Lord Scoundrel Dies (25 page)

The desk, at least, did not look ornamental,
not like the leather bound volumes on the shelves. Aubrey stepped
around it, opening the top drawer and dropping the small bundle of
papers in. He had fulfilled his promise to Miss Honeywood; he had
returned the debts although in this instance it seemed a pity. It
would hardly have been a tragedy for de Veer to wonder who, if
anybody, had his debts. The man chose to live his life by the rules
of chance. They should have left him to wonder if his catastrophic
losses would come to light. Digging his hands into the pockets of
his jacket, he strolled back out of the library, crossing to join
the group of gentlemen around the fire who were engaged in low
voiced conversations.

‘Gentlemen,’ he said easily, pouring himself
a glass of claret from the decanter on the table. ‘A pleasant
evening.’

‘Pleasant for de Veer,’ Sir Percival Parry
murmured ruefully. ‘I’ve lost too damned much tonight to be
cheerful about it.’

‘Time to go home then, Percy,’ Aubrey
suggested dryly. He had never been able to understand how anybody
could compound their folly by trying to recoup their losses.
Usually, the only thing they achieved was an even larger debt.

Predictably, Sir Percival demurred. ‘Can’t
do that. Mustn’t give de Veer the satisfaction.’

‘Ay,’ Mr. James Bryant agreed with a
grimace, ‘although I can’t help feel that the cards are against me
tonight. I had three nines but I was pipped by a trio of
ladies.’

‘Bad luck,’ Aubrey murmured, wondering if de
Veer was something of an ivory turner. There were few greater sins
than cheating at cards but he found he did not have to struggle
when he tried to envision his host in the role of card cheat. ‘I
might sit down for another round but I fear I do not have the
commitment of you gentlemen. No matter how hard I try, I am unable
to find card games anything more than mildly entertaining.’

‘Half your luck,’ Sir Percy muttered, half
envious, half disbelieving.

‘You could just walk away, you know,’ Aubrey
pointed out gently. ‘You are not chained to a card table. Why don’t
you and Bryant go and find something else to entertain you?’

‘What, another game, you mean?’ Mr. Bryant
said immediately. ‘Think we’d find better luck elsewhere?’

Aubrey looked at him for a moment. This
wasn’t what he had meant at all but clearly, he was going to get no
further in trying to dislodge either of these gentlemen from their
preferred vice. ‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘You should go and look for
something where you won’t lose your shirts.’

‘Not a bad suggestion,’ Sir Percy allowed.
‘Although de Veer, for all his faults, does lay on a decent amount
of wine.’

‘Which you are undoubtedly paying for.’

‘Even so. Incidentally, has anything more
been heard about Sutton’s death? I haven’t heard of anyone being
apprehended.’

‘Nobody has been apprehended,’ Aubrey told
him. ‘Do you think they will be?’

Sir Percy shook his head decisively. ‘Not
likely. Daresay it was some footpad who had broken in to take what
he could find. Not likely that anybody will track them down.’

‘Why would a footpad take it into his head
to break into the house of a gentleman?’ Aubrey inquired, curious
to know why anybody could think anything so ridiculous.

‘Oh you know,’ Sir Percy said vaguely.
‘Money and the like, I daresay.’

‘That’s right,’ Mr. Bryant agreed. ‘Money.
These scoundrels will go to any lengths.’

‘Doesn’t matter who did it,’ Lord Stanley
who, until that moment appeared to have been asleep in his chair by
the fireplace, spoke without opening his eyes. He was an older man,
heavily jowled and notoriously cantankerous, thanks to being
regularly afflicted with the gout. ‘Nobody will discover the
culprit. I’m cursed tired of all you people nattering on about it
as if anybody cared. Sutton is dead and good riddance. Man was a
bounder and he deserved whatever he got.’

Which effectively seemed to put a stop to
that particular line of conversation. All three gentleman shared a
look, before heading back to the tables, Aubrey to put an end to
this tedious visit, his companions to lose even more of their
families’ inheritance. After another dutiful hour, Lord Talisker,
who had perversely started to win, rose from the table and bade
everybody goodnight.

