Lord Scoundrel Dies (12 page)

‘I say,’ he muttered, thrusting them back at
Harry. ‘They’re a trifle warm.’

‘She was clearly in the throes of
something,’ Harry agreed ruefully. ‘Lady Vickers, you say. I am not
familiar with her. Are you sure they belong to her?’

‘Aye, I’ve seen her scrawl that signature
before. It’s the big V. Quite distinctive. She’s a crony of my aunt
and I saw her write her name when she was pledging something for
some nonsense.’

‘Something for some nonsense?’ Harry
repeated, bemused, wondering if all young men were this
incomprehensible. ‘Really?’

‘A charity thing for war
widows or motherless babies or some such thing. My Aunt Ernestine
is a terror for helping people. It’s not even as if the poor
blighters
want
to
be helped. She regularly throws parties and auctions off things
that other people donate. It’s more or less people giving away
things they do not want so that other people can buy ‘em and take
them home, probably to give them to some auction at a later date.
Sometimes,’ he added darkly, ‘the old girl ropes me in. It’s
ghastly.’

‘It sounds ghastly and quite
incomprehensibly complicated. But if this Lady Vickers is a
contemporary of your aunt’s… well, wouldn’t she be rather old for
the – uh – enthusiasm these letters clearly demonstrate?’

‘Time of life women go
through,’ Mr. Lampforth explained gravely. ‘Well known. They get to
a certain stage and they act like schoolgirls.
Worse
than schoolgirls, carrying on
with the most inappropriate fellows they can find and really, they
didn’t come anymore inappropriate than Sutton. I blame the romantic
novels you females read. Dangerous stuff.’

‘What rubbish,’ Harry
replied, but without heat. She quite liked a nice romantic novel
every now and then but she was also beginning to realise what an
amiable, if misguided gentleman young Mr. Lampforth was. While he
certainly wouldn’t have said anything to deliberately upset her, he
had a tendency to speak without thinking, giving voice to whatever
stray thought happened to be in his head at any given moment. It
was rather amusing, actually and made a marvelous change from other
people she had met in London so far. The
ton
were all so contrived in their
conversation, or so it seemed to Harry.

‘You don’t suppose a woman was involved in
Lord Sutton’s death, do you?’

‘Good God, no. Why do you ask?’

‘Remember that rose? It was very
incongruous.’

‘Oh, that. Probably a simple
explanation.’

‘For Lord Sutton to be carrying a rose?’

‘Well
I
don’t know. But you can’t suspect a
female. Hard to believe that he was knocked on the head by a
woman.’

‘Women do murder people.’

‘Not nicely bred ones. Besides, poison is
more their choice, I would have thought.’

‘I suppose so.’

She turned her attention to the single
bracelet that Mr. Lampforth had assured her belonged to a young
lady called Olivia Messingham. He was positive it was hers because
the wretched thing had become entangled in his hair during a picnic
not four weeks before. It was the bracelet with the unusual design
of two delicate, jeweled serpents entwined together.

‘In your
hair
? How on earth did
that happen?’

‘Damnedest thing,’ Mr. Lampforth said. ‘I
was sitting there, minding my own business. Thought I’d have some
grouse at the same time Miss Messingham tried to snare some. We
were perched on these silly stools they always trot out for such
occasions and I tipped forward and continued on for the front legs
sank into the grass. I pitched forward and next thing I know, my
head encountered her hand – or rather, her bracelet – and there was
a devil of a fuss. I got trifle on my waistcoat.’

Harry regarded Mr. Lampforth gravely for a
few moments. ‘Do you know,’ she said, after a few moments
reflection, ‘I cannot help but feel you are one of those people
that things happen to. You trip over chairs that were not there a
minute ago or you find the only pothole in an otherwise perfect
expanse of grass or –’

‘You accidentally hit a groundskeeper with a
round of buckshot when one of the dogs grabs the back of your
boot,’ Mr. Lampforth interjected ruefully. ‘That’s it exactly. My
family thinks I’m a disaster and the truth is, bad luck tends to
shadow me.’

‘Accident prone. I understand
completely.’

‘I wish I did. I can’t say it makes me
popular.’

‘It’s not your fault. It’s like a disease.
One has to make allowances.’

