Mary Blayney - [Pennistan 03] (12 page)

He spoke to the man waiting near the door. “This is my secretary, Roland. He will escort you out.”

“Oh, wonderful.” Mia took Roland’s arm. “Now that we are acquainted, Your Grace, I will expect you to dance with me. Once I am out.”

Elena watched the interplay. Only Mia would think to practice her flirtation with a duke. “Mia, dear, I think the duke has the next appointment and we are encroaching on his time.”

“Oh.” Mia covered her mouth with her hand and begged his pardon.

“It’s quite all right. My business will not take long.”

Even as he spoke a clerk staggered into the private salon they had used, his arms loaded with bolts of fabric, dark browns, blues, varying shades of gray and black.

“Miss Castellano?” the duke called as Mia made her way out of the shop. “Please give my regards to Lord William. I understand that the study of languages can be incredibly time-consuming.”

“I hope so, Your Grace!” Mia called back. Then she paraded through the store, out the door, and into the duke’s carriage as if she owned it. Elena followed, though she wished she could stay and make sure the duke chose one of the blues that matched his eyes.

M
ERYON WATCHED HER
leave and spent the next twenty minutes paying only the vaguest attention to the
draper. When his coach returned he left the final choices and details to his secretary, and instructed the coachman to take him to Jackson’s. There was nothing remotely feminine about the boxing establishment and he could do his best to banish the pleasure he had felt on seeing Elena Verano again.

Jackson’s was crowded. Several gentlemen offered him a spot closer to the ring where Jackson himself was spending some time with one of the newer pugilists trying to make a name for himself. Meryon declined. He had not come to watch; he had hoped to test his own bare knuckles.

Meryon saw Garrett deep in conversation with Lord Kyle, discussing his immortal soul, no doubt. When the two saw him they stopped their earnest discussion. The three of them chatted in a desultory way for a few minutes and then Kyle announced that he had to be off to meet his father.

“I need a few words with you, Your Grace,” Garrett said.

Since Meryon was sure those words involved something more personal than who the next champion would be, Meryon suggested to Garrett that they walk a few doors down to a coffeehouse.

Out in the damp air, Garrett began to cough again, but it did not sound as congested or last as long as it had the night before. When he mentioned it to Garrett, his brother-in-law shrugged.

“The irritation was almost gone but travel brought it on again.” Garrett paused and pressed his lips together. This time he was able to suppress the cough. “Ignore it, if
you please, Your Grace. It will disappear after another good night’s sleep.”

They found a quiet spot near a window, well away from the crowd arguing over the upcoming budget while smoking with as much force as they were speaking. Enough to color the air with their pipe smoke.

“Now that we are alone, comfortable, and enjoying our coffee, I will listen to your lecture.”

Garrett nodded. “Very well. Through bits and pieces that David has let drop and my conversation with Lord Kyle, it appears that your plan to ruin Bendas is well under way.”

Meryon waited, sipping his coffee, which he had ordered laced with chocolate.

Garrett took what could only be described as a fortifying drink of his coffee before going on. “It hardly matters to me what form it takes, but I must warn you, my friend, that nothing good comes from revenge. It will harm you as much as it harms Bendas.”

“I will tell you what I told Lord Kyle, as well as Lord William.” Meryon leaned across the table. “I do not want revenge. I want justice.”

“This version of justice looks distinctly like retribution. I have never known you to prevaricate.” Garrett leaned back in his chair. Meryon recognized it as a disinclination to argue.

“Michael, Bendas must pay for his actions. After that excuse for a duel, Bendas convinced the magistrate not to prosecute him for the death of a bystander. Money eased that decision, I have no doubt.” Meryon sat back, too, and pretended his calm went more than skin deep. “I will not
let Bendas use his rank to absolve him of all his misdeeds. The time has come for someone to stop him. It has fallen to me and I will not turn my back on it. I owe it to Kepless, to Olivia, and to any others who have been threatened, harmed, or murdered by him.”

“So you are ruining his reputation for the greater good?”

“No, you self-righteous prig.” Meryon spoke the insult amiably enough; Garrett accepted it in kind.

“Lynford, I was once a spy, a cheat, and a liar. Being called a self-righteous prig is a compliment.”

“You have known men like Bendas. Men who had to be stopped.”

“Yes, and that is why I know that the cost is too great.” Garrett shook his head. “Have you thought about the innocents who suffer in this? His son has done no wrong. His grandson was instrumental in capturing the two men whom Bendas hired to abduct Olivia.”

“His family should have taken steps before this, after the events surrounding Olivia’s kidnapping were taken care of.” Meryon ignored the twinge of regret. He liked Lord William. “His family had months to deal with it and did nothing. I would never have challenged Bendas to the duel if they had acted during all those months I traveled in Europe.”

“While you mourned Rowena,” Garrett added.

“While I counted what I had lost,” Meryon agreed. “The Bendasbrooks did nothing about the duke’s bizarre behavior. When I heard that, it only verified what Father taught me. Never wait for someone else to do the work you should do.”

“So you suggest cartoons to Rowlandson, play up his grandson’s estrangement, and find some way to encourage him to buy land that will prove worthless. That one is too complicated to make sense after days of travel, too much brandy, and not enough coffee. Your brother David tells me it is legal, and he is honest to a fault, but apparently as bent on this course of action as you are.”

“Before you list my sins, recall that Olivia nearly died because of Bendas, and land was at the heart of that. It seems appropriate to me that his undoing should come through his obsession with land.”

“Yes, an eye for an eye. But that is not what Christ teaches.”

