Anne Barbour (29 page)

Thus, less than a week later, a large, elegant traveling coach wended its way into London, bearing the inhabitants of Winter’s Keep. The coach was followed by a second vehicle, just as large
if not quite so elegant, carrying Timkins, the butler, and Mrs. Jameson, the housekeeper, the only two servants from the Keep to make the journey. They were followed, in turn, by several wagons filled with the provisions deemed necessary by these worthies for a sojourn in the wilds of London.

The house chosen by Mr. Silchester was located in Caroline Street, a quiet cul-de-sac just off Bedford Square. They were greeted at the door by the gentleman himself, spare of face and figure and endowed with a pair of spectacularly bushy eyebrows, who, if he was surprised to note that the Lady Jane’s household had been expanded to include a gentleman previously unknown to him, kept any untoward surmise to himself.

The ladies declared themselves enraptured with the house, which included a small garden between the rear entrance and the stables, and Justin noted with satisfaction that the location of the place was such that it was within a few minutes ride of such locales that might be necessary for him to frequent in his pursuit of his quest.

Justin also noted with approval the small army of footmen hired by Mr. Silchester. Not a one of them was under six feet tall, and they all looked as though they could have wrestled bears. In fact, it was more than likely they had been brought in from the ranks of the pets of the Fancy.

Justin’s first night in the house on Caroline Street was a busy one. His first stop was a call on Charles, who spent the first ten minutes of the visit upbraiding Justin for his visit to Sheffield Court.

“You might at least have told me of your intention,” he said, barely managing to keep his voice low enough to avoid an interruption from one of his staff. “I’ll accept your conviction that St. John is not the man we’re looking for. I never thought that dog would hunt, anyway. But to bolt down there without protection—

“Robbie was on hand,” retorted Justin unrepentantly.

“Yes, but you did not know that. Which brings me to another point,” he continued. “I gave you explicit instructions that you were not to get in touch with Robbie. Now you tell me that you’ve been in contact with him almost from the day you returned to London. How do you expect me to help you if you do not follow orders? You always were an insubordinate whelp,” he grumbled.

“Charles,” said Justin gently. “You have been working on this for weeks now, with no appreciable results. No, no”—he held up a hand as a flash of pain shot into Charles’s eyes—”I know you
have been doing everything possible. However, I realize you have a great many other matters to attend to. I cannot expect you to devote your every waking minute to my problems.”

“But, I have been doing just that!” exclaimed Charles. “I can do none other. My affection for you—” He halted abruptly, apparently embarrassed as would any good Englishman at almost giving vent to a mawkish display of emotion. “I have hardly stirred from my desk since Rivenchy escaped. That situation alone was enough to demand my complete attention, and when your name came up in the matter, I redoubled my efforts.

“And, in fact,” he continued, “I have come up with something that may be useful. A very good friend of that private in the Rifles—the one who went missing just about the time your supposed corpse was found floating in a ditch—did come into some money in the days prior to his disappearance. He put it about that he had won it at cards, but it appears to have been a rather large amount to have been staked in a game among fellows of such low rank. Indeed, if any such sum had been won, the others in the game would surely have talked of it for days. Yet no one in the 95th seems to remember such a high flyer. The private, by the by, one Hieronymous Kemp, never did show up again.”

‘This is something like, Charles!” Justin exclaimed. “It’s certainly the most valuable piece of information we’ve had to date on the Peninsular end of the situation.”

“Yes, however, the fact that we don’t want your enemy to know that we’re investigating makes it difficult to do any extensive nosing around.”

“Mmp. Perhaps I can manage something on my own, or Robbie might be able to—”

Charles stood abruptly. “For God’s sake, don’t involve Robbie any further.”

Justin’s eyes widened. “He’s already involved, Charles. He’s the only one who knows my situation, and he’s the one man who could garner the facts about Private Kemp without arousing suspicion. I don’t understand,” he concluded, “why you are so reluctant to bring him into this. It seems to me, he’s one of the few assets I have—besides you—in this whole mess.” He hesitated. “Is there some reason you want to avoid using Robbie’s expertiser

“No, no,” replied Charles hastily. “Of course not. I just don’t want to see anyone else put in danger. And since he’s your best friend…  In addition, this is an extremely delicate matter. Robbie is the best of good fellows, of course, but he is not an operative, and
it has been my experience that the more people you have mucking about in any given situation, the more chance there is of making mice feet of the whole thing.”