The last item that Mr. Lampforth could
identify, with any conviction, was a considerable pile of IOU’s
that had been simply labeled “de Veers”.

‘Antony de Veers,’ Mr.
Lampforth said briefly. He looked at the sums that were owned and
whistled between his teeth. ‘I knew he liked to dip deep but the
man owed a
fortune
.’

‘Even more than Lady Astor,’ Harry agreed.
‘A man might be rather desperate to get these back, wouldn’t you
say?’

‘Desperate enough to conk old Sutton on the
head, do you think?’

‘It does seem possible. This jewelry, it was
probably stolen, which means the owners didn’t know where it was.
But debts and letters… he would have had a purpose for them,
surely. What sort of man is this de Veer?’

‘A bit of a cold fish, I’ve always
thought.’

‘I can’t say I’ve met him,’ Harry reflected
meditatively. ‘That’s the worst of being a new arrival on the
social scene. One simply does not know who anybody else is.’

‘Not a bad thing,’ Mr. Lampforth reassured
her. ‘Society can be dreadfully dull.’

‘You would think that. You’re a man and all
the dances and theatre and museums and garden parties probably
don’t interest you in the least. What is Mr. de Veer interested
in?’

‘Oh, the usual stuff. Racing and boxing.
I’ve seen him at Tattersall’s on a regular basis. He keeps a very
high flying stable and is a regular knock-or-nothing on a horse.
And he’s forever at the dens, of course; the card rooms, you
understand.’

‘So basically, he likes to gamble?’

‘That does seem to be his main interest. Not
a petticoat chaser. Actually, he’s rather like my friend Monty,
except that Monty is a decent enough chap and de Veer is the
cutting sort. Nasty mouth on him.’

‘He sounds rather like he would be an
excellent candidate for a murderer.’

‘No doubt about it,’ Mr. Lampforth agreed
cheerfully. ‘I could quite see him in the role of villain.’

‘Not that we’re interested
in discovering who
did
kill Lord Sutton. Are we?’ Harry said doubtfully.

‘Certainly not. Apart from anything else,
the fellow got what he deserved. Going around playing those sorts
of games. What did he expect?’

‘Yes, but if people start going around
murdering people who deserve it, a third of London would surely be
laying in the street,’ Harry pointed out. ‘Just because you don’t
like a person doesn’t mean you should be allowed to kill them.’

‘Matter of opinion,’ Mr. Lampforth said,
after contemplating this for a moment.

Harry started putting things away again.
‘Never mind. I have a place to start. Although,’ she grimaced, ‘I
can’t say I’m looking forward to restoring Mr. de Veer’s chits to
him. I’ll have to think of a very subtle way of doing so.’ She cast
her companion a hopeful look. ‘Unless you’d care to do so?’

‘I’d muck it up,’ Mr. Lampforth said
regretfully. ‘Best will in the world and all that, but I’d just as
likely botch it and I don’t fancy telling de Veer some Banbury
story about why I’m trying to stuff a wad of paper into his
pocket.’

Harry could quite see how this could go
horribly wrong, especially as Mr. Lampforth had clearly
demonstrated his disaster prone nature to her. He would try to
carry it off but something, some malignant outside force, would
prevent him from achieving success. ‘Never mind.’

‘D’you know who might come in handy? Not
just for restoring those debts to de Veer but for identifying the
rest of that treasure.’

‘Who?’

‘The viscount.’

‘Who?’

‘You know. Lord Talisker.’

‘No,’ Harry said with some certainty. ‘I
think not.’

‘But why not? He knows everybody, goes
everywhere and could probably even help with those chits. Clever
fellow, is Talisker.’

‘I do not care if he is Plato reborn. He has
indicated, on more than one occasion, that he thinks I should give
up the idea of returning anything,’ Harry said tartly. ‘In fact, he
has insisted I give up the idea. Frankly, I find it highly unlikely
that he would help me, even if I asked for it.’

‘Oh now,’ Mr. Lampforth chided. ‘I admit he
was a bit fusty with the whole body thing, but can’t blame him
entirely. Bit of a facer, discovering a body. I was a trifle winded
myself.’

‘Yes, but you weren’t telling me what to do,
practically from the moment you met me. I have never encountered a
man who insists on having his opinion listened to quite so
ardently. Clearly very few people disregard Lord Talisker’s august
utterances, which is unfortunate as he could do with a set down or
two. I cannot abide a man who is too much in love with his own
estimation of himself.’

