A Gentleman's Honor (18 page)

Only one topic held the power to distract him; he turned his mind to scripting their next step.

Alicia reached home in the small hours, her wits in disarray. Her body…felt glorious. The former was a direct consequence of the latter.

She now understood something she never had before—why ladies allowed themselves to be seduced. If that evening’s sample of what a noble lover could produce was in any way indicative, it was a wonder any lady remained a virgin by choice.

A gloating whisper in her brain suggested only those ignorant of the possibilities did.

Leaving her cloak in Jenkins’s arms, leaving him and Maggs to lock up the house, she headed for the stairs.

Adriana joined her, glanced at her face. “What’s wrong?”

Alicia looked briefly her way. Wondered that her experience hadn’t left some tangible evidence in her face. She felt different from her head to her toes, yet no one in the ballroom, whence they’d eventually returned, had seemed to notice. Apparently not even her perceptive sister could see the change in her. “Nothing.”

Looking forward, she remembered the two texts on lovemaking she’d consulted. Remembered their shortcomings. “I wonder if there are
advanced
manuals?”

She’d mumbled—grumbled—the comment aloud. Adriana, passing on her way to her bedchamber, cast her a puzzled look. “What was that?”

She tightened her lips. “Never mind.”

Opening the door to her bedchamber, the one nearest the stairhead, she nodded a good night to Adriana and went in.

Closing the door, she stood for a moment staring into space, then she moved into the room, dropping her reticule on the dressing table, quickly unpinning her hair. She undressed and donned her nightgown—then couldn’t remember doing it. Finding herself ready for bed, standing beside the bed, she climbed in and lay down. Drew the sheet and coverlet over her.

Lay flat on her back and stared at the canopy.

Every nerve she possessed was still humming; warm pleasure still coursed her veins. Yet there was an expectation, an underlying anticipation that the evening’s small step had done nothing to assuage.

Instead, that nebulous but definite anticipation had grown.

She didn’t truly know what it was, could only guess for she’d never felt it before. But then she’d never indulged as she had that evening, never let any man touch her intimately at all, let alone as he had.

And now …having learned what she’d wanted to know, she found herself facing an even bigger unknown. An even more frightening unknown.

Knowledge, it seemed, was a two-edged sword.

By the next morning, she’d talked herself around. Her analysis of her situation, her decision on her best way forward, had been right; there was nothing in the events of the past evening sufficient to deflect her from her path.

It would, however, clearly behoove her to make a serious effort to push Torrington’s investigation along. The investigation provided his major excuse to spend time in her company, seducing her, being kind to her brothers, helping her with Adriana…

Pushing aside such thoughts, she rose from the breakfast table and went in search of the lists she’d made.

Tony sat comfortably slumped in a leather armchair in the library of Hendon House. Idly swirling a glass of brandy, he recited the story of Ruskin’s death, the subsequent revelations, and the ongoing investigation to Jack—otherwise Jonathon, Lord Hendon—who was similiarly comfortable in another chair, and his strikingly beautiful wife Kit, presently perched at Jack’s elbow.

“So,” he concluded, “Ruskin’s been selling information on ships and dates to someone, who presumably used the information for their own gain—they certainly paid Ruskin well for it. However, we have no idea of the precise nature of the information Ruskin passed, so we don’t know how it might have been used—”

“And therefore can’t trace said user of same.” Jack met his gaze, his expression hard.

“That”—Tony saluted him with his glass—“sums it up nicely.”

Kit straightened. “Well, Jack will just have to help you learn what was important about those ships, but meanwhile, what about this widow? What was her name?”

Tony met Kit’s violet gaze. The first time he’d met her, he’d thought she was a boy—understandable given he was half-dead courtesy of a brig full of smugglers, and she’d been traipsing about in breeches at the time. Now her glorious red hair was longer, elegantly cut to frame her piquant face. Her figure, previously slender and slim, had filled out a trifle, but that only made it all the more womanly. Two children had done little to curb her fire; she was one of the most disconcertingly active women Tony knew.

He was supremely thankful she was Jack’s wife. “The widow isn’t involved, other than by the unfortunate act of stumbling on Ruskin’s body.”

