The Genuine Article (11 page)

"Or stealing from the wine cellar. Jasper keeps an inventory, you know. I think you owe me a few evenings' service to pay for that bottle of burgundy that has disappeared."

O'Toole did not look overly concerned with the accusation as he put away the gentleman's shaving gear. "I can offer my services on trial, as it were, for a few nights, until you see how well it will work out."

A thief, a groom, and a valet, all in one, Reginald thought to himself as he picked up his hat and stick. He was certainly getting his money's worth. "Then go find your bottle-green coat or whatever, and let us be on our way." He would regret this, he had a feeling, but he would never know for certain until he tried.

Actually, the idea of using O'Toole as his groom was an excellent one, if the man could be relied on. Reginald did not keep a stable in London. He stored his horses and carriage in a rental stall.

He had to hire someone to look after his expensive mounts whenever he attended an entertainment not within walking distance. It was a pestilent nuisance, but he hadn't the funds to maintain a town house like his father's with a mews in back. Having someone within the household to handle the chore of ordering the carriage brought around and keeping the horses in hand would be convenient. He should have thought of it sooner.

He didn't go so far as to allow the wretch to drive. Reginald took up the reins himself as his valet adopted a suitably correct position in the back. The lad could emulate a duke if he tried, with his posturing and posing. Perhaps he could introduce O'Toole to Lady Marian as a wealthy substitute to Darley. He wasn't making much headway with the lady on his own.

He wheeled up in front of the Earl of Tunningham's town house and sent O'Toole up to announce his arrival. Darley would appreciate the jest when he saw the messenger.

When the viscount came down to join him, he scarcely seemed aware of O'Toole's presence. He had been gone several days at his father's request on some estate matter, but it looked like the weight of the world had found him while he was gone. Reginald gave his friend a concerned look as he picked up the reins.

"You look like the blue dismals have wrapped around you, old boy. Anything I can do?"

Darley slouched in the seat to prevent wrinkling his trousers. "You've already been more than helpful, I hear. I understand you've been escorting Lady Marian in my absence?"

Reginald raised his eyebrows but kept his attention on his horses. "At your request, you'll remember. She's something of a handful. Did you know yesterday she wished to see Elgin's marbles, but because we had exchanged words the day before, she refused to get in the carriage with me? I had to leave the carriage and follow her and her sister through the streets to make certain they didn't get into any trouble."

"That doesn't sound like Marian." Darley crossed his arms over his chest. "If you don't like her, why did you drive her to the park and take her to Gunter's and escort her to Hatchards?"

Reginald scowled. "Because a certain friend of mine asked that I look after her, and I knew of no other way to do it. She's seldom available for a discreet morning call. The woman is all about traipsing across town every minute of the day."

"You could have suggested she wait until I was there to escort her."

Reginald finally sent him an incredulous look. "Wait? Does she know the meaning of the word? I found her at Hatchards without her maid because the multitalented Lily had a gown to repair. I missed an appointment at Jackson's because she desired to see the Tower and intended to go with her sister if I couldn't escort her. The woman is a perpetual motion machine. You try suggesting she wait until you have time for her."

Satisfied, Darley drew a deep sigh of relief. "I apologize. I'm not much with the ladies and you are. It's demeaning to know I can be jealous of my best friend. If I weren't so hen-hearted, I'd go to her mama immediately and press my suit so I wouldn't have to put myself through this. What if she sets her cap for Devonshire?"

Reginald kept his voice nonchalant to hide his alarm. "She's too sensible by far to set her cap so high. A few weeks isn't enough time to be certain of your affections. Let the lady enjoy her freedom a while longer, while you enjoy yours. A lifetime is too long to pay if you decide wrong."

"I hadn't thought in terms of Lady Marian wishing to enjoy her freedom a while longer. I suppose you're right. She's been cooped up in the country all these years. She has a right to spread her wings a little before I clip them. Do you think she'll have me, though? I'm not much to look at, and the ladies put a lot of store in that."

"They put a lot of store in wealth and titles too. She'll have you, no doubt, rest assured on that." Reginald's tone was wry.

Darley sent him a swift look. "What if her affections fall elsewhere? All the wealth and titles will serve nothing then."

Affections had nothing to do with anything when you were up the River Tick, but Reginald refrained from saying that. He merely replied, "You must set your sight to capturing her affections, then, hadn't you?"

Behind them, the spurious groom listened with great interest.

Chapter 9

Reginald watched grimly as Darley headed straight across the room in the direction of Lady Marian. While listening to his hostess prattle about the highly successful squeeze of the crowd and the need to open a few windows in such unusually wicked heat, he contrived to watch Marian give Darley a slow, sweet smile that made even his own toes tingle. Damn, but she was good at what she was doing.

Excusing himself from his hostess and working his way toward the refreshment table, he watched as Marian graceful gestured with gloved fingers that occasionally alighted on Darley's arm. He saw Darley laugh at some witticism that had her hiding behind her fan. She was no doubt batting her eyelashes for all they were worth, Reginald concluded dismally as he helped himself to the punch. No wonder Darley was smitten.

That complicated matters severely. He had no desire to lose Darley's friendship in a competition over a woman, particularly not a lying, deceitful woman like Lady Marian. If his friend's affections were truly attached, he would have to surrender the game and hope for the best. But he was rather certain Darley's interest was more in the lady's seemingly biddable nature and easy accessibility. He would not give up quite yet, not until he had made some attempt to show Darley the lady's true colors.

