Lord Scoundrel Dies (22 page)

‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ Aubrey murmured.
‘A witness.’

‘Who isn’t at all likely to come
forward.’

‘Yes, but if they saw everything then surely
she would be in danger. A murderer can’t appreciate an
audience.’

‘Maybe they didn’t see her?’

‘If she was there at all,’ Aubrey sighed.
‘This is all speculation.’

‘Well, the sooner we get those bits and
pieces back to where they’re supposed to be, the safer I’ll feel. I
don’t need anybody thinking I saw more than I should have.’

‘With any luck – and with three of us
dealing with it – this should all be over in the next few
days.’

‘And I will never stick my nose into some
fellow’s house after dark again unless I’m damned sure he’s alive
and kicking,’ his companion said fervently. ‘Clearly, that kind of
behavior lands one in all manner of strife.’

‘Truly, although you could hardly have
envisioned that he would be dead,’ Aubrey murmured, thoughts
turning to the night ahead. As eager as he was to have done with it
all, he was looking forward to seeing Miss Honeywood again. This
time, he would try and keep his tongue under control. He might not
approve of her but he could not help but find her extremely
engaging, especially when he managed to ruffle her feathers. She
certainly was a change from the females he was used to dealing
with. In the space of two days she had managed to… what was it,
exactly? Grow on him?

He was so preoccupied by what it was that
Miss Honeywood had managed to do that he did not hear Lampforth
until the man said, rather impatiently, ‘Did you hear what I
said?’

He hadn’t. ‘My apologies. Woolgathering, I’m
afraid. What was it?’

‘I said that if you really do think Harry –
Miss Honeywood – is in any danger, perhaps we should return all the
items ourselves.’

Aubrey arched an eyebrow. ‘Harry?’

Lampforth smiled rather shamefacedly. ‘It
seemed easier than all that mister, miss business. And she is
rather like another fellow, wouldn’t you say?’

Aubrey wouldn’t have said so at all. He
might find Harriet exasperating but he had never once forgotten she
was very much a female. ‘Do you really think she would allow us to
leave her out of this affair?’

Lampforth thought about it for a moment,
then shook his head ruefully. ‘Not for a minute.’

‘There you are, then.’

They had reached the distinctive bow window
of White’s in which several dandies were lolling with appropriate
lassitude.

‘A drink?’ Lampforth murmured.

‘Why not?’ Aubrey agreed.

Once inside and seated, they glanced around
the lounge and Lampforth touched his arm, hissing, ‘Over there, by
the fireplace.’

Aubrey looked and saw the long, ungainly
figure of Mr. Fielding. He was nursing a glass of red wine and
looking, Aubrey thought wryly, rather pleased with himself.

‘That’s the look of a man who believes that
he has done an excellent job, wouldn’t you say?’ he murmured.

Lampforth nodded and sipped his Madeira.
‘Hardly the sort who looks like he’d know how to hire footpads.’ He
sounded a little disgruntled.

‘That was probably Lucrezia’s idea,’ Aubrey
said thoughtfully. ‘She has a… diverse range of acquaintances.’

‘That sounds about right,’ his companion
said gloomily. ‘When it comes right down to it, women are more than
happy to get a chap into trouble.’

His lordship had no doubt that Mr. Lampforth
wasn’t thinking entirely of the exotic opera singer that had
captured London – and a goodly portion of the well-heeled men in it
– so effortlessly. He was thinking of Harriet Honeywood who, while
nothing like the Capaldi, was nevertheless just as irresistible,
albeit for entirely different reasons. Once again, he found himself
looking forward to the night ahead and felt a touch of unease at
his eagerness.

It’s just that this
enterprise is a relief from boredom
, he
told himself firmly. As was Miss Honeywood for he rarely had the
opportunity to lock horns with anybody so decisively. She might be
vastly irksome at times but she had a ready wit and intelligence
that made him sit up and take notice.

That is the only reason I am keen to further
this acquaintance. For really, she is not at all my type. She is
the very antithesis of my type for I do not, in the general course
of things, enjoy a woman who takes exception to almost everything I
say.