Kit frowned. “Why, then, are you being so careful not to use her name? You’ve mentioned her at least six times, but always as ‘the widow.’”

Jack had turned to study his wife; now he turned, and studied Tony. “She’s right. What going on with this widow?”

“Nothing.” Tony sat forward, then froze. To Jack and Kit, who knew him well, both his tone and that movement had betrayed him. “Oh, all right.” He slumped back. “The widow is Mrs. Alicia Carrington, and she is, as you’ve guessed, of more than passable charms, and…”

When he didn’t go on, Jack pointedly prompted, “
And
…?”

Kit was grinning.

Tony grimaced at them both. “And it’s possible, perhaps, that…” He waved the question aside. “That’s beside the point. The first thing”—he fixed Kit with a narrow-eyed look—“indeed, the
only
thing I need from you both is help with this shipping business. We need to make some headway on how the ships were involved.”

Kit continued grinning. “And later?”

She wasn’t going to give up. Tony closed his eyes. “And later you can dance at my wedding.” Opening his eyes, he glared at her. “Good enough?”

She beamed. “Excellent.” She looked at Jack. “Now what could be the crucial
thing
about those ships?”

Jack studied the list Tony had given him. “If I had information like this…”He looked up, met Tony’s gaze. “These are all merchant ships. If the dates are convoy dates, the dates on which these ships were due to join convoys to come up the Channel, or alternatively the dates on which they left the protection of the convoy to turn aside to their respective home ports…”

“You think the information might have been used to take the ships?”

“As prizes?” Jack thought, then grimaced. “That’s one possibility. Another is deliberate sinking to lay hands on the insurance—I won’t tell you how frequent that is. Wrecking is another option.”

Tony pointed at the list. “All those ships are still registered.” That was the first thing he’d checked.

“That makes sinking or wrecking unlikely.” Jack looked again at the list. “The next thing to determine is who owns these vessels and from where they were coming.”

“Can you do that?”

“Easily.” Jack looked at Tony. “It’ll take a few days.”

“Is there anything else we can pursue in the meantime?”

Jack pulled a face. “I can ask, quietly, as to whether there’s anything noteworthy about one particular ship, and perhaps put out feelers about a few others, but until we know something more specific…” He grimaced. “We don’t want to tip our quarry the wink.”

“Indeed not. Anything I can do?”

Jack shook his head. “Lloyd’s Coffee House is the obvious place to ask, but it’s a closed group. I’m one of them, so I can ask nosy questions, but the instant you walk in…”He looked at Tony. “You’d have to make it official to get any word out of anyone there.”

Tony grimaced, then drained his glass. “Very well, I’ll leave it to you.”

Kit rose in a rustle of skirts. “I’ll tell Minchin you’ll stay to luncheon.”

“Ah—no.” With a charming smile, Tony stood. “Much as I would love to grace any board presided over by your fair self, I’ve other engagements I must keep.”

Taking Kit’s hand, he bowed with consummate grace.

As he straightened, she arched a brow at him. “I must be sure to make Mrs. Carrington’s acquaintance.”

He grinned and tapped her nose. “I’ll warn her to keep a weather eye out for you.”

Coming up behind Kit, Jack wrapped his arms around her waist. “Well, you’ve one night’s grace—we’re staying in tonight.”

Kit leaned back against her husband’s broad chest. “It was a wrench to part from the boys. It’s the first time we’ve left them.”

Tony noted her misty-eyed expression as she thought of her two sons. Last time he’d seen them, they were robust and active—the sort to run their keepers ragged.

Jack snorted and glanced down at her face. “God knows, by the time we get home, they’ll have exhausted everyone and be lording it over all and sundry.”

Tony saw the pride in Jack’s face, heard it in his voice. He smiled, kissed Kit’s hand, saluted Jack, and left them.

“W
E FOUND A CLUE!
W
E FOUND A CLUE!”
M
ATTHEW
rushed into the parlor and flung himself joyously into Alicia’s arms.

“Well, we think it’s a clue,” David temporized, following Matthew in.

“We had a wonderful time!” Harry’s eyes were shining as he plonked himself down on the chaise beside Alicia.

“Are there any crumpets left?”

