Miss in a Man's World (21 page)

‘I'll wager if Ben has his way you'll not be enjoying a long engagement.'

‘No, I doubt we shall,' Georgiana agreed wistfully. ‘But I should still like to maintain contact with you. You're the only real friend I've made since coming to town.'

Lady Eleanor gave the younger woman's hand an
affectionate squeeze. ‘There's nothing to stop you visiting me whenever you wish. My daughter and I shall love having you as our guest. If Ben's overbearing ways ever become too much, and you wish to have a break from him for a week or two, or even longer, come and stay with me. You'll be safe from his tyranny there.'

‘You never know, I might just take you up on that offer one day,' Georgiana responded, before some new arrivals captured their attention.

Lady Eleanor was not slow to voice her disfavour. ‘I'd forgotten they were coming.'

‘You don't approve of Lady Wenbury, that's plain. And, given your sisterly affection for Ben, understandable. I do not know her well enough to have formed an opinion. That said, I found her gracious enough yesterday evening.'

A sound suspiciously like a snort was the response to this. ‘Oh, yes, she's acquired all the social skills, I'll give her that. And I'll go as far as to say, even after presenting Wenbury with his first child last year, she's still a fine-looking woman, though not quite as lovely as she once was. There's no denying Charlotte Vane was quite breathtakingly lovely in her youth—the face of an angel and the figure of a goddess. And the heart of a conniving harpy! My one consolation is that Ben instantly saw her for what she was when she married Wenbury. What a lucky escape for him, it was to be sure! And look at him now—he has you!'

Georgiana found herself quite unequal to meeting her friend's admiring gaze and was fortunate enough, a moment later, to catch sight of someone of far more significance to divert her thoughts.

‘Gracious, me! Sir Willoughby Trent is one of their party. Now, I find him of far more interest.'

Lady Eleanor was clearly startled. ‘Do you, my dear?'

‘Perhaps I should say…diverting,' Georgiana returned, quickly correcting her blunder. ‘What do you know about him? Why does one never see him with his wife?'

‘Ah well, that much I can tell you! Sir Willoughby happens to be married to a cousin of an acquaintance of mine, the wife of a local squire, who lives close to Ben, as it happens.'

Georgiana gave a start as memory stirred. ‘Not Squire Wyndham, by any chance?'

‘Why, yes!' Lady Eleanor again betrayed amazement. ‘Never tell me you've met him? He so rarely comes up to town.'

‘No, I've never met him,' Georgiana was able to reply with total honesty, though sensibly keeping her gaze averted. ‘Ben mentioned his name in passing once. All I know is that he has two daughters.'

‘Yes, that's right. The younger girl, Mary, is a sweet-natured child. Her elder sister Clarissa is quite another matter!'

Once again it was clear that she and Lady Eleanor held similar views. Unfortunately Georgiana could not own to the fact, at least not on this particular occasion. So, instead, she turned her companion's thoughts again to Sir Willoughby.

‘As I said, he married Lady Wyndham's cousin quite a number of years ago. She's a good deal older than he is—by some ten years, if my memory serves me correctly. He was an only child, quite pampered by an adoring mother. I think his wife may have taken her place. But for all that the marriage, I think, is a happy one. Lady Trent dislikes town life, and is content to remain in the country. For his part Sir Willoughby likes
to spend a little time in London and strut about in his diamond-buckled shoes, just to prove that he's a worthy of some substance. But to be perfectly honest, I think he's happiest at home being spoilt by his doting spouse.'

Perhaps Ben was right, Georgiana reflected, as she watched, to rapturous applause, a rather large female seat herself at the pianoforte to begin the evening's entertainment. Sir Willoughby Trent just didn't seem the type to involve himself in robbery and murder. Besides which, anyone who walked around in diamond-studded shoes was hardly short of a guinea or two. No, the mastermind was not Sir Willoughby, she decided, mentally crossing him off the list.

 

Later that same evening the Viscount, oddly enough, was coming to the same conclusion about another of the suspects. Having arrived at his club quite early, he had settled himself at a discreet corner table, where he had been obliged to wait quite some time before his patience was rewarded by the arrival of at least one of the questionable trio.

