Silk and Shadows (48 page)

"The world will learn a number of unappetizing things about me, and perhaps about my son-in-jaw as well?" the duke said, his voice ironic. "That sounds remarkably like blackmail. However, I will do as you ask this once. Just remember that while silence may be golden, it is not infinitely valuable."

Weldon's face eased, triumph coming into his eyes. "It's valuable enough." After a brief discussion to arrange the transfer of the money, he left.

Haddonfield stayed in the morning room, his gaze unfocused. There was something fitting about paying Weldon blackmail, for the duke deserved punishment. And since the money was going to Peregrine, at least it would be staying in the family.

At length he shook his head, and rose. God only knew what Peregrine was, but he could not be a worse husband to Sara than Weldon would have been.

* * *

Before leaving for Sulgrave the next morning, Peregrine visited Benjamin Slade and described the latest developments.

The lawyer's brows rose when he heard what had happened at the Sanfords' ball. "Was it wise to let Weldon know that you are behind his problems?"

"Not wise, perhaps, but essential," Peregrine said tersely. "What would it take to hang Weldon?"

Slade considered. "It would probably require ironclad evidence that he had personally murdered someone. But I thought you were more interested in killing him yourself than in having Her Majesty's courts do it for you."

Peregrine ignored the remark, though inwardly he decided that the people closest to him were beginning to know him too well. "Of the eight guards you hired for me, I'm assigning two to you personally. Take them along whenever you go out, and make sure that they stand watch in your house at night."

Slade was taken aback. "You really think that's necessary?"

"My guess is that before Weldon comes after me, he will try to remove pressure on the railroad. If he traces the lawsuits back to you, he might decide that killing you will help him and inconvenience me." Peregrine gave a sardonic smile. "The former assumption may be wrong, but the latter is certainly correct."

The lawyer's face became shuttered. "Since you put it like that, I'll welcome the guards. Is there any chance that Weldon could eliminate both you and me, and get away with it?"

"No chance at all. I had a third set of copies made of the evidence we have on Weldon, and gave it to someone that Weldon will never connect with me. No matter what, he will be brought to justice for his crimes." Seeing Slade's expression, Peregrine continued, "Don't look so doomed—I am just taking care of all possibilities. Weldon is not invincible. He is only a madman with a few thugs working for him. With luck, he'll never find you, and he may do nothing to you personally even if he does."

Then he turned on his heel and left, his mind already on what other precautions must be taken.

Across the street, a nondescript man had already learned from a shopkeeper who lived at that address. When Peregrine left, the nondescript man resumed following him.

That afternoon, a report of Peregrine's morning visit reached Charles Weldon. By luck, Weldon's railway secretary recognized the name of Benjamin Slade. A few more inquiries in different directions established that Slade was undoubtedly Peregrine's man of business. For a quiet man who worked from his home, Slade was surprisingly well-known in the business community. He was also respected to a point just short of awe.

As the pieces came together, Weldon rubbed his hands in satisfaction. Yes, luck was still on his side. In a week, he would have closed the book on Michael Connery, the fool who thought he could defeat Charles Weldon.

That night, two men broke into Benjamin Slade's town house. The intruders were in the process of starting a fire when they were surprised by two armed defenders. Shots were exchanged in the darkness and one of the intruders was wounded, leaving blood on the floor and the windowsill. Slade arrived on the scene in time to assist in putting out the fledgling fire, which did no serious damage.

Considerably disquieted, the lawyer sent a message to his employer first thing the next morning. Shortly after lunch, Peregrine arrived at Slade's house. After a guard let him in, Slade came into the hall to greet his guest, and was almost smothered when Jenny Miller hurled her small self into his arms.

"When she found that an urgent message had come from you, she bullied me until she learned what it said," Peregrine explained with a faint smile. "Then she wouldn't let me leave the house without her."

"Are you all right, Mr. Slade?" the girl said anxiously, scanning him as if looking for scorch marks.

"I'm fine, Jenny," the lawyer assured her. Dressed in the clothing Lady Sara had given her, the girl would not have looked out of place in the highest society. With considerable reluctance, he removed her clinging hands. Glancing at his employer, he said, "Did you wish to speak to me alone?"

"Jenny might as well come with us," Peregrine said dryly. "She'll just listen at the door if we try to exclude her."

"Right you are, mate," she said with a defiant gleam in her eyes. Following Slade into his office, she sat next to him on the hard, horsehair-covered sofa and clutched his hand as if her presence would guarantee his safety.

As soon as the door was closed, Peregrine said, "Pack everything essential and close the house. You'll be safer at Sulgrave. It will only be for a few days— whatever is going to happen will happen soon."

Slade frowned. "Can the guards stay here? I would rather not have my house burned down."

"Fine, though if you leave conspicuously enough, there probably won't be another attempt."

The lawyer gnawed on his lower lip. "How do you think Weldon located me so soon?"

Peregrine grimaced. "Probably he had me followed yesterday morning. I thought I had come early enough so that he would not have had time to arrange that. Instead, I must have led him here myself." He shook his head in self-disgust. "I should have known better than to underestimate him for even a moment."

"Your guards prevented anything serious from happening," Slade pointed out.

"True. I was half a move ahead of Weldon this time—barely enough." His face was set like granite.

"I will not let my friends suffer for my lack of foresight."

"Are we friends? I thought I was your employee."

"Would you have done all the strange and sometimes dubious things I've asked of you just for money?"

"No, I suppose not."

"I didn't think so." Peregrine hesitated for a moment, for it was very hard to say what he felt out loud. "I value you, Benjamin, and I don't want anything to happen to you."

