Rendezvous (39 page)

“No.” Augusta leaned forward eagerly. “’Tis just that I have decided if I cannot have your love, Harry, I would have your friendship. Your
close
friendship. I want to be a part of your inner circle of companions. The ones with whom you share everything. Do you not understand, my lord?”

“No, I do not understand. You are not making sense.”

“I want to feel as though I belong to your special circle of intimates. Do you not see, my lord? It would be like being part of your real family.”

“Damnation, Augusta, you are talking a lot of emotional nonsense. Hear me well, wife, you are most certainly a part of this family.” He caught hold of her chin, his eyes intent. “And do not ever forget that fact, madam. You are not, however, a trained intelligence agent and I will not have you playing dangerous games the way you did tonight. Is that quite clear?”

“But I did a good job, Harry. Admit it. I brought you some very interesting evidence. Only think, my lord. Someone went to all that trouble just to make us think that the Spider was my brother and has therefore been dead for two whole years. That raises some interesting possibilities, does it not?”

His mouth twisted wryly. “Indeed it does. The most interesting of which is that the Spider is no doubt very much alive and wants everyone to think him dead. Which leads us to the conclusion that he may presently be enjoying a position as an accepted member of Society and wants to continue living his new life. He clearly has a great deal to lose now if the truth about his past should emerge. And that makes him more dangerous than ever.”

Augusta considered that closely. “Yes, I see what you mean.”

“The more I reflect on tonight’s event’s, my dear, the more I believe you had a very close brush with disaster. I have only myself to blame.”

Augusta grew alarmed. She was learning that whenever Harry got that tone in his voice, he usually started issuing orders. “Oh, pray, do not blame yourself, my lord. It was an accident and will most certainly not happen again. The next time I receive a strange note I shall come straight to you with it, I swear.”

He eyed her morosely. “We shall take steps to ensure that you do so, Augusta. You and Meredith are not to leave this house without either myself as an escort or at least two footmen in attendance. I shall choose the servants I wish to accompany you and I shall inform Craddock you are not to go anywhere without them.”

“Very well, my lord.” Augusta heaved a sigh of relief. It was not as bad as it could have been, she told herself. He could have gone so far as forbidding her to leave the house without him. As he was rarely available these days, that would have meant virtual imprisonment for herself and Meredith. She congratulated herself on a narrow escape.

“Do I make myself clear, madam?”

Augusta inclined her head acquiescently, as a dutiful wife should. “Very clear, my lord.”

“And furthermore,” Harry added deliberately, “you are not to go out at night, with or without the footmen, unless I am with you.”

That was too much. Augusta promptly fought back. “Harry, you go too far. I assure you Meredith and I will take an entire brigade of footmen with us at all times if that is your wish, but you cannot confine us to the house every evening.”

“I am sorry, Augusta,” he said, not ungently. “But I will not be able to concentrate on my investigations if I am not assured you are safe at home.”

“Then you can be the one to tell your daughter that she cannot go to Astley’s Amphitheatre tomorrow night,” Augusta announced.

“You were planning to take her to Astley’s?” Harry frowned. “I am not at all certain that would have been a particularly sound choice of entertainment. Astley’s is famous for its silly spectacles and melodrama. Women flying about on horseback and that sort of thing. Not particularly elevating or educational for a young child, do you think?”

“I think,” Augusta said bluntly, “that Meredith will enjoy it immensely.
And so will I
.”

“Well, in that case, I believe I can adjust my schedule to allow me to escort the two of you to Astley’s tomorrow evening,” Harry said smoothly.

Augusta was caught completely off balance by the unexpected capitulation. “You will?”

“Pray do not look so astounded, my dear. As the victor in our duel tonight, I can afford to be generous to the loser.”

“Victor? Who named you the victor?” Augusta grabbed the pillow and began pummeling him unmercifully with it.

Harry’s laughter was husky and liberally laced with masculine passion.

