Lord Portman's Troublesome Wife (19 page)

They were silent in the carriage going home. Rosamund was worried. If Harry had not returned with that bruise on his face so soon after Francis regaling her with his tales, she might not have been concerned. What had Francis meant by ‘embroiling himself in your affairs’? She did not think for a moment that Harry would confide in his cousin about Mr O’Keefe. Or had Max been so foolish as to tell him the truth about those coins? And where had Harry got that bruise?

He would have gone straight to his room as soon as they entered the house if she had not taken his arm and propelled him towards her boudoir. Here she pushed him into a chair. ‘Sit still while I find that salve. It is a recipe my mother used when my brother used to hurt himself as a boy and I always keep some by me.’

‘There really is no need,’ he said, watching her go to her dressing table and wring a cloth out in water, and then fetch out a pot of ointment. ‘It’s nothing. It will be gone by the morning.’

‘It is already spreading,’ she said, coming back to him and surveying him critically. ‘It was only faint before, now it is a rainbow of colours. You must have run into that door full tilt.’ She began dabbing at it with
the cloth. It came away stained with make-up. ‘Oh, Harry, do you have to wear this stuff, you really do not need to, you know. You have a very good complexion.’

‘Too good,’ he said, grinning. ‘The fashion is to be pale.’

‘I do not care for that fashion. You do not wear makeup at Bishop’s Court.’

‘That’s different.’

‘I like you best without it.’

‘Do you, my dear?’ he asked softly.

‘Yes.’ She was standing over him, carefully smearing the salve on his nose. As her hand came close to his lips, he caught her finger in his mouth. Startled, she pulled it away. ‘Harry, I can’t do this if you don’t behave.’

‘I am not sure I want to behave.’ He put his arm about her waist and pulled her on to his knee. The pot went flying from her grasp. She heard it break, but could do nothing about it because he was kissing her. Her worries about Max and Frances and how he had come by that bruise flew from her head. He did want her, after all. Her heart began to thump in anticipation, but then he seemed to shudder, as if coming out of a deep sleep, and stood up, depositing her back on her feet. She stood and waited expectantly. Now, surely he would consummate their marriage?

Her hope dwindled to nothing as he murmured, ‘Thank you for the salve, my dear. I shall be as good as new in the morning.’ Then he dropped a kiss on her forehead and was gone, leaving her in tears to clear up the broken glass and ointment. They seemed as far apart as ever. But something had to be done, if she was not to lose the happiness the last few months had brought her.

Harry stumbled up to his room. He must have been more foxed that he realised. Good God, he had nearly succumbed to temptation. She had looked up at him, lovely eyes searching his face, her lips slightly parted as if in invitation. It was becoming unbearable, this longing to make love to his wife. Every time they were alone together, he felt himself spinning ever closer towards a whirlpool, which pulled him in and down. He must resist. Not only because of what had happened to Beth, but because of O’Keefe and the coiners.

It was not only his duty to the Piccadilly Gentlemen driving him, but the need to find out about Rosamund’s involvement with O’Keefe, to discover if it was anything more than her father’s foolishness. That was what Mr Tetley had assured him was the case. He would have been satisfied with that, if the lawyer had not also mentioned a bag of counterfeit guineas that had been found in the old man’s room and which he believed had been handed over to the Excise. It had confirmed Harry in his belief that Max Chalmers had been passing them. He needed a clear head to bring that business to a conclusion and, more importantly now, keep her safe.

He slept fitfully and rose next morning, more determined than ever to try to distance himself from her. It was too early to go calling, so he took a gallop in the park and then, instead of going home, went on to Ashley’s bachelor apartments in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.

Ash, who was suffering from overindulgence at the Admiral’s the night before, was wearing a quilted dressing gown and a wet cloth on his forehead. Having offered his early visitor a cup of coffee, they sat down
to discuss the events of the night before. ‘I made enough fuss to be sure word of it would be all round town,’ Ash told him. ‘According to the witnesses, I very nearly caught you in the act, but you are slippery as an eel and managed to escape, in spite of being pursued by half the population of London. It is strange how stories become more exaggerated with each telling.’ He paused, surveying his friend’s swollen nose with interest. The bruise had come out, red, yellow and purple, and he looked like a prize fighter. ‘I didn’t do that, did I?’

