you can count on any club being a bit lively. Since we’ll have the new secretary to deal with, if not Jarvis himself, the fewer members we encounter, awake or asleep, the better. We’ll do better with three of us, too, and Sep will be back by then.”

A footman entered just then to inform him that two persons were below, inquiring for Mr. Lasenby.

“What sort of persons?”

“Bailiffs, sir, if I know the look o’ such.”

“Well, he won’t want to see them,” Manningford said with a grin. “Deny any knowledge of his whereabouts.”

“I do not know where Mr. Lasenby may be found, sir.”

“That’s the dandy. Tell them just like that.”

The footman left, and Nigel said with a chuckle, “They’ll catch up with him, you know. Bound to. Always caught up with me. Have to mend my ways now that I’m a lord, or—I say,” he exclaimed, “they can’t pen up a peer, can they?”

“You’ll mend your ways, in any case,” Manningford told him. “I mean to marry your sister.”

Nigel raised his brows. “Do you? And does she know this?”

“I think she does; however, I shall make certain of it before we’re any of us much older—in fact, just as soon as we’ve put this cousin of yours out of the way of making more mischief.”

Mr. Lasenby came in twenty minutes later, a newspaper tucked under his arm and a stunned expression on his face.

Manningford demanded, “Where the devil have you been? The tipstaffs are nipping at your heels, my lad. Had a pair of them here not an hour ago, but they’re gone now, so you can sit down and have some wine while we tell you what we’re going to do.”

“I’ll take the wine,” Mr. Lasenby said, but he made no move toward the Madeira. “I’m in shock, Bran, true as I stand here. Look at this, will you?” He held out the newspaper. “
Gazette
. Look here.” He pointed. “Miss Wembly to marry the Earl of Cardhall. Can you beat that?”

“Good God, Sep, I’m sorry. We must get you out of the country, that’s all. Just as soon as we get Bradbourne’s affair settled, he can help you do the trick.”

“Certainly,” Nigel said. “Expert, that’s what I am.”

“Oh, but that won’t be necessary,” Mr. Lasenby said, reaching into his waistcoat and withdrawing a roll of bills. He peeled off several of these and held them out. “Here’s the monkey you lent me, Bran. Can’t remember the full amount I owe you though. You’ll have to tote it up and tell me.”

Manningford stared at the money. “Where the devil—”

“Races,” Mr. Lasenby said. “Knew instantly—highest race course, High Flier—couldn’t miss, could he? Decided days ago. But thirty to one!” He sighed appreciatively. “And now Miss Wembly to wed Cardhall. Astonishing how everything can come right once Fate takes a hand in one’s affairs, ain’t it?”

“You put that whole monkey on the Regent’s sorry nag? By God, Sep, I ought to thrash some sense into you. I never heard of such a thing!”

“Don’t suppose you have,” Mr. Lasenby agreed. “Vision, that’s what it was, sure as check. I’ll have that wine now. Daresay after that, I’ll put up my feet and count my money.”

The other two gentlemen quickly disabused him of that notion by explaining that that very night they meant, one way or another, to discover the truth about the wager and Nigel’s duel.

After hearing all they had to say, Mr. Lasenby nodded and said, “Well, I daresay you’ll need me along to see it all comes right. Angel on my shoulder today, dashed if there ain’t!”

Shaking their heads at him, the other two bore him off to the dining room to fortify themselves for the ordeal ahead, and it was dark by the time they left the house. They encountered their first obstacle, however, when Manningford’s phaeton was brought around from the stable with Max perched on the seat next to the groom. The dog flatly refused to comprehend that his master desired him to remain behind.

“Daresay we’d better walk, after all,” Mr. Lasenby said.

“Not on your life,” Manningford retorted. “You, for one, won’t want to be walking about where those bailiffs can see you, for it won’t matter to them that you can pay your debts. They’ve got orders to collect you, and that’s all they’ll care about.”

“Doubt they know my face, but if they do, can see me just as well in your phaeton. Sooner with that hound up between us.”