Comforted by this, Aubrey sipped his Madeira
and refused to fret about the matter any further.

Chapter Nine

In an effort not to appear as an
overburdened pack animal, Harry had put half of the things she was
to show Lord Talisker in her reticule and half in a second bag
which she concealed in the pocket of the light cloak that she wore.
Everybody wore cloaks to the theatre, even in the warmth of July
and if she did not wear it she could carry it artfully draped
across her arm.

They were heading to Drury Lane, to the
Royal Theatre, enormously popular since it had reopened the year
before after being rebuilt following a fire. Harry genuinely
enjoyed the theatre and she was particularly looking forward to the
evening’s performance of Hamlet. Not so Sarah, who much preferred
the spectacle of the opera or something ‘a little less wordy’.

A great many people had
also decided to attend that evening, it appeared, as there was a
great clutter of carriages dropping off their well-dressed
occupants. Used to such inconveniences, they waited patiently until
their turn came. They were a good three quarters of an hour early
for the rise of the curtain but that was all part of the
experience, Aunt Margaret had assured Harry the first time they had
come. To see and be seen was even more important than to take an
interest in the cultural aspects on offer. A great deal
more
important to many
people as culture was sometimes an inconvenience that was to be
endured.

Entering the spacious foyer, Harry’s eyes
alighted almost immediately on the willowy figure of Olivia
Messingham in the company of her mother and the Earl of
Maudsely.

‘Look at that,’ Sarah whispered. ‘Olivia
Messingham has been setting her cap for that man all Season.’

‘It appears with some success,’ Aunt
Margaret sniffed. ‘She’s done very well for herself, all things
considered.’

Harry knew perfectly well what lay behind
this remark for Olivia’s great good luck at securing the interest
of an earl had been much discussed. It was considered particularly
fortunate as her grandfather on her mother’s side had been in
trade, or so it was rumored. Harry struggled to see how that could
be a bad thing but the smell of the ‘shop’ was considered a
dreadful impediment and people afflicted with such an unfortunate
past were regarded with pity or, rather more unkindly,
contempt.

Harry looked the earl over critically and
decided that, catch or not, she would find his attentions extremely
unwelcome. He had to be at least fifteen years older than Miss
Messingham and wore that smug, self-satisfied air of a man well
pleased with his own importance in the world. Not that Olivia
Messingham’s marital prospects were of any interest. What
interested Harry was the fact that, once again, she was being
presented with the opportunity to return that wretched bracelet if
she could only think of a way of doing so. She had been carrying it
about with her like a talisman since the day after removing it from
Lord Sutton’s house and would be relieved to see it gone. Actually,
she had hopes of returning more than one item tonight. Who knew? If
Lord Talisker could identify further items, perhaps she might find
their owners present as well for, if the crowds were anything to go
by, half of London had turned out to experience the joys of
Hamlet.

She had wondered how his lordship would
engineer their ‘accidental’ meeting tonight. He had said he would
be subtle. After his masterly performance as a rapt Roman scholar
earlier that day, she was inclined to think he had the talent for
it.

Despite the fact that she had been expecting
him to appear, she had been so engrossed in studying those around
her that when Lord Talisker did appear, she gave a small start of
surprise.

‘Miss Honeywood,’ that deep, familiar voice
beside made her swing around a great deal too quickly and she
almost lost her balance. A large hand took her elbow, steadying
her.

‘My Lord Talisker!’ she said, not having to
feign breathless surprise. She had thought that he would appear
during a break in the performance. It was difficult to know how she
could show him anything under the watchful eyes of her relatives.
‘How nice to see you again.’

‘My lord, how delightful!’ Aunt Margaret,
who had been peering across the room only a moment before, was
suddenly all attention. She had been speculating the day before on
whether or not they would see Talisker any time soon after he had
paid particular attention to Harry at Mrs. Finch’s delightful
dance.

Sarah, too, immediately transferred her
flirtatious blue eyes from a gentleman who had been smiling at her
appreciatively to the tall, good-looking man who had joined them.
‘My lord,’ she purred.