‘No, it was that linkman who came after me. Put me down on the cobbles, curse him.’

‘How did you explain it to your lovely wife?’

‘I walked into a door when I was foxed.’

Ash laughed. ‘You foxed! I never met a man who could hold his drink better. Did she believe you?’

‘I am not sure. She pretended she did.’

‘I sincerely hope that is the last time you set up a caper like that. You were as near as dammit caught. James would not have liked that. You know he is a stickler for keeping above the law and he would not be happy if he were forced to defend you by explaining that you were working for the Piccadilly Gentlemen. It would do the Society’s reputation no good at all.’

‘I know. I would not ask it of him. And it would not help to catch the coiners.’

‘Now what?’

‘Off to the Nag’s Head and this time I think I will be taken to the farm.’

‘Let me come with you.’

‘No, I have to go alone, but you could follow and
keep watch, in case anything goes wrong.’ He paused. ‘But keep well back and do not interfere unless I give you the signal.’

‘You cannot arrest them all single-handed.’

‘I am not going to try. Arresting people is the job of the Runners; besides, I do not want my disguise penetrated. It is too convenient and might be needed again. Once I have located the farm and told Sir John Fielding where it is, my work is done.’ Then he could concentrate on his wife, he told himself. There were still problems to be overcome, not least the not-so-little matter of consummating the marriage. And then there was her brother and the clipped coins. Both seemed insurmountable.

‘Speaking of disguise,’ he said to Ash, ‘I could not leave Portman House in broad daylight as Gus Housman, so I brought his clothes with me. I would deem it a favour if I could change here.’

Ash laughed. ‘That would have caused some raised eyebrows. I’ll send my valet out to collect my new waistcoat from the tailor and take you up to my dressing room.’

This was soon accomplished and Harry emerged in his usual disguise, though the spotted handkerchief was missing; it had done its work and was needed no more. He clamped his greasy black hat back on his head and rejoined Ash, who had dressed in his bedchamber and was wearing the dark blue coat of a naval officer.

‘You look even more disgusting by the light of day,’ Ash commented, wrinkling his nose.

‘Good,’ Harry said, filling his coat pockets with small coins from the bag he had brought with him. ‘I had better be off.’

‘Leave your horse in my mews,’Ash suggested. ‘We must not make the mistake we made before and risk it being recognised.’

‘Horse?’ Harry laughed. ‘Gus Housman could never afford a mount. He must walk, but it would help if you could have Hector on hand in case I need to make a swift getaway.’

O’Keefe was waiting for him in his usual place. He had a tankard of ale on the table in front of him and was in no hurry to leave until he had finished it and his cohorts had established that Housman had not been followed. Seeing Harry’s face, he chuckled. ‘Nearly had you, did they? Heard all about it. Serves you right for working alone.’

Harry fingered his nose as he slipped into the chair opposite the coiner. ‘Tha’s the way I like it.’

‘So, what have you brought me?’

Harry emptied one of his pockets. There were half-guineas, shilling and sixpences, plus a few copper coins. O’Keefe picked them up and examined them one by one, biting into each with blackened teeth. ‘Good,’ he said, putting them in a leather pouch he wore about his waist. ‘But I asked for yeller boys, too.’

Harry dipped into the other pocket and produced a bag, which he jingled enticingly. ‘There’s fifty ’ere, but it comes at a price.’

‘I could tek it off yer.’

‘Yer could,’ Harry conceded thoughtfully. ‘But you ain’t goin’ to, are yer? I know too much.’ That was a risky ploy, he knew. They’d kill him as soon as not, but he didn’t think they would attempt it in the Nag’s Head in broad daylight. And he hoped Ash was not far away.

‘Right.’ O’Keefe drained his tankard and stood up. ‘Let’s be goin’ then.’

Harry followed him out of the tavern down to the river, where the mudlarks paddled about in bare feet retrieving flotsam and jetsam, like coal and timber, to use or sell to make a few pennies to spend on food. The Thames was still the main artery of the capital and full of shipping of all kinds, sea-going sailing ships, small yachts, barges and hundreds of rowing boats, both privately owned and those for hire.

