Obsession Wears Opals (22 page)

Chapter

18

“How exactly are you acquainted with Netherton?” Darius asked as he pushed his way into Harold Pughes’s private apartments near the university. He wasted no time with civilities and decided that if ever a man needed to use the lessons that Rutherford had drilled into him, it might be now.

The element of surprise and a decisive first blow. Come on, Harold, give me what I want.

“What business is that of yours?” Harold sneered. “And good afternoon, by the way! If you’re thinking of crawling back to him with an apology to chase that commission, you can forget it. He left for London this morning and I’m told he has no intentions of returning to Scotland anytime soon.”

“He leaves for London? What of his wife? Won’t it cause a scandal if he arrives in London missing his bride?”

“And now you are an expert on etiquette and scandal?” Harold looked at him in disbelief. “I’m sure it’s nothing to you! Frankly, I’d say he’s going to London to get away from the matter and will avoid a breath of scandal by telling people his wife prefers the countryside to the city in winter.”

“Has he no intentions of finding her?” Darius asked.

“Are you balmy? It’s none of our concern and I imagine he has every intention of recovering his wife! He may jest to say otherwise but I’m—damn it! Why am I even conversing with you?”

“Because,” Darius countered with a smile, “a part of you is still trying to figure out why Douglas gives me free rein in the archives and how it is I have my own carriage and fortunes enough to tell your friend, the earl, to bugger off.”

Harold’s brow furrowed. “How
is
that possible?”

“Tell me everything you know of Netherton and his interests in London and I’ll let you ask me anything you wish of my circumstances and the secrets of my wealth.”

“Your wealth?”

“Netherton is not the only rich man in your acquaintance, Pughes. You may think about casting a wider net and improving your circles as a result.”

“Should I?” Harold shot back, all bravado and swagger, but Darius sensed he’d hit a nerve. “Are you offering me a bribe, Thorne? It’s a bit unexpected, considering your blasted personal integrity.”

Darius just stared back. “Netherton. What do you know of the man?”

“I am not the man’s bosom companion.”

“No. But he confided in you about that sordid little bit of translation he was after and you seemed close enough. As you say though”—Darius shrugged and moved as if to leave—“I’ve probably overestimated your connections.”

“I know him better than most!” Harold offered, openly offended. “My father was his tutor growing up although I only just met him when he was at university. He spends as little time as he can at his estates in Scotland and prefers Town. I admit I was—surprised to hear he’d brought his bride north and then acted as if they intended to settle in.” Pughes shrugged. “But who knows the mind of the nobility? Certainly not you or I, Thorne.”

“And what did your father say of his pupil?”

Pughes walked over to a small cupboard and pulled out a bottle of liquor. “Very little. Richard’s a bit—cold. But he can be very charming. My father encouraged me to stay on his good side if I could.”

“And so you have.”

Harold filled his glass without offering any to his guest. “It’s not a sin to stay in good stead with one’s betters, Thorne.”

“Lord Netherton
isn’t
my better. But that’s a debate for another day.” Darius sighed. “So forget the boy. What about the man?”

“In what regard?” Pughes asked evasively.

“What draws him to London so suddenly? What interests him? Where could I find him in Town?” Darius held his ground. “Come, Pughes. You said you knew him better than most, so let’s have it. I need to know whatever you can convey. All of it—every filthy secret or strange obsession, because I am bound to uncover it, with or without you. Tell me and I’ll keep my promise. Refuse and I’ll find another way and you can continue to play lapdog to the worst kind of men, all in the name of your science.”

“You’re a prig, Thorne. You know this, right?”

“Good day, Pughes.”

“Wait! All right!” Harold downed the contents of his glass, the strong smell of scotch tainting the air. “You must swear you’ll never reveal that we’ve spoken.”

“You have my word.”

“You saw the papers he bought. The last couple of years, I’ve kept an eye out for unusual texts to offer him. He used to be a generous buyer and then, for a time, simply took things from me ‘on account.’ Of course, since his marriage he’s been . . . more free spending and I was happy to give him what he wanted.”

Darius tried to hide his disappointment. “It’s not an uncommon vice.”

“I don’t think he’s limited to the page.”

“In what way?”