The entertainment at Astley’s was not nearly as dull as Harry had feared. It was not, however, the ladies dashing about on horseback, the music, or the inane melodrama
with its fireworks and singing heroes that held his serious attention. What held Harry’s gaze was the sight of his wife and daughter leaning precariously out of the box to watch the proceedings below.

Augusta had been right about one thing. Meredith was enjoying herself to the hilt. It struck Harry again just how much his overly serious daughter had blossomed during the past few weeks. It was as if she were discovering the pleasures of childhood for the first time.

The sight made him do something he rarely did, and that was to doubt the wisdom of one of his own carefully considered decisions. It occurred to Harry that the strict educational curriculum he had ordained for Meredith during the past few years might have been a bit severe. Perhaps he had not allowed for enough harmless fun and play in the schedule.

Harry watched Meredith gasp with amazement as a young lady in the ring below vaulted over a barrier of several scarves and landed safely on the rump of a galloping pony. It was obvious his daughter was thriving under the new regime, he thought ruefully. He would be lucky indeed if she did not develop aspirations to take a balloon voyage or join Astley’s troop of daring bareback riders.

His gaze shifted to his wife, who was pointing out the villain of the piece to Meredith. The brilliant glow from the huge chandelier suspended over the center of the stage caught the rich highlights in Augusta’s hair. The words she had spoken to him so beseechingly last night rang in his ears.
I want to feel as though I belong
…

He knew she was still struggling with the feeling of not being part of a family like the one she had once known. She was the last of the Northumberland Ballingers and she had been feeling very much alone since her brother’s death. He understood that now.

But how could Augusta not realize just how much a part of his small family she had become? Harry wondered. Surely she saw how Meredith was becoming increasingly
dependent on her. True, the child did not yet seem inclined to call Augusta Mother, but that no longer seemed quite so important to Harry.

Augusta’s tendency to agitate herself because her husband did not get down on his knees and proclaim his everlasting love was ridiculous. A typical example of her overly emotional nature. As far as Harry was concerned he had more than amply demonstrated his affections. And his trust. Harry scowled, thinking of just how indulgent he had been with his new countess.

Any other man who had witnessed a wife climbing back into the house through a window at midnight would have assumed he had just been cuckolded.

Last night Augusta should have been begging for forgiveness and vowing to never again pursue adventure. Instead, she had lost her temper and challenged her husband to a duel.

The woman had been reading too many novels, that was the problem.

I want to have the kind of bond with you that Sally and Peter do
.

Naturally he had excluded her from the investigations, Harry thought. Not only because she lacked experience, which was reason enough, but because he had not wanted her troubled by further indications of her brother’s connection to the case.

Now Harry wondered if he had a right to keep Augusta out of the investigation. Like it or not, she was involved because her brother had apparently been involved. Perhaps the last of the Northumberland Ballingers had a right to know the truth.

Harry listened to the music swell as the performance below came to a conclusion. Horses and actors both took their bows to several rounds of enthusiastic applause.

Meredith talked nonstop in the carriage on the way back to the town house.

“Papa, do you think I could learn to ride a horse the way the lady in pink did?”

“I do not think you would find the skill particularly useful,” Harry said, his eyes flicking to Augusta’s amused face. “One rarely is called upon to ride standing up on top of a horse.”

Meredith frowned at that logic. “I suppose not.” Then she brightened again. “Was it not exciting when the pony rescued the lady?”

“Very.”

“What part did you like best, Papa?”

Harry smiled slowly, his eyes again on Augusta. “The scenery.”

As the carriage came to a halt in front of the town house, Harry touched Augusta’s arm. “Stay a moment, if you please.” He glanced at Meredith. “Go on inside, Meredith. Augusta will be along in a moment.”

“Yes, Papa.” Meredith hopped down from the carriage and started to regale the footman with details of the thrilling performance she had just witnessed.

Augusta gave Harry an inquiring glance. “Yes, my lord?”

He hesitated and then took the plunge. “I am going on to meet Sheldrake at one of my clubs.”

“More investigations, I suppose.”