O’Keefe made his way down to the water’s edge where two men sat in a boat, resting on their oars. When they saw O’Keefe and Harry they picked up the oars and began pushing the boat off the mud with them. O’Keefe and Harry clambered in. No one spoke.

Going by water was something Harry had not considered and he wondered if they would go straight across, upstream or downstream; unless Ash was close by and could see them, he would not know which way they had gone. The two oarsmen pulled out into deeper water and turned upstream, sending the craft skimming along, helped by the incoming tide. Harry, pretending to be unconcerned, looked about him at the houses, shops and warehouses that lined the river, trying to catch a glimpse of Ash, but there was no sign of his friend. He had a feeling he was on his own.

‘That gallowsgood has been at it again,’ Janet said, as she helped Rosamund to dress.

Another day had dawned, a warm sunny day outside, but there seemed to be little warmth or sunshine in Rosamund’s heart. Still worrying about her
husband and her future, she answered unthinkingly. ‘What gallowsgood?’

‘Why, that highwayman that robbed his lordship on the heath. He’s struck again, this time in London. Last night it was, when the streets were crowded with revellers. He robbed Sir Ashley Saunders.’

‘Who told you this?’ Rosamund asked, suddenly alert.

‘Mrs West, what comes in to do the laundry. She heard it from her son. He’s a linkman and was walking alongside a chair in Piccadilly. He gave chase and brought the man down, but he managed to escape.’

Rosamund could not help thinking of Harry in those dreadful clothes, creeping out of the house at dead of night, although last night he had been at Trentham House with her, dressed extravagantly as the coxcomb everyone believed him to be. Except for the time he had been missing, she argued with herself, and he had certainly been hurt by someone or something. She stopped her ridiculous suspicions—why, in heaven’s name, would one of the richest men in London want to rob anyone, let alone his friend?

‘How do you know it was the same man?’ she queried. ‘It could have been anyone.’

‘From his description,’ the maid said. ‘The clothes and his spotted neckerchief. They picked that up and handed it in to the Watch. Course the Watch are never there when they’re wanted, but I reckon if the shagbag keeps on this way, he’ll soon be caught. His lordship said he would be.’

‘His lordship?’ queried Rosamund. ‘When did he speak to you about it?’

‘He came to the kitchen to ask for an early breakfast and when Cook told him what we had been talking about, he said not to worry about it, but to be careful when we went abroad and not walk out alone.’

So Harry had risen early and gone out—did the man not need to sleep? ‘Did his lordship say when he would be back?’

‘No, my lady.’

‘What was he wearing?’

‘Why, a riding habit, my lady. He left on horseback.’

She let her breath out. It was a stupid question to have asked. Her husband would never have gone out in daylight dressed like a vagrant. But where had he gone? Why all the secrecy? The last person she expected to answer that question was Francis Portman.

The young man arrived just as she was trying to make up her mind whether to call on Lady Trentham, which was the polite thing to do after enjoying her hospitality, or to wait until Harry came back and they could do it together. Francis was unctuously polite, but she could see as soon as he entered the small parlour where she sat that he was bursting to tell her something. She was not sure she wanted to hear it.

‘It is early for making calls,’ she told him. ‘And I am afraid his lordship is not at home.’

‘I know that.’ He could not disguise the satisfaction in his voice as he refused to take the chair she indicated and stood facing her. ‘I reckon he’s got himself into a hobble he won’t easily get out of.’

‘What do you mean?’ She clenched her fists into the folds of her skirt to stop her alarm becoming obvious. ‘What has happened?’

‘I saw him, not more than half an hour go, with a shady character in the Nag’s Head, handing over a pile of coins. They left together.’

‘Coins?’ This time she really was shaken. ‘Do you mean guineas?’

‘I wasn’t near enough to see. Could have been. Unless you want to see your husband hanged for treason, you had better do something about it. After all, it’s on your account he’s in trouble.’

‘My account?’ she repeated, though she was afraid he was right.

‘Yes. He was always susceptible to a damsel in distress. He sees himself as a knight errant, but I never dreamed he would go so far as to marry one of them. Of course, I could let him stew in his own mess. If he hangs, then I inherit, but I do have a proper regard for the good of the family. It wouldn’t do.’

Her resolve not to react to his nastiness went by the board. ‘Do you know where he went with the man?’