“Of course.” Smiling, Alicia hugged Matthew, relieved as well as pleased. Five minutes of studying Tony’s lists that morning had convinced her that she, personally, had no hope of making any sense of them. Adriana, too, had had no idea, but had suggested Alicia ask Jenkins and the boys, pointing out that their frequent excursions often took them to the docks.

She’d harbored reservations over the wisdom of such a course, but Jenkins had welcomed the challenge for himself and his charges. The boys, naturally, had been thrilled to assist Tony in any way. Soothing her sisterly concern by sending Maggs with them, she’d consented to an afternoon excursion.

Releasing Matthew, she signaled Adriana, who rose and tugged the bellpull. A moment later, Maggs and Jenkins both looked in. Alicia beckoned. “Come and tell us your news, but first we need to order tea to celebrate.”

She wasn’t sure how much credence to place in her brothers’ “clue,” but they undoubtedly deserved a reward for doing as she’d asked and looking.

Matthew and Harry told her which wharves they’d visited, glibly naming various seagoing vessels and their likely destinations. Then Maggs opened the door, Jenkins carried in the tea tray, and everyone settled to hear the news. Both Matthew and Harry were busy with their crumpets, today dripping with honey; by unspoken consensus, everyone looked at David.

He asked for the list; Jenkins handed it over. David smoothed the sheet. “There are thirty-five ships listed, and for many, there’s nothing odd or unusual to report.” He glanced at Alicia. “We asked lots of stevedores, and we found at least one who could tell us about each of these ships. So we know that for nineteen of them nothing odd has happened, nothing anyone knows to tell or talk about.
But
.” He paused, making the most of the dramatic moment, checking to see that both his sisters had recognized its import. “We learned that the other sixteen ships were all lost—on or around those dates!”

David’s eyes gleamed as he glanced from Alicia’s face to Adriana’s; hardly surprising, they were both agog.

“Sunk?” Alicia asked. “All sixteen were sunk?”

“No!” Harry’s tone indicated she’d missed the whole point. “Taken as prizes during the war!”

“Prizes?” Puzzled, she looked to Jenkins.

He nodded. “During all wars, merchantmen are targeted by opposing navies. It’s a customary tactic to deny the country one is at war with vital supplies. Even a shortage of, for instance, cabbages, could cause internal civil unrest and pressure an enemy’s government. It’s a very old tactic indeed.”

Alicia tried to put the information into perspective. “So you’re saying that sixteen ships”—she reached for the list David held; little ‘P’s had been written in the margin be- side nearly half the names—“these sixteen ships were taken as prizes of war by…” She looked up. “By whom?”

“That we didn’t learn,” Maggs replied. “But those we asked thought it was most likely foreign privateers, or the French or Spanish navies.” He nodded to the boys. “Your brothers hit the nail on the head over who to ask—it was their idea to approach the navvies. They unload the cargoes, so they remember the ships they’ve been hired to unload that don’t come in, because then they don’t get paid.”

Alicia sat and absorbed all they’d told her while they consumed their tea and crumpets. When, finished, the boys eyed her hopefully, she smiled. “Very well. You’ve done an excellent job, and doubtless learned a great deal this afternoon, so you’re excused from lessons for the rest of the day.”

“Yayyyy!”

“Can we go and play in the park?”

She glanced out; it was still light, but night would soon start falling.

“I’ll take ’em if you like, ma’am.” Maggs rose. “Just for half an hour or so—let ’em run the fidgets out.”

She smiled at him. “Thank you, Maggs.” Then she looked at her brothers. “If you promise to attend Maggs, you may go.”

With a chorus of assurances, they jumped up, jostling as they raced from the room. With an understanding grin, Maggs followed.

Alicia watched him go. She owed Torrington a debt for sending him. Maggs was as careful of her brothers as she could wish.

Jenkins cleared the tea things and removed the tray; Adriana returned to her sketching. Alicia sat with the list in her hand, and wished Tony—Torrington—was there.

That evening, Alicia had elected to attend Lady Carmichael’s ball. Thus advised by Maggs, Tony saw no reason to arrive early; better to let the first rush ebb before making his way up the Carmichaels’ stairs.

