Dangerous (5 page)

“Was there something you wanted, Fleetwood?” Sebastian turned slowly to face Jeremy. “Aside from my title, that is? Or have you come to wish me good fortune on the morrow?”

Jeremy’s handsome face flushed. His eyes were a much darker shade than Sebastian’s, brown rather than gold. His hair was lighter in color, a deep mahogany rather than midnight black. Nevertheless, Sebastian knew the family resemblance between himself and his cousin was unmistakable. He also knew that obvious fact irritated the rest of the Fleetwoods. They would have preferred him to have resembled his fair-haired mother.

“You bastard.” Jeremy doubled a hand into a fist. “One of these days someone is going to put a bullet through your cold heart and it will serve you right.”

“Thank you.” Sebastian inclined his head politely. “Always nice to know one’s family is behind one in a time of crisis.”

“It’s true, then?” Jeremy demanded, appalled. “You’re going to subject the family reputation to another round of scandal by engaging in a duel with some country yokel?”

“You’ll be happy to learn that the rumors of a duel are false.”

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s the truth, cousin.” Sebastian smiled. “Tell your doting mama to cancel her order for mourning clothes. I imagine she has already selected something appropriate in black on the off chance that her fondest wish might come true on the morrow. Unfortunately for her, I intend to live yet another day.”

Jeremy scowled. “I heard that the brother of the Merryweather chit challenged you.”

“Did you? Amazing how gossip flows through the
ton
, isn’t it? A pity that so much of it is false.”

“Damn it, man, what are you up to this time?”

“Nothing that need concern you, Fleetwood.”

“You’re an arrogant bastard, cousin.”

“Arrogant I may be, but I am most definitely not a bastard.” Sebastian smiled again. “And that, dear cousin, makes all the difference, doesn’t it?”

Jeremy’s mouth worked, but in the end he seemed to be unable to find words. He spun around on one well-shod foot and stalked out of the room.

The buzz of conversation resumed at the card tables. Sebastian turned back to pour himself another glass of port. He stopped when he saw the thoughtful expression in Garrick’s eyes.

“Don’t worry, my friend,” Sebastian said. “Fleetwood and I have an understanding. Long ago we both made a pact to detest each other.”

Garrick’s gaze remained on the door. “I believe he truly hates you.”

“Not entirely his fault, I suppose. His mother has taught him to do so from the cradle. She never forgave my father for running off with my mother and thereby soiling the family name for all eternity. When I came into the title last year instead of her precious Jeremy, she nearly keeled over with apoplexy.”

“I am well aware of your family history. Be careful, Angelstone. I swear there was murder in Fleetwood’s expression just now.”

“Calm yourself, Sutton. Your imagination is running riot.”

“I’m not so certain. I have the distinct impression that if Jeremy Fleetwood could find a way to do you in without making himself look guilty in the process, he wouldn’t hesitate a minute.” Garrick smiled suddenly. “There’s a solution to your dilemma, you know.”

“And that is?”

“Do your duty by your title, man. Get yourself a wife and then get yourself an heir as quickly as possible. Once the title is secure for another generation on your side of the family, the Fleetwoods will cease praying for your demise. If you have an heir, there would no longer be any point in hoping you’ll kick the bucket.”

“I congratulate you on your pragmatic approach to the situation,” Sebastian said, “Perhaps I shall give your notion some consideration.”

Garrick gave him a sharp, inquiring look. “What’s this? Don’t tell me you’ve finally decided to be sensible.”

“I have been told that at my age a man should begin to demonstrate the qualities of wisdom and responsibility, Sutton.”

Garrick shook his head again. “You truly are in an odd mood tonight.”

“Yes. Perhaps you’d better convey my apologies to young Merryweather before I change my mind.”

Sebastian ignored the gossip that swept through the
ton
the following afternoon as the haut monde learned of his apology to Trevor Merryweather. Instead of making himself available to the curious in his club or retreating to the privacy of his library, he took himself off to keep an appointment at a certain coffeehouse near the docks.

Whistlecroft’s message had reached Sebastian just as he had sat down to a leisurely late breakfast. The note had been short and to the point. Whistlecroft’s messages generally were brief, as the Bow Street Runner did not read or write with any great skill.

At three o’clock Sebastian walked into the coffeehouse and found Whistlecroft waiting for him in his customary booth. The Runner raised his mug in greeting. Sebastian went forward to join him.

Whistlecroft was a heavyset man with a florid, bewhiskered face and shrewd little eyes. The purple veins in his nose bespoke a fondness for gin and he seemed to have a perpetual cold during the winter months. He always wore a grimy scarf around his neck and snuffled a great deal.

“Good afternoon, yer lordship. I see ye got my message.”

“I trust this matter will prove more amusing than the last, Whistlecroft.” Sebastian sat down in the booth across from the Runner. “I am in the mood for something a bit more challenging.”

“Yer too good at this sort o’ thing, that’s yer problem.” Whistlecroft grinned, displaying several gaps in his teeth. “Well, I got a new one that should interest ye. Same arrangement as before? I collect the reward from the suitably grateful party what hired me?”

“The reward and the credit, Whistlecroft. Neither are of any use to me.”

“Must be nice to be rich,” Whistlecroft said with a sigh. “And have a fancy title into the bargain. Don’t mind tellin’ ye, I still don’t understand why ye take such an interest in these little affairs.”

Sebastian signaled for coffee. “I’ve explained that before, Whistlecroft. You provide me with an amusing hobby. Every man needs a hobby, don’t you agree?”

“I wouldn’t know about that, yer lordship. Ain’t never had time for no hobby. Too busy trying to keep food on the table for me and mine.”

Sebastian smiled coolly. “I trust you and yours are eating somewhat better since we began our partnership.”