‘Ah, Gyles! Care to join me in a hand or two of piquet?' he invited.

A rueful expression washed over Lord Rupert's face. ‘Best not, old fellow. Pockets to let, and all that. Had a run of the most ill luck lately. Besides, I've enough IOUs floating about the metropolis at present without adding to the blighters.'

His lordship wasn't slow to appreciate the situation. ‘Merton cutting up rough, is he?'

‘Worst he's ever been,' Lord Rupert confirmed. ‘That dratted brother of mine has always had an uncertain temper. But I thought he was going to suffer an apo
plexy this afternoon when I dropped in to touch him up for a loan.'

His lordship, though sympathetic, could well appreciate the stance the Duke of Merton had taken. Lord Rupert Gyles was universally considered a genial soul for the most part, but there was undeniably an irresponsible streak in his nature. He had always enjoyed the finer things in life, and had lived beyond his means for years.

‘Dare I ask how much?'

The Duke's brother had the grace to look a little shamefaced as he revealed what he owed.

His lordship pursed his lips in a silent whistle. ‘In that case you'd best join me in a glass of wine, and we'll play a hand or two merely for love.'

‘Ha! That's all very well for you to say,' Lord Rupert scoffed, readily accepting the invitation, all the same. ‘You've that in abundance, too. Lucky dog! Any fool can see that. I must say, though,' he continued, after fortifying himself from the contents of his glass, ‘you've found yourself an absolute darling there… And those gauds she was wearing! I don't suppose you'd consider loaning them to me for a week or two so I can clear my debts? I'd return them to you, as soon as I was on my feet again, as it were.'

‘Assuredly not!' Although his lordship was instantly alert at mention of the sapphire necklace, he quickly appreciated his companion was in jest, as he'd never attempted to borrow so much as a penny from him before. ‘Do you know, Gyles, you could do worse than find yourself a wife and settle down.'

The advice was not well received. ‘Oh, not you too, confound it! That's exactly what that dratted brother of mine insists I do. He wants me to leave London in the
middle of the Season and return to the ancestral pile in order to court a rich widow who's recently moved into the area. A rich widow with two brats hanging on her apron strings, I might add!' He visibly shuddered. ‘Can you see me happily settling down in that situation?'

‘You won't know what it's like until you try.'

‘Oh, come on, Finch. I'm a bachelor, born and bred. Happy as can be in my rooms overlooking the park, with just my faithful valet Barns to take care of my needs. Besides…' he shrugged ‘…I consider there's something rather sordid about marrying just for money. I know plenty of people do—Chard, to name but one. He must have run through his wife's fortune years ago, the way he plays. And what's he left with…? A wife he can't bear the sight of and keeps hidden away in the country! No, that's not for me. I've got my faults, plenty of 'em, but I've some principles too. I wouldn't saddle myself with a wife, just for money. It's so damnably degrading! It'd be dashed unfair on the filly, too.'

After silently contemplating everything he'd heard, his lordship said, ‘I don't see as you've any choice, Gyles. You'll have the duns after you, if you remain in town. And you never know, there's just a possibility you might actually like the widow when you meet her.'

 

As the following day, maintaining the trend of the past week or so, was another fine one, Georgie was only too happy to accept the Viscount's written invitation to meet in the park again at the fashionable hour. As they strolled along, acknowledging their many mutual acquaintances, she casually alluded to the matter of the jewellery thefts, and voiced her agreement with him where Sir Willoughby Trent was concerned.

‘He just happened to attend Lady Kilerton's soirée
last night, so I had plenty of opportunity to observe him at leisure.'

He slanted a sympathetic glance. ‘Was it such a devilishly tedious affair, my darling, that you found the sight of the powdered and painted baronet of more interest?'

She couldn't forbear a chuckle at this. Ben was notoriously critical when it came to judging the accomplishments of his fellow man, and as a rule avoided such entertainments as soirées like the plague.

‘I must confess we were obliged to listen to one or two, as you are wont to call them, screech owls performing, and a couple of distressingly poor performances on the pianoforte. Not to mention Lord Wenbury's love poem, which very nearly sent me into whoops. But apart from those lamentable contributions it was a most enjoyable evening.'