“You know, I find that I do not care what Christ teaches in this case. I will have my version of justice. I cannot let Bendas’s behavior go unpunished because he sits in the House of Lords and thinks himself above the law.”

“You are not above the law either, Lynford.” Garrett spoke quietly in a voice that begged for his attention.

“I do not think I am. The action I take is done because others have neglected theirs for too long.

“Here is a man who looks as if he wants to hear your lecture.” Meryon raised his chin toward a man making straight for their table.

Meryon watched the man, a gentleman, work his way to their corner. He had the haunted eyes of a gambler, the long restless fingers of a man who wanted desperately to be throwing dice or playing with a pack of cards. His brother Jess came to mind. Another of the same sort.

“Do not introduce me. He must know Jessup, and with that connection it will take all of one minute for him to try to convince me to invest in some wild scheme that is little more than another kind of gamble.”

“God spare me a duke’s perfection, Your Grace.”

This time Garrett meant the insult and Meryon leaned closer. “The fractured vision of a reformed sinner is worse, brother.”

Each left the other laughing at a truth both would deny.

Meryon could swear the coach still carried the scent of Signora Verano’s spicy rose perfume. Recalling the Signora was infinitely preferable to mulling over the meaning of a “duke’s perfection.” He reached down to pull the bottle of brandy out from beneath the seat and found both the brandy and a handkerchief tucked into the cushion. She’d left it on purpose, he was sure of it.

Meryon tried to gauge when he would see her again. When the Season started there would be dozens of opportunities. Surely at the Monksfords’ musicale in two weeks or so. But Harriette’s party was the same evening.

Among the women of the demimonde who would be Harriette’s guests, he would be able to find someone who could fill his physical needs. He needed a mistress. One with blond hair and blue eyes, petite and thoroughly English.

But the well-placed square of cloth firmed his decision. He would hear the Signora sing again and hope for a few moments of her time in which to return her handkerchief.

———

Y
OU DID WHAT!”
Elena lowered her voice. “Mia, how could you?”

“I thought if he found your handkerchief it would be more difficult for him to forget you. My governess says it is a perfectly acceptable way to remind a man of your interest.”

“It is much too obvious, and the point is I do not want him to remember me.”

“Of course you are saying you do not want to know him better but, even without my governess’s instruction, I know that is nothing more than maidenly airs.”

“I am not a maiden and do not have airs. If I wanted to know him better I would be much more direct.”

Tina came in to announce that Lord William had arrived.

“This discussion is pointless. I will explain when I see the duke. You have embarrassed me beyond bearing and I will tell you the same thing that I told William. If you feel the need to interfere in my private life I will see it as permission to take a deep interest in yours. Do you understand?”

“What did William do?” Mia seemed to miss the point completely.

“Something very similar to what you did. I am sure it will not take much prompting for him to tell you.”

Mia bit her lip and said nothing.

“I hope you are not biting back a laugh. This is no subject to be made light of.” William came into the room. “Tell her how serious I am about this, William.”

“Yes, whatever it is, Mia, she is perfectly serious. When she starts to shout like that there can be no doubt. What did you do?”

“Oh, William, the Duke of Meryon let us ride home in his carriage while he was making his choices at the draper’s. Everyone on the street noticed it and is green with envy. I left Elena’s handkerchief in the duke’s carriage so he would not forget her.”

“Clever girl.” William grinned.

“William, do not encourage her. I am going up and will send your governess down as a chaperone, Mia.”

“Oh, but—”

Elena closed the door on Mia’s protest and thought the girl should count herself lucky that she had not sent Lord William home.

I
T WAS RARE
that Meryon was invited to dinner with the Regent. He dressed with all the care this representative of the king deserved, but without much enthusiasm. An evening with one hundred or so of the Regent’s lords and ladies was almost always dull unless one liked to discuss the latest styles, who was sleeping where, and whose daughters would be making their debut.

He would find Kyle and switch the place cards so they sat near each other. That would relieve the boredom.

Blix seemed more precise than usual and Meryon had to hurry him along with a brusque, “The Regent will be much more interested in what the ladies are wearing than how I choose to do my cravat.”

If luck sided with him tonight, some fascinating woman would present herself and Blix’s efforts would find an appreciative audience. Of one.

Meryon leaned into the library, where he found Garrett reading, as he expected. Meryon bid him good night. “A dinner discussing Hazlitt’s last essay with you would be a preferable evening.”

Garrett put a marker in the book and set it aside. “Look at it this way. Perhaps the lady you called on last night will be in attendance.”

“I think that highly unlikely.” Though the thought had crossed his mind.

“Unlikely, eh? Then this is not one of Prinny’s more licentious dinners? I was so looking forward to some scurrilous gossip.”

Meryon stepped into the room and closed the door. “What did I say that leads you to believe she is of the demimonde?”

“Nothing really, only that you paid a call well after regular calling hours and that is a trifle unusual.” Garrett made a steeple of his fingers and tapped the tips. “Unless custom has changed since I have retired to Derbyshire.”

“Why do I always feel as though I am confessing to you? Do you not know that dukes can do no wrong?”

“Yes, but apparently you don’t really believe that. I imagine from what the old vicar told me that it has something to do with your father’s understanding of the true responsibilities of a duke. Rules he imparted to you.”

Meryon was not going to start this discussion, not when the prince was waiting, more likely not ever. He came over to the table and picked up the book Garrett had been reading without really looking at it.

“I was angry last night. At least I thought I was, and I went to confront the lady about a situation I convinced
myself was so urgent that the normal rules of courtesy did not apply.”