“No, they won’t, and we’ll need the phaeton to go ’round to the inns afterward to find Jarvis and confront him with whatever we discover at the club. Nell didn’t say where he is putting up, but I daresay it will be the York House or the Swan. You won’t want to be walking from Kingsmeade Square all that distance and back to the crescent, and if you think we shall find chairs for three of us anywhere near Avon Street, you’re wrong.”

“Don’t suppose we shall. But, dash it, we don’t want the dog. Here, groom, take him.”

“Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but he’s got no lead, and he don’t want ter come.”

“Never mind,” Manningford said. “He’ll stay under the seat, and if I tell him to stay in the phaeton when we go in, he will.”

Nigel looked on in amusement, offering no comment, but Mr. Lasenby protested. “Dash it, Bran, he’ll create a ruckus in the street, is what he’ll do.”

“No, he won’t, Sep. You must not have noticed, but he hasn’t done so for some time now. He’ll behave, won’t you, boy? Smartest hunting dog in all England, remember, Sep?”

But Mr. Lasenby only shook his head. Max was agreeable, however, to curling up under their feet, and the three gentlemen made themselves as comfortable as they might on a seat built to accommodate two persons. When they reached Kingsmeade Square, Manningford looked about unsuccessfully for a linkboy to hold the horses, but there didn’t seem to be one about.

Chuckling, Nigel said, “Perhaps it’s as well you brought the damned dog. He’ll at least deter would-be thieves. Or should one of us stay with the rig?”

“No,” Manningford decided. “Best if we all go in. This pair will stand readily enough if I tie a line to the area railing. Impedes the flagway somewhat, but we’ll not heed that. There are times, though, when one wishes this city were more accommodating to carriages.”

The porter, opening the door to them, recognized Manningford and Mr. Lasenby if not Nigel, and let them in without comment, although he did look askance at the phaeton. “Like me to send a lad to take that rig round to the stables, sir?”

“No, I don’t,” Manningford said. “We’ll not be long.”

The porter nodded and moved back to his chair, and the three went up the broad stair at the far end of the entrance hall to the floor above, where Manningford knew an office was located. They passed the supper room, closed now, and moved on past a card room where four elderly gentlemen sat over a game of whist. A short distance farther, they came upon a door that was shut.

“This is it,” Manningford said. He tapped on the door, and a voice from within bade them enter.

When he opened the door, they found themselves confronting the club secretary, a heavyset, well-dressed man, who sat behind a large desk in the spacious office. “Name’s Wolsey,” he said, getting to his feet, “How can I help you, gentlemen?”

They stepped inside and let the door swing to behind them before another voice was heard. “An excellent question, Wolsey,” Jarvis Bradbourne said, stepping out from behind the door and smiling as the three turned sharply to face him. “Good God,” he added, the smile vanishing, “is that you, Nigel? How very foolish, dear boy!” He gestured meaningfully with the pistol he held. “Put your hands in the air, all of you.”

Nigel glared at him. “I’m very glad to see you, Jarvis.”

“Are you? And here I thought your sister was to have kept me away from here tonight. Unfortunately, she reckoned without the extreme curiosity of the lower classes to gawk at their betters. Not a single ticket to be had, nor a box. Indeed, she ought not to have suggested the latter, for it was bound to arouse my suspicions, you know. And if it had not, her spirited attempt to keep me at her side must have done so. She insisted that I accompany them all the way to the theater, but that is only a few blocks from here, so I did not mind in the least. Now, please do as I ask and put up your hands, all of you. I should very much dislike having to shoot anyone.”

“It would do you no good,” Nigel said. “Your game is up, for you cannot possibly think I would sign over Highgate to you now, and no court in the land will honor a wager set down in this club’s betting book once it’s known that some if not all of the contents have been falsified.”

“Do you know,” Jarvis said, “I doubt his highness would willingly present himself in a chancery court to testify on your behalf, but it really does not signify, for I believe I hold all the cards at the moment, and you will do just as I ask.”

“I won’t,” Nigel said, “and you can hardly think that shooting me will change that.”

“Ah,” Jarvis replied, “but will you be so sanguine about my shooting, say, first Lasenby and then Manningford? I think not.”

