Maggie MacKeever (22 page)

Irrepressible, Mab grinned. “Just think, Nell! You’ll be able to tell your grandchildren how it came about that you and Marriot were imprisoned in a bawdy house.”

“And how I myself masqueraded as a woman of very low condition?” Eleanor looked rueful. “Thank you, Mab, but I think I must not! More to the point, let us make an effort to determine how we are to remove ourselves from this place!”

“The three of you could leave easily enough,” Lord March suddenly said. “And I wish you would. It can do us no good if all of us are caught.”

“Piffle!” retorted Lady Amabel, though privately sharing this logical viewpoint. Logic, however, was often very dull. Moreover, Nell wouldn’t be budged from her husband’s side, as made clear by the stubborn expression on her dirty face. “There is safety in numbers, is there not? To dispose of all four of us would be quite difficult.”

“Dispose of—” Henrietta’s uncharacteristic silence had been inspired by reflection upon her own presence in a brothel, and the uproar that would result were the story to leak out. The best of
all
her stories, and she could never tell it! “I think that I shall swoon.”

“Pray do not!” Lady Amabel said immediately.
“If
you were to swoon, you’d fall on me, and I’m not up to your weight! Beside, we haven’t time to waste in vaporing. Nor is there reason for it! Have you forgot I sent Fergus to Bow Street?”

“You sent Parrington—?” The temptation to swoon grew even more strong. “You wretched child! Don’t you see what you’ve done? There’ll be no way to keep this business quiet! The whole world will discover that Marriot has been mixed up in these robberies, and that all of us have been in a—a house of ill repute! We shall never again be able to hold up our heads.”

“
You
may not,” Eleanor retorted, having grown very tired of histrionics. “I quite frankly don’t care a button for what anyone may say. They said quite enough while Marriot was merely missing. Now, no matter what is said, I no longer care.”

“Darling!” Awkwardly, due to his bonds, Lord March kissed her cheek. Lady Amabel clapped her hands. “Bravo, Nell! That’s the spirit! Tell all the old biddies they may go to the devil in a handcart!”

“As you mean to do, Lady Amabel?” Henrietta bared her teeth. “Because what is said about Eleanor and Marriot will also be said about you—but worse! An unmarried maiden in a bawdy house—I fear that you have destroyed all your hopes of ever making a decent match.”

This was a consideration that had not hitherto presented itself to Mab, and she conceded that there was some truth in Henrietta’s words. That concession she made silently. “If you continue to grimace in that extraordinary manner, you’ll grow positively bracket-faced!” Mab said.

“Don’t tease yourself!” Marriot interrupted, as Henrietta sputtered indignantly. “I’ll find some way to keep your name out of this, Mab. Though the case is not so desperately bad as Henrietta paints it, you must perceive that your wisest course would be to leave.”

Lady Amabel perceived nothing of the sort. “Fudge!” said she. “I doubt we
could
leave without attracting attention—just the sort of attention we would not like. Nor would you like it either, Marriot! Nell makes unusually fetching Haymarket-ware. No, we are much safer where we are—and anyway the door is locked from the inside, and I have the key.” She grinned.

“I would much rather you had a knife, brat! And less great a spirit of intrigue. Not that I wish to appear ungrateful! Yes, Henrietta, we
know
you do not scruple to tell us this is a monstrous, outrageous, repugnant situation, and not at all what you are accustomed to— which will teach you the folly of poking into other people’s business, because if you had not descended without invitation upon poor Nell, you would not have become personally acquainted with the inside of a bordello!”

“A—oh!” Henrietta’s eyes rolled back. Only a sharp nip from Mab’s fingers prevented a swoon.

“Don’t fly into alt!” abjured that damsel, “I have already told you we need only wait for Fergus to fetch Bow Street. Meanwhile we can decide what story to tell when they arrive.” She frowned. “I knew we would straighten out this tangle eventually! Very glad I am that we have, of course, but I am afraid that in comparison life will seem sadly flat!”

Lord March did not look like a man threatened by ennui. “I thought you said you’d locked the door, brat.”

“So I did.” With various squirms and wriggles, Mab fished for the key in her décolletage. “Here it is! But what are you all staring at?” She peered over her shoulder, the key held triumphantly aloft.

