The Viscount's Revenge (The Royal Ambition Series Book 4) (12 page)

“Not yet, my pretty,” said the Runner, taking a sip from the glass of wine that Lord Hawksborough had handed him. “And that’s odd,” he went on, “for I thought I knew every kiddy on the High Toby lay. I thinks this is the work o’ some lucky amateurs.

“Think, begging your lordship’s permission, I’ll take a journey down to that Hember Cross and sniff around.”

Amanda sat down suddenly.

“Yes, Miss Colby,” said Mr. Townsend, staring at her from under the sort of combined eaves of his flaxen wig and his large hat, “everyone who’s anyone will tell you Townsend of Bow Street is the best. Two young noblemen came up to me one day near the palace, and one of these here sprigs says to the other, ‘I will introduce you to old Townsend, I know him well. Come here, Townsend!’ says he, with great hauteur, at the same time taking a pinch of snuff. ‘I wish to ascertain a fact; but ’pon my honour, I do not intend to distress your feelings. In the early part of your life were you not a coal heaver?’ ‘Yes, my lord,’ I answers, ‘it is very true,’ says I. ‘But let me tell your lordship, if
you
had been reared up as a coal heaver, you would have remained a coal heaver up to the present hour.’”

“Very well, Townsend,” said Lord Hawksborough, ignoring this tale, “you may go to Hember Cross with my blessing.”

The Runner tossed off the rest of his wine and cast the viscount a sly look. “Very good wine, thank ’ee, my lord. Minds me of when I met the Duke of Clarence in St. James’s Park. I told him, ‘I am just come from your royal brother, who gave me two bottles of the best wine. ‘Well,’ says the duke, ‘come and see me, Townsend, and I promise to give you as good a bottle as my brother York.’”

The Runner looked hopefully at Lord Hawksborough, who rang the bell. “Hughes,” he said to the butler. “Please see that Mr. Townsend is given a few bottles of burgundy.”

Much gratified and with many promises to “get the villains,” the Runner took his leave.

“Come near the fire,” said Lord Hawksborough, looking anxiously at Amanda. “You look cold and frightened. You must not let old Townsend frighten you. He is a great bag of wind. He has a reputation of being successful as a thief-taker, but I sometimes fear he is a bit of an imposter.”

“Do you hate those highwaymen so very much?” asked Amanda in a low voice.

“My dear Miss Colby, I simply want legal vengeance. I do not wish to strangle them with my bare hands myself. I want them sentenced at the Old Bailey and then dancing on the end of a rope.”

Amanda’s hand flew to her throat. “Perhaps they were very hungry and had no money.”

“Robbing honest citizens is a crime, Miss Amanda. Let us talk of more pleasant things. Did you enjoy your journey around the sights of London?”

“Oh, yes. Thank you,” said Amanda, determined to banish her fears for the moment.

“I hope to be able to entertain you a little this week, Miss Amanda, before I take my leave. Do sit down.”

“Take your leave?” echoed Amanda faintly. “Where? Why?”

“I have certain business to conduct for the government of a delicate nature which involves travelling abroad.”

“How long will you be gone?”

“A month or two. Do not look so stricken. You feel abandoned by your brother and now by me. But you will find my mother’s bark is worse than her bite and she will set herself to entertain you royally. She has agreed to your allowance. As for Susan…” He frowned for a moment, turning his wineglass in his long fingers. “I am worried about Susan. She is a difficult child. She misses our father very much. He died when she was ten years old. Perhaps you might make an effort, Miss Colby, to find why she is so… er… prickly. You will do that for me?”

He smiled at her, a blinding smile, and Amanda felt she would do anything for him.

“I shall miss you,” she said, her gold-tipped lashes veiling her eyes.

“Will you?” he teased. “How much, I wonder. Desperately? Passionately?”

“My lord—”

“I know, I should not speak so. I am an old bachelor and about to be an old married man.”

“When? When will you be married?”