Whistlecroft chuckled. “That we are, m’lord. That we are. My wife’s getting plump and the five little ones is all filling out nicely. We moved into a little house just last week. Real pleasant, it is.”

“Excellent. Then let me hear what you have for me this time.”

Whistlecroft hunched forward and lowered his voice. “A little matter o’ blackmail and a nice bit o’ jewelry, m’lord. I think ye’ll find it amusing enough.”

hat do I know of Angelstone?” Hester, Lady Pembroke, paused with her teacup halfway to her mouth and looked at Prudence. “Only that he is not on speaking terms with his relatives and that he has an exceedingly dangerous reputation. All of which makes him extremely interesting, of course. Why do you ask?”

Prudence smiled. Hester was an awesomely built woman of indeterminate years, whose size was exceeded only by her generous heart and her lively interest in the affairs of the
ton
. As she had once explained to Prudence, she had long been deprived of her natural place in the social world due to the mysterious disappearance of the famed Pembroke jewels a generation earlier. One could not move in the best circles of the
ton
without money, regardless of one’s pedigree.

Now that she had money, Hester was happily indulging herself in all the pleasures of society that had previously been denied to her. She had concluded that she had an innate sense of style and when the
Morning Post
reported that gowns of lavender and violet hues were the most fashionable this season, Hester had redone her wardrobe accordingly. Today her stout frame was encased in a heavily flounced and ruffled lavender gown trimmed with pink lace.

Hester was an old friend of Prudence’s family. She and
her late husband had lived in an ancient, tumbledown manor house that was located not far from the Merryweather farm. The Pembroke ghost, which was almost as famous as the missing Pembroke jewels, had provided Prudence with her first real experience in the investigation of spectral phenomena.

“I’m asking about Angelstone because Trevor has taken this ridiculous notion into his head that I must be very careful around the earl,” Prudence explained. “He seems to think the man is out to seduce me. Utter nonsense, of course, but Trevor is very agitated about it.”

“As well he should be, I suppose. The earl is, as I said, most interesting, but there is no indication that he is casting about for a wife as yet. Therefore, we must assume that when he pays attention to a young lady, he has other things on his mind.”

“He might simply wish to converse with her about matters of mutual intellectual interest,” Prudence suggested hopefully.

“Not likely.” Hester put down her teacup, her expression thoughtful. “One of the reasons Angelstone is so completely fascinating is precisely because he flouts Society’s rules. Treats the Social World with contempt, for the most part, just as it once treated his parents.”

“But you said he’s invited to all the best balls and soirees.”

“Certainly. There is nothing Society thrives on more than being treated with contempt by a titled gentleman who has money to burn and more than a hint of danger about him.”

“I see. How very odd.”

“Not at all. Only recall how Society has doted on Byron. Angelstone is very shrewd. He knows how to stay just this side of the boundary of what is acceptable. And since he assumed the title, every hostess in Town vies to lure him with an invitation to one of her affairs.”

“He is certainly an interesting man,” Prudence said.

“Yes, indeed.” Hester turned thoughtful. “And one of the most interesting things about him is why he has not used the power he acquired along with the title to crush his relatives.”

Prudence frowned. “Crush them?”

“It would be easy enough for him to do. He controls a fortune, after all. And he has great social power. Everyone assumes the reason he has not gotten his relatives banished from Society is simply that it amuses him to play cat-and-mouse games with them.”

“I cannot believe he would deliberately hurt his family. I rather liked him,” Prudence ventured.

“I’m sure he can be charming when he chooses. And he was no doubt more than charming when he asked you to dance with him. The thing is, Prue, Trevor is absolutely correct to be concerned about any connection between you and the earl. Angelstone is said to amuse himself in some rather odd ways. He might find it entertaining to ruin this Season’s most interesting Original.”

Prudence bit her lip. “Come, now, madam. I am five-and-twenty, after all. A bit past the age of ruination.”

“Not yet, my dear. Not yet. And if there is anything Society loves more than a Fallen Angel, it’s a good, juicy scandal. You are the talk of the Town at the moment. Every eye is upon you. If your name is linked to Angelstone’s, there will be no end to the gossip.”

Prudence took another sip of tea. “The only reason I’m the center of attention is because of that business with the Pembroke family treasure.”

“Of course, my dear.” Hester beamed with delight and gave an affectionate pat to the diamond pendant around her throat. It had been part of the cache Prudence had discovered. “Everyone knows you found my jewels when you investigated the Pembroke ghost. The
ton
is quite enthralled with the tale.”

Prudence wrinkled her nose. “Too bad I did not locate
the Pembroke family ghost while I was at it. Encountering evidence of genuine spectral phenomena would have been far more interesting than discovering a bunch of jewels.”

“But not nearly as useful, Prue. Not nearly as useful. You have changed my life, my dear, and I do not know how I can ever repay you.”

“You know very well you have more than repaid me by bringing Trevor and me to London for a visit. Since the death of our parents, Trevor has been extremely restless in the country. Here in Town he is gaining experience in the ways of the world and he is having a wonderful time.”

“It was the very least I could do to thank you,” Hester said. “I know how concerned you were about Trevor. But I would love to do so much more for you, my dear.” She frowned at Prudence’s demure, unfashionable muslin frock. “I do wish you would allow me to buy you a new wardrobe.”

“Now, Hester, we have been through this before. I am not about to allow you to buy me a trunkful of gowns that I will never be able to wear when I go home to Dorset. It would be a complete waste.”

Hester sighed. “The thing is, Prue, now that you have the attention of the
ton
, it seems only proper that you should dress in the first stare of fashion. I cannot comprehend why you do not take more of an interest in your clothes. You would look lovely in lavender.”