He’d spent the best part of his afternoon with Mr. King, learning more about Alicia, specifically about her finances. As he’d suspected, she had had a contract with King, but to his surprise, the man hadn’t jumped at his offer to buy out said contract.

A degree of verbal fencing had ensued, until both he and King had agreed to show their hands. Once he’d made the nature of his interest clear, King had been much more accommodating; he’d agreed to burn Alicia’s contract in Tony’s presence in return for a bank draft for the appropriate amount. As King’s goal was to ensure that no one, not even he, could hold the contract over Alicia’s head, and as
his
only aim was to lift the financial burden from her shoulders, he’d been happy to agree.

The amount he’d paid had been another revelation. He knew how much it cost to run his various houses and to meet his mother’s milliners’ and dressmakers’ bills; how Alicia was managing on the frugal sum she’d borrowed was beyond his comprehension. Her gowns alone would cost more.

Yet King had assured him Alicia was not in debt to anyone else. Understanding what had occasioned his query, he’d added that he, too, had thought the amount far too small, but when recently he’d dined with them, he’d detected not the slightest frugality or lack.

Tony now understood that the face the Carrington household presented to the world was a facade—a superbly crafted one with no cracks. Behind the facade, however…he’d recalled the lack of servants and the simple but hearty fare Maggs had described.

Like crumpets and jam for tea.

Alicia’s payment to King, capital plus interest, would fall due in July. Her life would have changed dramatically by then, but if she recalled the debt and inquired, as both he and King fully expected she would, King had agreed to simply say that an anonymous benefactor had paid the sum. She would guess it was he; he was looking forward to her attempts to make him admit it.

Lips curving as he entered Lady Carmichael’s ballroom, Tony inwardly basked in a self-satisfied glow.

He made his bow to her ladyship, then joined the throng. The ball was in full swing, the ballroom a collage of silks and satins of every hue swirling about the black splashes of gentlemen’s evening coats. He looked around, expecting to locate Adriana’s court somewhere along the side of the room.

Instead, he saw Geoffrey Manningham, shoulders propped against the wall, his gaze, distinctly black, fixed on him.

Instincts pricking, he strolled the short distance to Geoffrey’s side. Met his scowl with a questioning frown.

“Where are they?” Geoffrey growled. “Do you know?”

Tony blinked. Satisfaction fled. He turned to survey the room, but didn’t see the crowd. “My information was that they’d be here.”

“You can take it from me they aren’t.”

The tension in Geoffrey’s voice, in his stance, had effectively communicated itself to him. Tony’s mind raced; he tried to imagine what might have happened. Could Maggs have been wrong? He looked at Geoffrey. “How did you know they’d be here?”

Geoffrey looked at him as if that was a supremely silly question. “Adriana told me, of course.”

That raised the stakes. The sisters had expected to be there, and were now seriously late.

A contained commotion by the door drew their attention. A footman was whispering urgently to the butler, proffering a note. The butler took it, straightened magisterially, then turned and surveyed the guests.

His gaze stopped on Tony.

The butler swept forward, not running, yet as fast as one such as he might go. He bowed before Tony. “My lord, this message was just delivered by one of your lordship’s footmen. I understand the matter is urgent.”

Tony lifted the folded note from the salver. “Thank you.”

Flicking it open, he rapidly scanned the contents, then glanced at the butler. “Please summon my carriage immediately.”

The butler bowed. “Of course, my lord.” He withdrew.

Tony opened the note again, held it so Geoffrey, looking over his shoulder, could read it, too.

The writing was a feminine scrawl, the hand holding the pen clearly agitated. Adriana had been too overset even to bother with any salutation.

My lord, I don’t know who else might help us and Maggs assures me this is the right thing to do. Just as we were about to set out for the Carmichaels’, officers from the Watch arrived, along with a Bow Street Runner. They’ve taken Alicia away.

The writing broke off; a blob of ink was smeared across the page. Then Adriana continued:
Please help! We don’t know what to do.

She’d signed it simply Adriana.

Geoffrey swore. “What the devil’s going on?”

Tony stuffed the note into his pocket. “I’ve no idea.” He glanced at Geoffrey. “Coming?”

Geoffrey sent him a grim look. “As if you need ask.”