“I do not know, my elf. This year.”

“You must be very much in love,” said Amanda shyly.

There was a silence and she looked up at him quickly. His eyes were hooded. He sat very still, looking at the dregs of his wine.

“I admire and respect Lady Mary,” he said at last.

“Is that enough?”

“You are impertinent, Miss Colby.”

“I am sorry, my lord. I do not know much of the world. Perhaps I read too many romances. I had always hoped to marry for love.”

“Then you may be one of the lucky ones.” He sighed. “I had dinner with Lord Byron at Kinnaird’s. He is to marry Miss Millbanke next month, you know, but I do not think the attachment is very romantic. Not what one would expect of a poet anyway. Kean was there—the famous actor. He is a marvellous raconteur.

“He told us that at Stroud in Gloucestershire, in
one
single night’s performance, he acted Shylock, danced on the tightrope, sang a song called ‘The Storm,’ sparred with Mendoza, and acted Three-Fingered Jack. He said that one other night he forgot his part, and recited Milton’s
Allegro
instead, without the audience appearing to notice the difference. Then he gave us imitations of Incledon, Kemble, Sinclair, and Master Betty, which were very fine. He said he could only act his part properly when acting with a pretty woman. I thought Byron would be encouraged to betray some warmth of feeling and talk about his love, but he never mentioned Miss Millbanke’s name to us once.”

“Is there such a thing as love?” asked Amanda boldly. “Or is it only in poems and books?”

“I think I am just becoming aware that such a thing might exist,” he said with a wicked glint in his eye.

“Of course,” said Amanda nervously. “Lady Mary is a very beautiful woman.”

“And she is not here. But you are.”

“My lord, you are flirting again. And let me tell you that your sister accompanied us today in order, as she put it, ‘to protect Lady Mary’s property.’”

“The devil she did!”

“I was very flattered,” said Amanda primly. “I am not in the way of being considered a
femme fatale.
”

“You will be,” he said dryly. “I do not often behave so badly. If you set up in my respectable bosom this compulsion to flirt, I shudder to think of the effect you will have on less staid men.”

“You do not look staid. You look… devilish.”

“I preferred your earlier compliments, Miss Colby. I study my legs in the looking glass every day now and am become as vain of them as Mr. Romeo Coates is of his.”

Amanda suddenly felt painfully shy. “Where is your mother, Mrs. Fitzgerald?” she asked.

“About the town with your aunt, making calls.”

“And what do you do this evening, my lord?”

“I shall go to Watier’s and gamble with the Pinks of the Ton. Why did you turn so pale when you saw Mr. Townsend?” he asked abruptly.

Oh, the jewels, thought Amanda wretchedly. Always the jewels! Oh, that she and Richard had never done such a thing. She hesitated, deciding at last to tell him the truth and throw herself on his mercy, deciding that she could not bear this great burden of guilt any longer.

“I think it was because he smells of the gallows,” said the viscount, answering for her. “You must not be so softhearted, Miss Amanda. Such low villains are not worth your pity.”

“What if… if they came to you and confessed?”

“They would need to be tried by court of law.”

“Even if they were truly repentant?”

“This is hypothetical. Any men who will rob defenceless women and old servants do not know the words remorse or pity.”

“Oh,” said Amanda dismally, her courage failing her.

“Do not look so sad. You think these low creatures are like yourself, with human feelings of compassion and conscience.

“Let me assure you, they are lower than animals! Now, to more pleasant things. I shall have a chance to dance with you once more. We have been invited to a ball at the Bartons’ on Friday. Lord and Lady Barton are young and amusing. We have told them of your presence and you are now included in the invitation. Susan will no doubt find you something to wear. Most of society has gone to the country, but it will be a good opportunity for you and Susan to become accustomed to the ways of the world. And I have further intelligence to make your green eyes shine.”

“Which is…?”

“Richard Colby will be at the ball and will stay with you for the weekend before he returns again to Oxford.”