“Yes. However, the three of us—Sally, Sheldrake, and myself—have arranged to hold a conference much later tonight. We are going to discuss everything we know about the investigation so far and see if we can find some answers. You may join us if you like.”

Augusta’s eyes widened. “Oh, Harry. Truly?”

“You have some rights in this matter, my dear. Perhaps I have been wrong to exclude you.”

“My lord, how can I ever thank you?”

“Well, I—umph.” Harry was taken by surprise as Augusta threw her arms around him.

She hugged him ecstatically even though the door of the
carriage stood wide open and at least one groom and a footman had a full view of the interior.

“What time shall I expect you back here, Harry?”

“Uh, somewhere around three o’clock this morning.” He gently untwined her arms from around his neck, aware that his body was already reacting to the soft, round contours of hers. “Be in the library. We shall take the shortcut through the garden.”

“I will be there.” Her smile was more brilliant than the lights over the stage at Astley’s.

Harry waited until she was safely inside the house and then he signaled his coachman to drive on to the club, where he was to meet Peter. As the vehicle moved off, Harry tried to assure himself that he was doing the right thing by allowing Augusta into the heart of the small group involved in the investigation.

He might be doing the right thing, but he was definitely going against his own better judgment. Harry gazed thoughtfully out the window, aware of a deep sense of unease.

Peter Sheldrake, stylish as always in trousers and an elaborately ruffled shirt, was just coming out of the card room when Harry walked into the club. He was carrying a bottle of claret, which he waved cheerfully at Harry.

“Oh-ho. I see you have survived the evening’s frivolity. Come join me in a glass or two and tell me all about the wondrous sights you must have seen at Astley’s. Took a couple of nephews there once a few years back. It was all I could do to keep them from signing on with the bareback riding troop.”

Harry smiled reluctantly as he followed Peter to a private corner of the room and sat down. “I was concerned I might face a similar problem myself. And it was not just Meredith I feared losing to the stage. I have a suspicion that Augusta was entertaining dreams of glory, too.”

“Well, look at it from her point of view,” Peter said with a mocking grin. “Being the Countess of Graystone probably seems rather dull compared to the notion of performing daring feats of horsemanship in front of a cheering crowd. Think of the applause. Think of the cheers. Think of the gentlemen leering down from the upper boxes.”

Harry grimaced. “Don’t remind me. As it happens, however, Augusta’s life is about to become a bit more exciting.”

“Oh?” Peter took a swallow of claret. “How is that? Are you going to allow her to go about without a fichu to fill in the neckline of her gowns? What a thrill that will be for her.”

Harry shot Peter a brief, quelling glare and wondered glumly if perhaps he had been something of a tyrant about Augusta’s gowns. “We shall see how you feel about the subject of your wife’s choice of necklines after you are married.”

“So we shall.” Peter chuckled.

“What I was going to tell you about Augusta’s exciting new life is that she will be joining you and me and Sally later tonight when we have our meeting.”

Sheldrake sputtered and frantically swallowed claret. He stared at Harry. “Bloody hell. You’re going to allow her to get involved in this thing? Do you think that’s wise, Graystone?”

“Probably not.”

“With everything pointing toward her brother, it’s bound to be painful for her.”

“It’s obvious Ballinger was involved in this mess somehow. But trust me, Sheldrake, when I tell you that there’s no way he could have been the Spider.”

“If you say so.” Peter looked sceptical.

“I do. What we have now are strong indications that someone very much wants us to believe the Spider died two years ago.” Harry quickly ran through a description of the
journal Augusta had found in the lane behind the town house.

“Good God,” Sheldrake breathed. “The journal is real? Not a fake that someone fixed up to trick us?”

“I am certain it is real. I will tell you truthfully, Sheldrake, it gives me a cold chill to think about who may have been watching Augusta in that lane last night.”

“I see what you mean.”

Harry was about to discuss the details of what he had discovered in the journal when he realized that Lovejoy was crossing the room to join them. The man’s green eyes glittered with bored menace.

So many bored and dangerous men floating about London like so much flotsam after the storm of war
, Harry thought.