She risked a swift glance up at him in order to assess his mood. She strongly suspected that if she were to display a deal of interest in his own investigations, she would discover nothing at all. So she asked as casually as she could, ‘And how did your evening fare?'

‘Most instructive, as things turned out. After a deal of consideration since leaving White's last night, I'm now prepared to cross Sir Rupert Gyles off the list. It just so happens I considered him almost on a par with Sir Willoughby as the most unlikely suspect. Had it not been for the fact that it's common knowledge that he lives beyond his means much of the time, but always manages to come about eventually, I would have dismissed him at the outset.'

Although not doubting his judgement, she was curious. ‘What ultimately convinced you of his innocence?'

‘Discovering, amazingly enough, that Sir Rupert
has a rather quaint streak of chivalry running through him. He considers marrying merely for money beneath contempt, and cited Chard's situation as what typically happens when people do.'

Georgiana listened with interest when Ben then went on to disclose the Duke of Merton's ultimatum, and solution to his brother's woes. ‘And do you suppose he will marry the widow?'

‘That remains to be seen. But I strongly suspect Lord Rupert will leave the capital within days in order to avoid the duns, and be forced to rusticate at the ancestral pile for several weeks, as he's no country property of his own. Whether he does change his mind and make contact with the widow is another matter. My point is, my love, that beneath that veneer of idle insouciance beats the heart, surprisingly enough, of a man of high principles. So, I put it to you, if he would not wed merely to get his hands on money, is he likely to condone murder in order to get himself out of debt?'

After taking a moment only to consider, Georgiana shook her head. ‘I wouldn't have thought so, no.'

‘Precisely my own conclusion,' he concurred. ‘Furthermore, if he were the one involved, he would hardly be leaving London when he was expecting some time soon his lion's share of the money from the sale of those emeralds… So that just leaves Lord Chard.'

Easily detecting the note of uncertainty in his voice, she looked up at him sharply. ‘There's some doubt in your mind, I can tell. You don't suppose the Dowager misunderstood my godfather's dying words, and that it had absolutely nothing to do with any of “the five” at all?'

‘No, I wasn't thinking that,' he assured her promptly. ‘The only reason I doubted it could be Chard was simply
because it was universally acknowledged that he had married a wealthy cit's daughter. But something Lord Rupert remarked on yesterday has given me cause to wonder.'

Raising his eyes, the Viscount stared resolutely ahead at some distant spot. His dark brows drawn together in thought. ‘Just let's suppose for a moment that the vast fortune the wife had been rumoured to have brought to the union had been exaggerated. Supposing Chard's excessive gaming—and he has been known to lose vast sums at one sitting—had run through his wife's dowry some time ago…what then? Unlike Lord Rupert, who has been in dun territory a dozen and more times since leaving Oxford, Chard has always been prompt in paying his debts.'

‘Then he must be getting financial help somewhere else.'

‘Quite so!' he agreed. ‘Chard is far too astute to place himself in the hands of the money-lenders. So unless there is someone he can call upon in times of need…?'

‘We have our man,' Georgiana finished for him.

‘We do, indeed, my darling. But proving it is a different matter entirely. Remember, he does not soil his hands with the robberies themselves. It's my belief that, like my good friend Charles Gingham, the man at the top is something of a connoisseur when it comes to judging fine gemstones. He wishes to satisfy himself as to their worth, and then promptly passes them on to Master Tate at the gaming house, and then ultimately to Henri Durand.

‘Ah, by the by! I've enlisted Charles's help in the matter,' he went on to reveal. ‘He is to make contact with his cousin upon Henri's return to town. Which, as I've already mentioned, shouldn't be long delayed
now, I wouldn't have thought. I do not hold out much hope of Charles uncovering very much at all, but one never knows.'

Once again he stared thoughtfully at some distant spot. ‘I cannot help thinking that the one we really need to unearth, if we stand the remotest chance of bringing Chard to justice, is this go-between, the seedy, shadowy figure who first made contact with Tate and, I suspect, Henri Durand also. Where does he fit in to it all? More importantly, where does he reside when not carrying out his master's orders? Definitely not with his master in town, that I do know. There's no one in the house who fits that description.'