How he was going to do that without making a total clunch of himself was up for debate. The Bow Street Runner had come back with sufficient evidence that the lady was who she said she was. The ambitious detective had even attempted to interview the current Marquess of Effingham, only to be told he was away from home.

The few servants the Runner had interviewed had all been new and of little help, but Lady Marian's whereabouts had seemed to be common knowledge, and it had coincided with the truth. There was no evidence that the lady flirting with Darley now was anyone other than the daughter of the late Marquess of Effingham.

So Reginald would have to rely on his own abilities to unmask the lady's character. It would be no easy task. She had shown no particular interest in his suit these last days, and for good reason, he supposed. He had no title and as a younger son, his wealth was suspect. The lady wasn't so impractical as to fall for a pretty face. And she had already warned him away from her little sister. He could not fathom how he would play out this charade.

Feeling as if he were made of stone, Reginald made his way across the crowded room in the direction of the happy pair.

* * *

With a graceful flourish of long, skillful fingers, a silver coin appeared behind the groom's grubby ear. Lamplight glittered off the coin as the fingers bounced it lightly up and down, flashing silver against a gloved palm, until suddenly, it disappeared in mid-air.

"How'd you do that?" Suspicious, the old man in wrinkled livery glared at the smooth cotton of a now-empty glove.

"As I said, magic." Propped against the carriage, O'Toole crossed his bottle-green-clad arms over his chest.

"'Tis a trick. Show me how to do it." The old man shifted his glare to the younger one's grinning composure.

"It's not a trick. It's magic. One has to be born with the magic touch."

The old man scowled. "If 'twere magic, you'd be living like a king instead o' grubbin' stables."

O'Toole shook his head. "Magic cannot be used for one's own profit. Greed destroys the power. Magic can only be used for the benefit of others."

The old groom scowled at him. "Then make
me
rich."

O'Toole laughed. "Your greed isn't any better than mine. Besides, making you rich wouldn't necessarily be for your benefit." He glanced toward the tall mansion glittering inside and out with lamps, candles, and the sparkle of jewels. "Look at them in there. They got more than we can dream of, but do you think they're all happy?"

"Ought to be," the old man grumped, easing his aching bones onto a mounting block. "But they ain't all plump in the pocket. Some's not worth a bean more than we are. They just put on a good show."

"There's that, I suppose." The silver coin flipped in the air again as O'Toole uncrossed his arms. "There's some that would leave the likes of us unpaid for years rather than give up their pleasures."

"Not my ladies," the other man answered loyally. "They do their own mending and the like so as to make sure we get paid every quarter day."

"Out to find rich husbands, are they?" The coin twirled in mid-air, disappeared, and reappeared as a penny.

Trying not to be impressed by this flashy display, the old man adjusted his baggy breeches. "Way of the world, it is. The young miss is a bit of a shy 'un, but my lady has already found 'erself a viscount. Belowstairs is waitin' a 'appy announcement any day now. The young gentleman is said to be generous with his pockets. We'll all be well to grass soon enough."

"Well, I'm sure congratulations are in order. Does the young lady seem happy with her choice? Not stuck with an old codger, is she?"

The groom shrugged. "'Appy enough, I'd say. 'E's not a well set-up sort, but 'e's young. There's nothin' to complain of."

"That's good. The young lady my master's been seein' has a devil of a tongue. She ripped up at him royally the other day."

The groom chuckled. "My lady 'as a bit o' temper too. She's taken a friend of the viscount's into dislike. 'Eard 'er out on the street once a'tellin' 'im what she thought o' 'im. And Simmons said as 'ow she threw a pillow at 'im t'other day, near to knocked the tea from his 'and into 'is lap. Mighty uncomfortable that would 'ave been, I wager."

The penny became two silver coins, then three, spinning and swirling in the lamplight between O'Toole's gloved hands. He was grinning as he watched the coins.

"I daresay it would," O'Toole agreed. "Reminds me of the marquess I used to work for. Devil of a temper that man had. Wife was a quiet, pretty woman, didn't quite know how to handle it when he went off on one of his rages. Never took them out on her, though. He'd ride his horse 'til it came back lathered, apologize to the lads he'd combed over good, then go back to work with a smile as if all was well with the world again."

The old man couldn't help staring with widened eyes at the coins flickering silver in and out of the shadows. "That's the way of my lady, all right. Do summit wrong, and she'll scold until she peels the hide off your back, but do it right, and she gives you coins she ain't got to spare." He cackled softly to himself. "Teaches the young 'uns right quick to jump when they ought, it do."

"Lady like that needs a strong man for husband, I would think. The young viscount come back at her when she wields her tongue?" The coins disappeared in the wink of an eye. O'Toole leaned over to remove one from the old man's coat pocket.

"She ain't 'ad cause to wield 'er tongue at 'im far as I 'eard. They get along like peaches and cream." The groom began to surreptitiously search his other pockets.

"Odd." A second coin appeared behind a horse's ear. "The marquess used to yell at his daughter when she did something wrong, but then he loved her until she laughed after. When she got a bit older, she yelled right back. Sassy little chit. But anyone could see they adored each other. Seems like a lady with a temper ought to be that passionate about the one she is to marry."