He could report to Miss Honeywood that he
had completed this particular assignment and was ready for the next
one. With any luck, they could be done with all this nonsense by
Thursday and, as Lord Stanley had so sensibly suggested, they could
then do the sensible thing and forget that Arthur Sutton had ever
existed. He, for one, hoped to never hear the man’s name again.

Chapter Ten

The next four days saw both Harry and Lord
Talisker achieve considerable success in reaching their goals as
they returned all but two of Lord Sutton’s hoarded treasure to its
rightful owners. It was an excellent result and Harry would have
been delighted if it were not for the fact that, rather than
downplay their counterfeit romance, his lordship seemed determined
to do exactly the opposite. She seemed to run into him everywhere,
so much so that she was fast becoming convinced that the man was
dogging her footsteps.

If she was in the park, they encountered
each other and he inevitably joined the party, encouraged to do so
by both her aunt and cousin or whatever other dimwitted female she
happened to be with.

At whatever dance or rout or assembly she
attended, Lord Talisker inevitably appeared, materializing
miraculously at her side like a jinn from an Arabian legend. Not
unnaturally under the circumstances, talk escalated from
speculation to outright assumption. People even began asking her
when an announcement would be made, which invariably left her
groping for the right words. It was hardly surprising when none
came for what was she to say to such complete faradiddle?

It was not as if she did not take him to
task for his outrageous behavior, either.

‘Why must you keep doing this?’ she had
demanded when she could steal a private word with him.

‘What?’ he had demanded, raising an eyebrow.
‘What am I doing?’

‘You know perfectly well.
We had agreed that we should not be seen together. People
are
talking
.’

‘Oh, that,’ he had said indifferently. ‘I
suggest you ignore it. I certainly do.’

‘Ignore –’ For a moment
Harry had been almost overcome with an irresistible urge to seize
him by the shoulders and shake him until those perfect white teeth
rattled. ‘I
can’t
ignore them. You. Are. Ruining. My. Chances.’

He’d looked at her then, dark eyes
glimmering with the amusement that she had been finding
increasingly appealing. Since he had inexplicably softened towards
her, she was finding everything about him appealing, which hardly
helped her sense of injustice. Talisker was the last man for whom
she should be developing feelings. Too many idiotic young females
had done the same thing, only to be left sighing and saddened when
he overlooked them.

‘Do you really think I am ruining any
possibility of you finding a decent match?’

‘Yes!’

‘Rubbish. Since attracting my interest I’ve
seen all manner of fellows eyeing you with considerable
speculation.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous,’ she’d muttered, but
had glanced around her surreptitiously, just the same. All manner
of fellows? Surely not. He was teasing her again, a pastime he
seemed increasingly fond of. ‘And you can’t possibly know how
they’re looking at me.’

‘I think I can.’

‘How can you?’

‘My qualifications are impeccable. I am a
man, you see.’ Tragically, that was undeniable. He was very much a
man. ‘We notice what other men do.’

‘Whatever the case, it is making my life
very uncomfortable. People are asking me when the announcement of
our engagement will be made. Your sister-in-law is being
extraordinarily nice to me, which makes me feel an absolute
charlatan, as I’m not actually joining the family. And my aunt is
positively beside herself with glee. It’s really quite alarming how
puffed up with her own importance she has become for all of her
ghastly cronies are after information they believe she can
provide.’

‘I think you’re exaggerating. And even if
you’re not, does it really signify? Only you could find all this
attention unwelcome.’

‘Any female who is not a pea-goose must find
such attention unwelcome,’ she had returned with a sigh. ‘You’re
doing it deliberately and I want to know why.’

He’d hesitated for a moment, then shook his
head. ‘It’s irresistible? You are so delightfully prickly.’

‘You should be ashamed of yourself, taunting
a helpless woman –’ she had ignored his derisive snort, continuing
on determinedly, ‘who merely wants to finish what she started and
get back to the business of being a debutante.’

‘Are you so desperate to behave like all the
other girls, then? Dance, flirt and turn yourself inside out to
form a suitable alliance?’ he’d asked curiously.