Mr. Lasenby said indignantly, “Well, I should think not, as well. What a thing to suggest! You must be mad, man.”

“If I am,” Jarvis said, shifting the pistol in his direction, “it will make no difference to you.”

N
ELL, HAVING FAILED IN
her determination to keep Jarvis at her side, found it impossible to fix her attention on the play, and so, before the first act was over, she and Lady Flavia hired a pair of chairs and left the theater. There was a brief discussion about the route they would take back to Laura Place, Lady Flavia pointing out that to go by way of Beauford Square and the Borough Wall, though a hilly route not beloved of chairmen, was perhaps safer than Monmouth Street which passed through the northeast corner of Kingsmeade Square at the top of Avon Street.

“Now, ma’am,” Nell said. “You know ’tis the route you usually take. You are perhaps afraid of what we might find in Kingsmeade Square, but ’tis early yet, and I promise you, I mean only to see if there is anything to be seen, nothing more.”

She was sincere in making her promise, but when they reached that part of the square opposite the Bees-Waxers’ to see, tied to the area railing across the way, a phaeton with a large familiar-looking hound perched on the driver’s seat, looking for all the world as though it meant to gather up the reins and drive away, Nell called to the bearers to set down their chairs.

“Aunt Flavia,” she said as soon as this had been done and the men dismissed, “that is Max. They are still here, and I cannot help but feel that Jarvis must be here too, which cannot be a good thing for Nigel or anyone else. We must do something.”

“But what can we do, my dear?” she demanded, casting a suspicious glance at a pair of loafers leaning against an area rail across the square. “Ladies do not enter gentlemen’s clubs.”

“I shall not let such a trifle as that dissuade me,” Nell said resolutely. “Only think how we should feel if anyone were hurt merely because we refused to conquer some silly scruple!”

“But, really, Nell—”

“Will you abandon me, ma’am?”

“No, certainly not, but how shall we gain entrance? I daresay there is a porter, you know, and if he bars the door to us, that will be that. We could not threaten him at the point of a gun, after all.”

“Not even if we had my pistol,” Nell agreed, smiling at her.

“Well, we do have it,” Lady Flavia said, hefting her reticule. “I took the precaution of bringing it because of Maria Prudham’s having had that most distressing experience.”

“My pistol?”

“Well, yes. Botten knew where you kept it, you see. I should have mentioned it to you, perhaps, but I did not want you to fret. I have borrowed it once or twice before when I have gone out to pay calls. So sensible, I thought. Such a comfort, knowing it is there in one’s reticule.”

“But, ma’am, you do not even know how to fire it!”

Lady Flavia shrugged. “One points and pulls the trigger, does one not? I confess, I did not know if you had loaded it.”

“I did,” Nell said with a chuckle. “You are the most complete hand, ma’am. You must keep it, too. My bag is too small to conceal it. I suppose I ought to have wondered why you were carrying that great cloth thing. But come, we must try what we can do to gain entrance to that place, and without, I think, flourishing the pistol. We will make enough stir as it is.”

Mounting the steps, she pulled the bell, and when the door was opened, she said with an agitated manner, “Sorry to trouble you, but I must find my brother, and I believe he is within.”

“No females,” the porter said staunchly. “What is his name, madam? I’ll send someone to fetch him out to you.”

“No, no, that will not do! I cannot be standing here upon your step. It is not at all the thing, my good man. This area is not safe. Only look at those two ruffians across the way! You cannot leave two ladies standing here like this.”

“Ladies oughtn’t to come here at all,” he said, looking where she pointed. “Them men be harmless. Came and wanted to look over the place, they did, but we don’t allow just anyone in, you know. Didn’t know ’em at all, and the fellow they be asking about ain’t a member here. Still and all, been a-standing there this past twenty minutes and more, they have, just a-watching.”

“Well, you cannot leave us standing out here.”

He showed no sign of giving way, however, and the argument might have lasted a good deal longer, had another party not been heard from. But Max, recognizing a familiar voice, accepted it as an invitation to leap down from the phaeton and, baying in delight, came bounding up the steps to greet Nell.

“Oh, Max! Down sir!” she cried as the dog tried to jump up to lick her face.