Boredom was not to be Lady Amabel’s fate just yet. Jane stood in the doorway, the shabby valise held in one hand, and in the other a pistol trained steadily on the bed.

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Lord Parrington’s errand was not being speedily accomplished. His advent had precipitated a ruckus at Bow Street. “I tell you I am
not
a trifle bosky!” he said indignantly to a short and nondescript fellow with a somewhat unsettling habit of sucking in air through his teeth. “A man’s life is in danger. You must come with me posthaste!”

“Posthaste, is it?” The nondescript fellow seemed to think this a good joke. “So that you may be saying how it was you put one over on old Jakes? I think not, sir! And so you may tell whoever it was put you up to it.”

“Nobody put me up to it—I mean, I am telling you the truth!” In an effort to regain control of his temper, Fergus took a turn around the room. “What must I do to make you understand that the matter is urgent?”

Jakes propped his narrow shoulders against a drab and dirty wall. “I shouldn’t think you
could
make me think it!” he said frankly. “But you’re welcome to try.”

Lord Parrington
had
been trying for several moments, both in this barren private office and in the more public regions without. Only the thought that Lady Amabel depended on him caused Fergus to persevere. As he gathered his forces for yet another attempt at explanation, the door was flung open. A familiar figure crossed the threshold. Fergus stared, temporarily bereft of speech.

Lady Katherine was not similarly afflicted. “My son!” she dramatically cried, and hobbled forward to clasp him in a maternal embrace. “I grew so worried at your continued absence that I had resolved to report you missing, and to offer a reward!”

“But I am not missing, Mama!” Not without difficulty, Lord Parrington disengaged himself and his walking sword from his parent, her cane and vinaigrette. “I only meant to attend the theater with Lord March’s party—but there is no time now for explanations! We must persuade this person—” He indicated their host. “—to rescue March.”

“Rescue?” As if to assure herself of his safety, Lady Katherine walked all around her son, eyeing him, patting his multiple-caped overcoat. “Why the deuce should March stand in need of rescue? Rather, it is you who should be rescued, son, from the clutches of that designing female.” She glanced at the nondescript individual. “Faith,
she
should be taken into custody, methinks!”

“No, Mama, you may not have Lady Amabel arrested.” Sternly, Fergus reminded himself of his parent’s devotion and the sacrifices made on his behalf. “Since you are here—which I cannot think suitable!— you must lend me your efforts on March’s behalf.”

“I must, eh?” Lady Katherine was not used to receiving even mild rebukes. “Why is that?”

Lord Parrington resumed his perambulations, which were not easily accomplished in that cramped space. “Lord March is in danger, as I have been trying to explain. Perhaps you may assist me, Mama. I was trying to tell this fellow how it was that March disappeared for all of six months. I believe Lady March even brought the matter to the attention of Bow Street.”

“That is true; he
was
missing, and quite a scandal it was.” The sharp words that Lady Katherine meant to bestow upon her son could wait. She sat down on a wooden chair, hands folded atop her cane. “As would be known by anyone who kept abreast of things.”

Jakes was rather more abreast of things than his visitors might credit, was in that moment sincerely pitying this fine gentleman for so obviously dwelling under the hen’s foot. And an obviously ill-tempered hen she was, moreover, in her Spanish hat of purple velvet turned up on one side and ornamented with a feather, and her voluminous pelisse. “I do know all that!” he retorted. “What’s more, I know Lady March said she had no further use for the services of Bow Street. Now
you
tell me Lord March is in need of rescue. Why is that?”

If only Mab had told him how much to reveal! “I am not entirely certain,” admitted Fergus with strict adherence to the truth, “but I think it had to do with stolen jewels.”

“Stolen jewels!” exclaimed Jakes and Lady Katherine in the same breath. Before Fergus could explain, the former had focused an inquisitive stare on the gems which glittered at the latter’s throat. “Not
my
jewels!” snapped Lady Katherine, with the assistance of her cane adapting a defensive stance. “Fergus, do explain what the deuce you are talking about!”

Since Jakes obviously did not believe him, Fergus cast about in his mind for some means by which to verify his tale. He remembered that Lady March had been draped about with jewels during her
soirée
—stolen jewels, as it turned out. Perhaps a description—? “A gold chain set with pearls, a parure of immense pearls, a diamond and gold breast ornament in the form of a bouquet of flowers, a bracelet with diamonds and rubies and emeralds set in enameled gold.”