He smiled, but clearly he was focused on
Harry. A little too focused, as far as Harry was concerned. He
smiled down at her with just a hint of wickedness in his dark
eyes.

‘Imagine seeing you here,’ he said
pleasantly. ‘Are you a fan of Mr. Shakespeare’s works?’

‘Very much so. And you, sir?’

‘Indeed. His plays are exceptional,’ he
transferred his smile – his very fulsome smile – to her aunt. ‘Lady
Astley, Miss Astley. Such a crowd tonight, is there not?’

‘So very true,’ Aunt Margaret agreed. ‘Much
as I adore the theatre, the crush is so trying, especially in this
heat.’

‘It is quite unpleasant. Forgive the
presumption, but would you care to join me in my box? Unless you
have your own seating arrangements.’

‘Your box?’ Lady Astley’s voice went up a
little on the last word. She paused, collecting herself then said
with tolerable composure. ‘But that would be delightful, I’m sure.
Wouldn’t it be delightful girls?’

Sarah agreed immediately, aware that being
seen in the Talisker private box was quite a coup. Harry was rather
less thrilled. He was supposed to be downplaying their meeting.
Inviting them to join him in his private box would do exactly the
opposite.

He met her eyes, his own alight with
amusement. ‘Miss Honeywood?’

‘It’s very kind of you to offer, but –’

‘More
than kind,’ her aunt interrupted. ‘We would be
delighted.’

Which effectively silenced any objection
Harry might make. It had been futile to object, anyway as there was
no way of getting her aunt to refuse such a delightful catch as
Talisker.

Lord Talisker showed them to his box, which,
it must be admitted, provided an excellent view of the stage. It
was beautifully appointed, the velvet chairs well sprung, the
matching crimson curtains that hung beside the balcony held back
with gold chord. As luxurious as it was, there was a definite
drawback to occupying such an elevated position for the occupants
of the private boxes were the object of interest for the rest of
the theatregoers around them. Harry had never sat in an actual box
before because the Astleys did not keep one but from the moment she
took her seat she felt dreadfully exposed.

Well, this is inconspicuous. What a good
idea! So much better than going riding across a large, generally
unpopulated heath…

There were four seats within, with room for
more if a larger party was attending. He adroitly guided Sarah and
her mother to the pair at the front of the box and deposited Harry
in one of the rear ones, so that they were sitting side by side.
She cast him a fulminating glance, redolent with her thoughts on
this arrangement.

‘Oh now,’ he murmured, dropping his head
towards her, ‘sheath those claws, little cat! If we can arrange it
properly this will give me the opportunity to look at what you have
brought in privacy.’

‘Privacy?’ she hissed back. ‘The entire
theatre is staring at us!’

‘Nonsense. We are not visible to the entire
theatre. I would say that it is no more than half, at best.’

‘Not
a comfort.’

While the lights were dimmed and the chatter
of the crowd grew quiet, Harry could not help but wonder what he
was playing at. Lord Talisker was too knowledgeable in the ways of
society not to understand that the kind of attention he was
lavishing on her was sure to promote all manner of talk. She had
thought she had made her feelings on the subject known the other
day but clearly not. Unless he thought the situation entertaining.
She would not put it past him. What had he said about improving her
cache? If he thought he was doing her any favors, then he clearly
needed to think again for, while she had generated a certain amount
of interest among the eligible bachelors she had not fixed
anybody’s attention in particular and if they thought that Talisker
was after her they would probably look elsewhere. And while she was
not particularly troubled by making an eligible alliance so soon
after arriving in London, he certainly wasn’t to know that.

So it was that she sat
beside him in grim silence. It took some time before the play
managed to weave its magic and she became caught up in the story
being enacted on the stage. But she did become caught up, so much
so that she did not, at first, notice that his lordship was trying
to gain her attention. Really, it wasn’t until he
pinched
her arm that she
snapped back to her surroundings and she turned her head to give
him an indignant look.