“H-he asked about certain entertainments in the city and I . . . had to disappoint him at our lack of variety in sport.”

“What kind of sport?”

“Private clubs for . . .” Harold hesitated and Darius waited as the man weighed out his curiosity to learn a rival’s secrets and the risks of angering Netherton. “Sport with ladies.”

Darius crossed his arms. “There are prostitutes aplenty in the city and a few gambling houses with . . . lovely women on hand. How exactly was he disappointed?”

“I took him to a house. Hell, it was far out of the comfortable confines of my purse and they only admitted me because I had a member of the peerage in tow. But apparently it didn’t meet his expectations.” Pughes poured himself another drink. “We were shown the door because one of the girls complained after Netherton took her upstairs. He was furious and said she lacked training. He said a scullery maid at the Velvet House could have warmed him better.”

Darius nodded. “What was the girl’s complaint? Did you hear?”

“No, but it was clear that the madam of the house took the girl’s side of it without hesitation. Apparently, he—marked her in some way.”

“Damn.”

“In the carriage, he said that a little rough play was nothing. He said that the rules of common men didn’t apply to him. He rattled off a few clubs or houses that catered to it in London and I—I just agreed with him as if I had any idea of what he was talking about.”

Darius pulled a notebook from his inside pocket. “Write them down. Any reference he made.”

Pughes froze. “I . . .”

“Here, I’ll make it easy for you.” Darius located a pen and ink and set them down on the desk. “The Velvet House. And then you said he rattled off a few clubs or houses that catered to him in London. Write, Harold. Restore my faith in you.”

Harold took up the pen with a growl and then bent over the paper. His scrawl was measured by his temper but Darius counted each line a triumph.

There’s the trail. Somewhere in that list, I’ll find another madam who’s had enough of him and secure proof of his depravity so strong that Netherton will do anything to keep it hidden. Hell, he may have done her a favor by spreading a few lies about his wife preferring the countryside. If an annulment is possible, it might make it easier if Lady Netherton is beyond the reach of the gossips’ claws for their next feast.

Pughes finished and set the pen down in disgust.

Darius grabbed up the paper quickly, unwilling to wrestle the man for it if he changed his mind. He folded it and put it in inside his vest without looking at it. “Thank you, Harold. I’m sure you’ll understand if I don’t linger for your delightful company.”

“Wait! You said you would tell me the truth of your circumstances! If you’ve a path to wealth, you promised to share it!”

Darius shook his head. “I said I would let you ask. I never said I’d answer. But trust me on this, since I’ve proven that of all men in your acquaintance, I always keep my word—breathe one word of this, Harold, and I’ll make sure Netherton knows what a slick squirrel you are and how quickly you betrayed him on the slight promise of a bit of gossip and a show of coin.”

“You heartless bastard!” Pughes hissed. “You’re not going to get the better of me. I’ll say nothing to Netherton but that won’t keep me from reminding anyone I know with any influence at the university that you have the breeding of a chimney sweep. Let’s see how far you rise, Thorne! Let’s see who secures a teaching post at a prestigious college or earns honors for their research! For I’ll be damned if you’ll get beyond tutoring village idiots in the Highlands if I have anything to say about it!”

Darius took a step back. “Do what your conscience dictates, Mr. Pughes.” He bowed formally to the sputtering red-faced man. “And I’ll follow the dictates of mine.”

Darius left without looking back and let out a long breath.

He’s a blowhard but I think I might have just traded in my academic future if he makes good on his threats.

Oh well. A hollow sacrifice since there wasn’t much of a chance in any case. . . .

And she is worth any sacrifice.

***

The rest of his outing went quickly. He stopped at Craig & Cavendish to sell three more of his stones to finance his plans and pick up a few things. Once again, he marveled at the value and remarkable returns he was able to easily secure for the gems.

Let’s pray my luck holds as well in London.

The ride back to the village closest to his home was relatively smooth, although they had to stop twice to clear the mud from the wheels, and by the time they reached the constable, Darius feared he looked a bit more rustic than usual, with mud on his coat and even in his hair.

“Mr. Thorne!” The constable greeted him as the carriage pulled up outside the man’s offices. “I was off to home, but if you needed anything . . .”

“Just a word, Mr. Pritchard. I won’t keep you long from your dinner table,” Darius said, climbing down to converse with the man.