“Yes, I see your point,” said Justin softly. “But Robbie isn’t just people.”

The discussion between the two men continued for some minutes without resolution, and when Justin left Charles’s house a few moments later, as usual by the French doors that led directly from his study, it was with his friend’s admonitions still ringing in his ears.

As he made his way through the silent streets around Lincoln’s Inn Fields toward a seamier section of town, however, he whistled thoughtfully. As much as he might decry the misgivings conveyed by Charles, he found it necessary to admit that yes, it appeared Robbie was not being completely honest with him. He would, of course, be willing to wager his life that Robbie had not lied, precisely, but a still, small voice within whispered that there was something his good friend was not telling him.

And, come to think of it, Justin thought with an unpleasant sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, he was wagering his life, was he not?

Chapter Nineteen

“It seems to me the next logical step,” said Robbie in an argumentative tone. The hour was much advanced, and he and Justin were seated in Robbie’s dining parlor. Justin had arrived at Robbie’s digs an hour or two ago, after leaving Charles’s house for a visit to Jerry Church. From there, he embarked on a rather extended foray into several dubious establishments in London’s Dock area, as well as in other equally unsavory neighborhoods. There, he had interviewed a scattering of individuals with whom he’d had dealings in the past on a variety of matters. He’d asked a few questions and made a few requests, and now he was glad, he reflected, to be away from the sights and smells of the city’s underbelly.

The remains of a substantial meal lay scattered on the table before him, and two or three empty bottles lying abandoned before them gave evidence to the length and intensity of the discussion underway.

“But,” said Justin for what seemed like the hundredth time, “you can’t go haring off to the Peninsula. Since you’re supposed to be here recuperating, you’d have to go in disguise, and that would mean all sorts of complicated arrangements—which would take time and money to put together.”

“Not all that complicated, and not that much money,” replied Robbie somewhat owlishly. “I can use the tinsmith’s cover that you’re so fond of. You already have the stuff for that, so it won’t cost a penny. I can beg a place on Ben Jarvis’s boat or with Clem or another one of our smuggler friends. There’s a parcel of them that owe us favors.”

“Yes, but—”

“No buts. Discovering that Roger Maltby was apparently paid handsomely and given false papers to get Rivenchy through English lines and that Private Kemp was handed over to a person or persons unknown just so he could be drowned in a ditch, could be the answer to everything. I need only a few minutes private conversation with Maltby. If I read him aright, he’ll blow the whole whid with just a little persuasion.”

Robbie bunched his fingers purposefully.

Justin sighed. “It’s very tempting, to be sure. But it seems to me that if anyone should be bounding across the main to repair my fortune, it’s me.”

“Don’t be daft. If anyone discovers you lurking about camp in disguise, you’d find your neck in a noose before the cat could lick her ear. If I’m discovered it would be, ‘Oh, hullo, McPherson. What the devil d’you think you’re got up as?’ I might have a little explaining to do, but nothing I couldn’t talk my way out of. In addition,” he continued after a moment, “I have an interest in this, too, y’know. There’s a traitor at large, and I wouldn’t mind being the one to bring him to justice.”

Justin fell silent, unable to think of a response to Robbie’s argument.

“Right, then,” concluded Robbie. “I’ll be off tomorrow. I’ll have my little chat with Maltby, and after he confesses what he’s been up to, and who paid him to get up to it, I’ll turn him over to Scovell. He can take it from there.”

“Yes, and in the meantime, Jerry Church seems to think he’s closing in on Cyrus Bentick as our main suspect. Says he’s been behaving very strangely of late. It may be time I had a little chat with Cyrus. By God, Robbie!” said Justin exultantly. “It’s possible that within a very short time, my name will be cleared.”

Robbie sent him a shuttered look. “Yes, of course it will, laddie,” he said at length, and once more Justin experienced the chill feeling that his friend was keeping something back.