She wasn’t, actually. Not
at all.
Not
behaving in such a manner had been enchanting… but that was
hardly the point. ‘Well if I am you are certainly making it
difficult for me.’

‘My dear Miss Honeywood, I do believe you
have a taste for the dramatic. I am doing no such thing. While I
admit that people are talking they will do that no matter what. I
thought you would enjoy stirring them up. All those expectations.
How can you resist?’ And he had smiled at her with that disarming
charm he had started to display so frequently. ‘Now then… shall we
dance?’

What was one to do with a man like that?

Oddly enough, it wasn’t just his lordship
that she saw a great deal of. Since their alarming discovery, an
unlikely alliance had formed between herself and Mr. Lampforth.
Charlie had taken to turning up on a regular basis, even going so
far as to appear at the social occasions he regularly told her that
he loathed. For some reason his presence was not nearly so
controversial as that of Talisker’s, an anomaly that annoyed Harry
considerably.

‘Why does nobody ever
query
your
presence around me?’ she demanded when Mr. Lampforth came
forward to make his bow as she and Sarah were promenading through
Hyde Park. The fine July weather had brought everybody out and the
pathways were quite crowded. Charlie had approached her without any
hesitation and she realised their relationship had progressed to
easy going friendship. After several moments of – necessarily –
careful conversation her cousin was distracted by another
acquaintance so Harry could speak freely.

‘What do you mean?’ Charlie appeared
bewildered by the question.

‘Well, I see almost as much
of you as I do of Lord Talisker. Which is very nice,’ she added
hastily, lest he think her rude. ‘But nobody has
us
married
off.’

‘Oh that,’ he nodded, face clearing. ‘That’s
because nobody thinks of me as a particular catch whereas Talisker
is tasty fodder for every hopeful mama in London. I wanted to ask
how everything is going. Have you returned all of your reclaimed
booty yet?’

‘Almost. I believe his lordship has a set of
letters to return to Mr. Crompton when he returns to town at the
weekend and I am left with a rather showy jeweled pin, which I am
told belongs to Lady Mountford. We are going to her silly picnic
tonight so I intend to return it to her then. By any means,’ Harry
added grimly. ‘For I must say, it has been a great deal more
stressful than I was anticipating.

‘Good job, though. I must say, I’m impressed
with your industry. Don’t know anybody who would have managed it so
well.’

The unexpected compliment made Harry blush a
little. She had not thought that she had managed particularly well.
Actually, returning things had proved far more difficult than she
had imagined they would and she had more than once almost been
discovered in a position that required an explanation. She feared
that she was developing a reputation as an eccentric, although
apparently her up and coming betrothal had at least given her a
certain immunity from censure and really, a good third of Polite
Society might claim to boast some form of eccentricity so she was
hardly on her own.

‘You’ve been very helpful.’

‘Not really,’ he returned cheerfully. ‘It
was Talisker who proved himself useful. I’m just along for the
ride.’

‘Don’t do yourself an injustice. Your
willingness to help has been extremely heartening, especially when
I consider how disapproving his lordship was, initially.’

‘Speaking of which,’ Charlie observed
cheerfully.

Harry looked around quickly and, sure
enough, Lord Talisker’s tall figure could be seen approaching,
striding towards them with his usual, confident steps. He made a
bow here, turned his head to offer a smile there, but was not
deflected from his course. As it was wont to do of late, her
heartbeat accelerated at the sight of his now very familiar figure.
She was finding it increasingly difficult to protest at these
regular appearances no matter how it looked. There was something
addictive about the verbal sparring that they now engaged in on a
regular basis.

Joining them, he ran his eyes over her dress
critically. It was new, a pale green gauzy cambric with a thin
cream silk underskirt, perfect for such a warm afternoon. Ribbon of
a darker green was threaded beneath the bodice and drawn in neatly
and matching ribbon adorned the edges of the small, puffed sleeves.
The dress was one of the reasons her aunt had shooed the girls out
the door, claiming she did not order new gowns just so the footmen
and maids could appreciate them. A walking dress that looked as
becoming as that green cambric needed to be appreciated by the
whole world.