“No trouble, I hope! We see you rarely enough but my wife is always pleased to hear of you, sir.” The constable patted his broad middle, his smile genuinely warm. “She’s certain you’ll expire so isolated out there and has announced a grand plan to turn matchmaker on your behalf!”

Darius allowed his horror at the notion to play on his features, eliciting a laugh from his good acquaintance. “God, no! Tell her my health is sound but I’ll move to Iceland before I’d play along. Now is—not a good time, Mr. Pritchard.”

“It never is,” Mr. Pritchard agreed, shaking his head. “I’ll do my best to deter her, sir. But it’s like asking the tide not to come in! They do have their schemes! But what was it you wished to speak to me about?”

“I just wanted to mention that if anyone has lost a horse, I’ve just come on one in my garden. A dark-colored thing but apparently happy to be warm in our stables. He’s terribly lame and no good for riding, I fear.”

“Shall I come to fetch him for you?”

“No,” Darius said, keeping his tone casual. “Hamish is working on his recovery and I’m putting out notices to find the owner. Probably just someone’s lost pet the way he eats, but if someone asked, you’d know where to inquire.”

“You’re a good man to take him in! Winter oats aren’t cheap!” Pritchard said.

“It’s the least I could do.” Darius leaned forward, lowering his voice. “Hamish is falling in love with the beast, I fear. So if you would, do me the favor of making it clear that I’d be willing to buy the stallion if the owner comes forward and might be interested. MacQueen’s got a soft heart for all his noise and I’d love to gift him with the animal.”

Mr. Pritchard shook his head in amazement. “You’re too kind!”

Darius shrugged. “If it spares the creature a painful long walk back to where he came from, saves his owner the cost of his appetite, and makes my driver growl a bit less, I can’t see that it’s not an easy choice to make.” Darius held out a folded slip of paper. “Here’s a copy of my consent to allow Hamish to negotiate a cash price on my behalf if it comes up.”

“That’s well and proper, sir.” Mr. Pritchard took the document. “But wouldn’t you rather handle the matter yourself and limit the expense?”

“I’m to London on business and I just didn’t want to leave any loose ends.”

“You are a wise man, Mr. Thorne. No worries. If anyone reports a horse missing, we’ll see if your man has him. And in the meantime, I’ll just keep this on file.”

“Thank you, Mr. Pritchard.” Darius held out his hand and shook the constable’s hand to end the matter. “Enjoy your dinner.”

“And you yours,” the constable said with a wave, stepping back as Darius climbed up into his carriage. “Ah, the quiet of a bachelor’s life!”

“Good day,” Darius hailed him before closing the door and signaling Hamish to pull away.

It was risky to bring Samson into it, but riskier to leave without covering his tracks. With Isabel safely hiding in the house, there was no need to keep anyone from his doorstep if they inquired after the stallion. Lying would draw only more attention. This way, if one of Netherton’s agents did show up to ask, Darius would have seen to it that there’d be no grounds for accusations of thievery or demands to search further. He imagined that they would ask questions as to whether anyone had seen Isabel but would have no valid excuse to physically search the property, and English law would prevent the trespass. And now there was even a remote chance of buying the horse to secure him for Isabel’s happiness.

He decided to say nothing of the matter to Isabel, for fear of reminding her just how close a pursuit could be. One glance at Harold’s list had been enough to send his own fears careening.

It was a short list.

Five names of obscure establishments in London with no addresses.

Ridiculous.

Impossible.

Her future rests on what I can uncover behind these five doors.

Hell, that’s if I can find them. . . .

Darius closed his eyes, summoning the strength he would need for yet another headlong journey to London. He’d just begun to feel like himself again, and the lure of simply staying in Isabel’s arms and shutting the world out was no fleeting temptation.

***

“Were you successful?” she asked.

He nodded. “Your husband has returned to London. Unfortunately, that’s where the trail leads if I’m to get any proof of his misconduct. I was able to get a few leads, Isabel, but I don’t want you to lose heart. I’m going to dedicate every waking minute to figuring out a way to prove his depravity and cruelty. If I’m successful, the last thing he’ll want is a public divorce, and he’ll consent to a quiet annulment to avoid the scandal.”