The sun was gilding the tops of London’s thicket of church steeples when he let himself through the garden door that led from the stables to the house in Caroline Street. To his surprise, he found Catherine waiting for him in the small breakfast room at the rear of the house.

“A fine time to be getting home,” she greeted him, smiling. “The neighbors will think my cousin is a regular peep-o’-day boy.”

“Good Lord! What are you doing up at this hour? Surely, you haven’t been—”

“No, I have not been up all night waiting. I will confess, though, that I put in a restless night. When dawn came creeping into my room, I gave it up and came downstairs. You’re just in time for breakfast,” she said, gesturing him to a chair at the table.

“Coffee should be forthcoming any minute. Tell me, did you learn anything of value?”

Instead of following her direction, Justin moved to stand next to her, marveling at the lightening of his heart when he’d entered the room to discover her standing at the window. Her green eyes glowed in innocent invitation. She was garbed in some sort of filmy, silken thing, and she smelled like a sinner’s dream of heaven.

Suppressing with difficulty an almost intolerable urge to gather her in his arms and kiss her till she was breathless, he turned away to take the seat indicated.

“Yes, I believe I may have. I set some inquiries in motion, and I’ll know more in a few days.”

He related the results of his visits to Charles and Robbie.

“Oh, Justin,” she whispered. “Do you really think Robbie will pull it off?”

“Oh, I should think so. I don’t believe Roger Maltby is the man to resist Robbie when he is in full persuasion mode.”

Catherine eyed him thoughtfully. Despite his obvious fatigue, he stood straight and tall in a dark coat and pantaloons of an inconspicuous gray. How was it, she mused distractedly, that he managed to look so impossibly elegant in such unfashionable attire? For a moment, she reflected in some regret, she had thought he meant to kiss her. Why had he not? Particularly, since she had dressed in what she felt was her most becoming morning gown with just such an outcome in mind. For a self-declared scoundrel, he was remarkably slow to take advantage of a situation that had been virtually dished up to him along with his breakfast toast.

She shook herself, returning to the matter at hand. Evidently, she reflected, Justin still reposed full trust in his friend. Well, he certainly knew Robbie better than anyone—but she felt uneasy that Robbie had been allowed to take matters into his own hands—at least on the Peninsular end of the investigation.

“Did you uncover the evidence you had hoped to find of Cyrus Bentick’s activities?”

Justin nodded noncommittally, and it seemed to Catherine that a shadow fell across his features. However, he said only, “I think I may have. I should know more in a day or two. Ah, did you say something about coffee?”

“Oh. Yes, it’s so early the servants are not about yet. But I stopped in the kitchen and Mrs. Jameson was just getting out the breakfast china. We should—ah, here we are,” said Catherine as one of the hulking footmen hired by Mr. Silchester lurched into
the room bearing a large coffee urn. Behind him, a maid carried a tray laden with toast, muffins, and other assorted breakfast items.

“Cook said t’tell ye, mum,” said the maid, gasping a little as she curtsied, “that the eggs and ham and kippers will be along in a moment.”

“Thank you—Begley, isn’t it?”

“Yes, mum. Thank ye, mum.” The maid, having laid out the contents of the tray on the buffet table, curtsied once more and bustled from the room.

“And what are your plans for the day?” asked Justin, buttering a scone with a lavish hand.

“I am going to pay some morning calls,” replied Catherine with visible satisfaction.

Justin paused, his scone suspended in midair. “Morning calls?” he echoed in surprise.

“Yes. I have maintained contact with one or two friends—real friends—who supported me throughout the scandal that erupted over my Francis Summervale episode. I wrote to tell them I was planning a visit to London, and they replied, insisting I come to see them while I’m here.”

“Excellent.” Justin smiled warmly. “I predict that by the end of the week you will be immersed in morning calls and balls and Venetian breakfasts and all the rest. You’ll be promised to more routs and
soirees
than you can fit into your schedule.”

Catherine’s returning smile was tentative. “Your assessment may be a bit premature, but at least so far, I am glad to be back in Town.” She paused. “Have you given any thought to your own future, once you’ve reclaimed your status as a law-abiding citizen.”