“How wonderful!” said Amanda, although somehow the prospect of seeing Richard again did not fill her with any of the joy she felt it should.

“And now, if you will excuse me, Miss Amanda…”

He rose to his feet and Amanda rose hurriedly as well. He came to stand over her, so near her that she could feel the heat of his body.

He bent and raised her hand to his lips, turning it over at the last moment and pressing his lips to her wrist. Amanda felt a tingling sensation rushing up her arm and an aching sensation in the pit of her stomach. He raised his eyes suddenly and looked down at her, wary and slightly surprised.

“Until later,” he said softly. And then he was gone.

Amanda raised the wrist he had kissed and held it against her cheek. Then she became aware of what she was doing and abruptly dropped her arm, and, hearing the sound of her aunt’s voice in the hall below, ran lightly down the stairs to meet her.

It transpired that both Susan and Amanda were to wear white for their first London ball, a white ball gown of Susan’s being tucked and altered and shortened to fit Amanda.

Amanda was immensely pleased with her appearance for the first time in her life. If a man of the world like Lord Hawksborough found her attractive, then surely she must have a certain charm of which her aunt and her brother were completely unaware.

She had only had time to exchange a few words with Richard, who arrived from Oxford just in time to change into his evening dress.

Amanda nervously entered the Red Drawing Room wearing a ball gown of the thinnest white sarenet and white crêpe. White silk roses had been threaded into her carefully arranged hair, and she wore a new pair of white kid gloves.

Susan was in white silk, her dress being in the same fashionable high-waisted style as Amanda’s. She wore red silk roses in her black hair, which had been dressed in an elaborate Grecian coiffure which added to her height and gave her tall figure a certain distinction.

“By George!” muttered Richard. “The prickly Miss Fitzgerald is in looks. I like a girl with character.”

“I thought you liked them soft and feminine,” teased Amanda.

“I think Miss Fitzgerald could be very feminine, given a chance,” said Richard, looking at Susan with a speculative gleam in his eye.

Amanda followed his gaze and had to admit that at least Susan Fitzgerald for once looked relaxed and happy.

Mrs. Fitzgerald was soon to put an end to that.

Amanda, Richard, and Aunt Matilda were waiting for Lord Hawksborough to join them.

Aunt Matilda was nervous, her nose very pink and her hands constantly plucking at the folds of a new velvet gown. Amanda found her heart beating quickly, and her eyes kept sliding to the doors, waiting for the viscount to arrive. She had not seen him at all since that day in the library. She had told Richard about Townsend, the thief-taker, but Richard had adopted a man-about-town worldly air and had drawled that he had heard of the fellow, and it was said that Townsend was only capable of catching a thief who picked a pocket under his nose.

His manner irritated Amanda no end. Furthermore, Richard had not commented on her appearance and she still craved the admiration and approval of her twin.

“I met Liza Barrington this afternoon,” said Mrs. Fitzgerald in her loud voice. “You know her daughter, Betty, Susan. She was at the seminary with you. Such a pretty little minx of a thing, and Liza has high hopes of marrying her off to a title. It is a pity you do not have the same roguish charm as Betty Barrington, Susan. ’Tis monstrous unfair that I should have such a plain daughter to puff off to the world.”

Susan glared at the floor and hunched her shoulders.

“I think Susan looks very fine,” said Amanda furiously. “Your own daughter, ma’am—!”

“Amanda. Respect your betters!” cried Aunt Matilda, her nose even pinker with distress.

Amanda bit her lip. Richard walked forward and took Susan’s hand in his. She tried to snatch it away but he held it in a firm grip.

“You cannot speak for the gentlemen, Mrs. Fitzgerald,” he said with a welcome return to his customary frank and open manner, “but
I
speak for the gentlemen, and I assure you Miss Susan has a certain air of character and distinction which is more attractive than the vapid simperings of many empty-headed debutantes.”