Slade looked as embarrassed as Peregrine felt. "Thank you. I appreciate hearing that." He smiled, his eyes briefly touching the young woman at his side. "My life has become so much more interesting since I met you."

Peregrine's mouth quirked wryly. "The Chinese have a curse that says 'May you live in interesting times.' I hope you don't come to think that meeting me has been a curse."

Slade was impressed when Lady Sara welcomed him to Sulgrave without so much as a hint of surprise. The lawyer thought that boded well for the marriage; a woman married to Peregrine had better be unshockable. Slade was allotted two comfortable adjoining rooms, one for an office and the other for sleeping. Right after dinner he excused himself and withdrew to his rooms, wanting to take care of the work that had not gotten done because of the break-in and move to Sulgrave.

The evening was well advanced when a soft knock sounded at the door. He invited the visitor to enter, thinking it must be Peregrine. Instead, Jenny came in with a tray and an uncertain expression. "Would you like some tea, Mr. Slade?"

He couldn't suppress his smile of pleasure. "You really shouldn't be here," he said as he rose from his chair. "It's not proper, and Lady Sara might object."

"I've finished my work for the evening, so she won't mind." Jenny set the tray down and poured two cups full. "In fact, she won't even notice. All she really sees is her husband."

"They're happy?" Slade pulled a chair out for Jenny.

She nodded as she sat down. "There's kind of a glow between them. I've never seen anything like it." Then Jenny's brows drew together as she offered a plate of cakes to her companion. "But I don't think he's telling her what's happening. That's not right—she should know because she's part of it."

"I understand why Peregrine doesn't want his wife involved. I doubt if anyone except he and Weldon will ever know the full story. He certainly isn't telling me."

"He's making a mistake," Jenny said darkly. "Lady Sara may have led a protected life, but she's not a child. She's going to be angry when she learns everything he's been up to. And it could be dangerous for
her not
to know."

"Tell him that, if you're brave enough," Slade said with a small smile. "I'm not."

"I'm not either," Jenny said ruefully. "I expect it will be all right. But there's trouble coming—I can feel it in my bones. When I heard that someone had tried to burn your house down…" She shuddered. "You could have died in your bed."

"But I didn't. Now I'm here and safe, and everything will be over soon."

Jenny just shook her head, her face grave. "Weldon and Peregrine—they're like two cocks fighting, and they won't stop till one or both of them are dead. And God have mercy on anyone who gets in the way."

Slade fell silent, uneasily aware that the girl was probably right. He had been caught between the two men, and it might have killed him if Peregrine hadn't thought to supply the guards.

Deciding that the conversation was too serious, he began asking questions about Jenny's life in the country. Her descriptions of a London girl's introduction to cows and harvests was hilarious, and the evening went quickly.

A clock striking midnight finally reminded Slade of the lateness of the hour. "Time for bed, Jenny. Thank you for coming—I've really missed our evening talks."

"So have I." She stood and gathered the cups and plates onto the tray, but instead of leaving, she began toying with the lid of the teapot. Not looking at him, she said, "Remember how you said that lying together should mean something?"

Slade tensed, not sure what was coming. "I remember."

She darted a quick glance at him. "If we did now— it would mean something." Her eyes flicked back to the tray. "If you still wanted to."

He swallowed hard, not sure what to do or say. This was different from the first time she had propositioned him, but he was not sure how. Then he realized. Jenny was no longer the young woman who had calmly offered her body to pay a debt. She was shy, fearful of rejection, because this time her feelings were involved.

"Oh, yes, Jenny, I want to," he said softly. "But I'm still not sure that it's the right thing to do. What about your new life and the handsome young footman?"

"I've met all kinds of men here," she said simply. "Grooms, footmen, guards, and gardeners. Most have given me the eye, and some of them are handsome, but none of them are you."

He felt that he had been given the greatest gift of his life. Beyond caring if his actions were right or wrong, he reached out and cupped her cheek, his fingers tingling at the feel of her delicate skin.

"Ah, Jenny, you are so lovely," he whispered. Then he leaned forward and kissed her, very gently. While he was not without some experience of women, he had never been a womanizer, and he knew that he was not a dashing, expert lover. But he wanted, with every particle of his being, to please this young girl who had known so little of pleasure.

Jenny's lips worked under his, slow and experimentally, as tentative as Slade himself. Then she gave a soft sigh and raised her hands to his shoulders to draw him closer. And as the night flowed on, the man with little experience and the girl with too much found magic together.

After they had made love, she began weeping. Horrified, Slade propped himself up on one elbow. "What's wrong, Jenny? Did I hurt you?"

He thought that she might draw away, but instead she burrowed against him, wrapping her arms around his chest. "I didn't—I didn't know it could be so sweet."

He cuddled her close, stroking her flaxen hair with one hand, awed that such a lovely young woman was happy in his arms. There had been moments of awkwardness, and they had much to learn about each other, but she was right: there was great sweetness between them. Quietly he said, "I know that this is too soon, but would you at least consider marrying me?"

Shocked, she drew her head back, tears glinting on her cheek in the lamplight. "Marry you?" she faltered.

Carefully he brushed the tears away with the tip of his finger. "I know that I shouldn't ask. I'm almost twice your age and not a very interesting person, but I'm rather well-off, and I swear I'll take good care of you. As my wife, you'll never be cold or hungry or bullied by anyone again.''

"You're the most interesting man I've ever met," she retorted. "But you can't marry me! You're a gentleman."

He smiled, "I can marry any woman I can talk into accepting me, Jenny, though I've never wanted to marry before."

"What would people say?" she asked miserably. "Gentlemen don't marry whores. I would embarrass you."