‘Oh I say,’ Mr. Lampforth said, a little
shocked. ‘I daresay he meant it for the best.’

‘Yes, well I don’t need another lecture on
the subject so it would be best to leave his lordship out of it,’
Harry said briskly, rising to her feet. ‘You have been very helpful
and I am very appreciative.’

‘A pleasure,’ he assured her with a small
bow. ‘Let me know how it goes.’

‘I will. And now, I’d best be getting back.
I still have to find something to buy before I return home.’ And
with a sunny smile, Harry turned her footsteps towards Bond
Street.

Charlie thoughtfully watched Miss Honeywood
go.

Full of
pluck
, he reflected, his encounter
confirming his original opinion. Most of the time, girls like that
terrified him – they were so alarmingly efficient – but it was
impossible to be alarmed by Harriet Honeywood. Once again, she had
spoken to him much like another fellow might and it had all been
perfectly agreeable, with none of his usual discomfort coming to
the fore. One thing he did think, however, was that she was wrong
about what assistance Lord Talisker could render. The man was far
more knowledgeable than Charlie. Besides, he had also been to
Sutton’s house. It seemed a pity that he wasn’t having some fun as
well. More than a pity – it was a damned shame.

This nebulous thought
actually found the fallow ground to grow and blossom when, some
hours later he came across Talisker at White’s. He was sitting in
conversation with several other gentlemen, Corinthians both of them
and they were all looking very sharp; bang up to the mark, in fact.
There was no doubt that the viscount was a natty dresser, always
ahead of the pack with his wardrobe. Fashion was rather lost on
Charlie, although he made sporadic attempts to cut a figure,
usually after one or more of his friends badgered him into it. But
Charlie knew he was no Corinthian, nor a dandy (thank God), nor a
fop or a nob or anything in particular. Most of the time, that
suited him very well.
Being
something seemed to involve a lot of
effort.

He contemplated the small group for a
moment, mulling over his skittish thoughts, before making up his
mind. Charlie hoofed it across to the little gathering. All three
men looked up at him. Lord Yorke, Mr. Gantry and the viscount.

‘Lampforth, isn’t it?’ Lord Yorke lifted his
monocle and applied it to his left eye. This wasn’t the affectation
it appeared to be as his lordship had difficulties seeing out of
the eye since an unfortunate fencing accident some years
before.

‘Gentlemen,’ Charlie said, refusing to be
cowed. He looked at Talisker who looked back unenthusiastically. ‘A
word?’

There was a pause, before Lord Talisker
nodded, a little curtly. He excused himself and Charlie led him to
a table off to one side, anxious that their conversation not be
overheard.

‘I hope this isn’t about that business the
other night,’ his lordship began pleasantly. ‘Because I thought I
made myself clear. I want nothing more to do with it.’

‘You did, rather,’ Charlie admitted. ‘But I
just came from a meeting with Miss Honeywood –’

‘I am glad you survived.’

Charlie looked the viscount over frowningly.
‘I know it seems harebrained, doing what she’s doing but I
overheard Lady Astor last night. Miss Honeywood managed to return
her chits to her, y’know.’

‘Yes, she said as much to me when I
encountered her last night,’ his lordship admitted. ‘How did she do
it?’

‘Bit of luck. Saw her in the park and
managed to sneak them into her bag.’

His lordship swore softly. ‘It’s a miracle
she was not caught. And if she had been… what then?’

‘She wasn’t caught,’ Charlie pointed out.
‘So explanations weren’t necessary. But as I was saying, I
overheard a conversation between Lady Astor and some fellow last
night and… well frankly, she was mighty relieved. Uneasy still, you
understand, as she didn’t know how they had come to be there. But
relieved. She was vastly relieved.’

‘I daresay she was. Rumor had it that her
ladyship was up to her armpits.’

‘Yes, but don’t you see? Miss Honeywood had
helped her. I didn’t think much of her plan either, until then but
when I heard the woman… I tell you Talisker, it quite changed my
mind. And the thing is,’ he hurried on, when his lordship opened
his mouth, no doubt to say something scathing, ‘I think she needs
help. Not with all of them. But we can’t identify some of the
owners and there’s the small matter of de Veer.’