This recitation was greeted by a hush. “Has the boy taken leave of his senses?” Lady Katherine querulously inquired.

“I am trying to explain why March is in danger!” Fergus cast his parent a most unfilial glance. “Somehow he came into possession of the stolen gems. Lady March wore them at her
soirée
in an attempt to flush the thieves out—”

“
Soirée
?” Lady Katherine had recourse to her vinaigrette. “You went to that woman’s soiree after I had intimated you should not? Bacchanalian scenes! Sordid little intrigues! Oh yes, I know all about it—and as if
that
were not bad enough, now you must dangle after Lady March!”

Fascinating as were these accusations, Jakes felt compelled to intervene, and not only because he feared Lord Parrington would skewer his mama with the walking sword. This violent impulse, Jakes did not condemn. Had Lady Katherine been Jakes’s mama, he would not have hesitated one instant. “And did the thieves reveal themselves?” he asked.

“I believe so.” Fergus loosened his fingers on the sword. “I believe March was to meet with them tonight, on the pretext of handing over the gems. Instead he was overpowered, and dragged off.
Now
perhaps you will concede that his rescue is a matter of considerable urgency!”

“Oh, aye.” Jakes did not move. “And where was his nibs dragged off
to?”

Lord Parrington was in a fever of impatience. “To a bawdy house!” he snapped.
“Do
get a move on, man, or we will be too late.” Now that he had time for reflection, Fergus doubted very much that Mab would be content to wait long out in the street. And if anything happened to his Mab—Unfortunately, the baron spoke this last thought aloud.

“Amabel!” shrieked Lady Katherine. “You didn’t mention
her
before! I should have known the vixen was mixed up in this business. I think I must forbid you to have anything more to do with her, Fergus, so thoroughly have you fallen under her spell.”

Lord Parrington’s reaction to this stern paternal decree surprised even the baron himself. “Forbid me all you want! It makes no difference. Since I cannot please everyone, no matter how hard I try, I am henceforth going to please only myself.” He strode toward the door. “And a the moment, with or without assistance, I am going to see what I may do for March!”

Warily Jakes eyed Lady Katherine, who had fallen back on the wooden chair in a most nervous and prostrated state. “I’m sorry to toll you, sir, that you ain’t.”

What was this? Had he not just asserted his independence? Lord Parrington glanced irritably over his shoulder. As he glimpsed the pistol that had as if by magic appeared in Jakes’s hand, his eyebrows rose.

“Beggin’ your pardon, I’m sure, sir!” Though shaken by the baron’s haughty look, Jakes saw his duty plain. “But it’s clear to me you know more than a body should
about certain stolen sparklers. More than ample ground for suspicion you’ve given me, sir! And so, I make no doubt, the magistrates will think.”

“The magistrates,” echoed Fergus, thunderstruck by this intimation that he was about to be taken for a criminal offense. “You must be mad.”

Unkind allegations had no power to sway Jakes from his duty. “Not a bit of it! Don’t be trying to tell me now that you know nothing about this business, because you obviously do—more than Bow Street! Despite the most rigid and searching inquiries.”

“What little I know was told me by Lady March,” protested Fergus. “As I have explained.”

“Lady March!” moaned Lady Katherine, recovering from the shock attendant upon seeing her beloved offspring arrested before her very eyes. “The jade!”

“No, Mama, you are getting muddled; it is Mab who you are in the habit of calling names. Not that I intend to tolerate it another moment! As for Lady March, I am not dangling after her, nor do I imagine it would avail anyone to do so; she is devoted to her spouse.”

Lady Katherine was not so easily quelled. “Devoted to a man who goes about embracing other females?” she inquired, archly.

“March was merely comforting Mab, she tells me; and that he’s also spanked her when the occasion warranted.” Fergus reflected that his own mama might have benefited from the occasional chastisement when young. “This is fair and far off! If this birdwit takes me into custody, Mama, you must go to March’s rescue.”

“I?”
Lady Katherine’s astonished expression suggested her son was the featherbrain.

Fascinating as was this conversation— Jakes would have liked to meet this Lady Amabel of whom so many interesting things were being said—it got them no further forward. “I must tell you that whatever you say to me about this matter may be used against you!” he announced after clearing his throat.