They went quickly down the stairs and reached the portico just as Tony’s town carriage rattled up.

Tony reached for the door, opened it, and waved Geoffrey in. “Waverton Street! As fast as you can.” With that, he followed Geoffrey, slamming the door behind him.

His coachman took him at his word. They rocketed along the streets, swinging about corners at a criminal pace. In five minutes, the coach was slowing; it lurched to a halt outside Alicia’s front door.

Tony and Geoffrey were on the pavement before the carriage stopped rocking. Maggs opened the front door to Tony’s peremptory knock.

“What’s going on?” Tony shot at him.

“Buggered if I know,” Maggs growled back. “Strangest bit of work I’ve ever seen. Nice thing it is when a lady getting ready to go to a ball is set on in her own front hall. What’s the world coming to, I ask you?”

“Indeed. Where’s Adriana—and do the boys know about this?”

“They’re all in the parlor. Couldn’t keep the boys from hearing—there was a right to-do. Mrs. Carrington gave the blighters what for, but they weren’t about to go away, nor yet let her go out and wait until later. I’m thinking she went with them just to get them out of the house, what with the boys and Miss Adriana being so upset.”

Tony’s face hardened. He led the way to the parlor. The instant he opened the door, four pairs of eyes fixed on him.

A second later, Matthew flung himself at him, arms clutching limpetlike about his waist. “You’ll get her back, won’t you?”

The words, not entirely steady, were muffled by Tony’s coat.

David and Harry were only steps behind. Harry caught Tony’s arm and simply clung, the same question in his upturned face. David, older, tugged at Tony’s sleeve. When Tony looked at him, he swallowed and met his gaze. “They’ve made some mistake. Alicia would never do anything wrong.”

Tony smiled. “Of course not.” Putting a hand on Matthew’s head, he tousled his soft hair; laying an arm around Harry’s shoulders, he hugged him, then urged the trio back into the room. “I’ll go straightaway and bring her back. But first…”

One glance at Adriana’s white face told him she was as upset as her brothers, but having to comfort the boys and contain their panic had forced her to master her own. Despite the shock, despite the way her fingers clutched and twisted, she was lucid, not hysterical.

Her eyes were wider than he’d ever seen them. “They said they were taking her to the local Watch House.”

“South of Curzon Street, it is,” Maggs put in.

Tony nodded. Urging the boys ahead of him, he made his way deeper into the room. Geoffrey followed on his heels. While Tony sat in the armchair, the boys scrambling to perch close on the padded arms, Geoffrey sat beside Adriana. He took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. She smiled weakly, rather wanly, at him.

“Now,” Tony commanded, “tell me exactly what happened.”

Adriana and the boys all started talking at once; he held up his hand. “Adriana first—listen carefully so you can tell me anything she forgets.”

The boys dutifully settled to listen; Adriana drew a deep breath, then, her voice only occasionally quavering, she described how, just as she and Alicia were about to leave for the ball, a heavy knock on the door had heralded the Watch, accompanied by a Bow Street Runner.

“There were two from the Watch, and the Runner. He was the one in charge. They insisted Alicia had—” She broke off, then dragged in a breath and continued, “That she had killed Ruskin. Stabbed him to death. It was ludicrous!”

“I presume she told them they were fools?”

“Not in those precise words, but of course she denied it.”

“The men wouldn’t believe her,” Matthew said.

Tony smiled at him. “Fools, as I said.”

Matthew nodded and settled back against Tony’s shoulder.

Tony looked at Adriana. She continued, “We tried to reason with them—Alicia even used your name. She told them you were investigating the matter, but they wouldn’t even wait while we sent for you. They were totally certain—absolutely—that Alicia was a…a
murderess
!”

Eyes huge, Adriana looked at him imploringly. “They were very rough men—they won’t hurt her, will they?”

Tony bit back a curse, exchanged a swift glance with Geoffrey, and stood. “I’ll go there now—I’ll bring her back straightaway. Geoffrey will stay and keep you company. If I’m an hour or so, don’t worry.” Resettling his sleeves, he flashed the boys a reassuring smile. “I’ll need to have a word with this Bow Street Runner, and make sure the gentlemen of the Watch don’t make such a silly mistake again.”