The Genuine Article (25 page)

His thoughts were interrupted by a laugh from across the table.

"Smitten good, are you? You aren't even listening to me. I didn't think I'd live to see the day when the mighty Reginald was brought down by a pretty face. I'm itching to meet the lady. When will she be back in town?"

Reginald shrugged. "Devonshire's ball is in two days' time. I daresay she'll return for that." He struggled with his conscience, wondering how much he ought to say to Charles. His brother knew him too well to believe he had actually fallen for any woman, bluestocking, penniless, or not. But he found it difficult mentioning the actual circumstances of his unplanned betrothal. Charles didn't seem to be questioning too hard yet. Perhaps it could be glossed over.

"If she's not an heiress, how do you intend to support her? I find it hard to believe Effingham even permitted your addresses."

That was cutting to the bone. Reginald grimaced and filled his glass. "You'll have to meet Effingham to understand. He's an American and a recluse. He's inherited a deteriorating estate and no funds. I imagine he's simply interested in seeing that he doesn't have any relatives encroaching on what little he does have."

Charles made an uncommunicative grunt. "So you have seen the man. I wondered. The town is agog with rumors, you realize. No one was even certain he existed."

"He exists, all right." He was the reason for this damned marriage, but Reginald didn't say that aloud. There was another thing or three he held against the marquess. "As I said, he's American. He doesn't know our ways and isn't much interested in learning, apparently. He's been badly scarred, by a rapier it appears. I imagine he was in the war. He has a military bent to him. Combined with the fact that he hasn't a shilling for entertaining, I can understand why he stays out of society."

"Then I suppose it will be up to us to introduce the lady and your betrothal. Harriet has been wishing to come in for the Season, but she's breeding again and I didn't wish her to travel. I suppose the weather has improved enough the roads shouldn't be too difficult for her now."

Reginald gave his brother a sour look. "Congratulations. You mentioned nothing of the blessed event when I was there last month. Starting your own dynasty, are you?"

Charles shrugged, but there was a gleam of pride in his eyes. "She says she wants a pack of 'em. Damned inconvenient, if you ask me, but I can't think of any way to stop her. She'd kill me if I set up a mistress."

Suddenly imagining Marian growing round with his child, Reginald reached for his glass again. He'd never given children a thought. The idea made him weak in the knees. Had Marian given any thought to carrying his child?

Of course, she had. Women always thought of these things. They had to. They were the ones who had to bear the burden. By agreeing to marry him, she agreed to bear his children. Devil take it, but his lust was aroused at just the thought. He would turn into one randy bounder before this was over.

"Lost you again, didn't I?" Charles inquired genially. "I can remember before I married Harriet, I went around with a third leg for months. Hits you like that sometimes. Never thought it would hit you though. You always come across as a deuced cold fellow, little brother. I still haven't figured out how you've set yourself up so well without father's help. He swears it's that racing stable of yours, but I've watched the odds. You can't make a living that way."

Reginald sighed. It always came around to that. He'd burn in hell before he'd tell his family he was a shopkeeper. He wasn't certain how he would tell Marian either, but he was still having a hard time dealing with the idea of a wife. He took another swallow of wine.

"The stable takes care of itself. I've been lucky. You may tell father not to worry. We won't come begging at his doorstep. I've set aside funds for Marian's welfare in case anything happens to me. If we could just find her damned necklace, she'd have an additional income to fall back on, but the thief's been too clever for me."

Reginald glared at his wine glass. The port must be stronger than he had thought for him to blurt that out. He seldom mentioned anything that troubled him, and he had a good head for wine. He'd better leave the rest of the blasted bottle alone.

Charles refilled his glass. "Necklace? The lady's jewels have been stolen? Why didn't she call Bow Street?"

Now he was in for it. Cautiously, Reginald outlined the bare details of the theft, leaving out the reasons for the copy but including his suspicions about his valet and the marquess. Charles appeared fascinated.

"So, you end up offering for the lady to make up for the loss of her dowry, eh? Very noble of you."

Reginald slammed his glass down. "No, I did not. I offered to reimburse her for the necklace. That is neither here nor there. I am marrying Marian because she is all that I could ever ask in a wife. We will rub along very well together." To his shock, he found himself believing this. Maybe he ought to stock up on a case of this port. He glared at the glass again. He hated port.

Charles sat back, satisfied. "Just wanted to make certain you weren't doing something foolish that we could get you out of before any permanent damage was done. Marriage is a lifetime sentence, Reggie. You don't want to go into it with your eyes closed. Didn't think you'd do anything bumble-headed, but where women are concerned, men can be damned blind. Father will tell you that. He's been worried you'd do something foolish if the tide turned against you. I knew he'd want me to ask. Maybe we ought to settle the cost of that necklace on her as a betrothal gift since you feel responsible for its theft. Seems to me there ought to be a few other baubles in the vault that she might wear, too. Harriet is fair and can't wear the colored things."

His head was feeling rather light. Reginald realized he was nodding foolishly, thinking how well Marian would look in the family jewels. He didn't think even his father possessed a ruby to match the one lost, but Marian wouldn't mind that.

He'd like her to know that her husband's family wasn't impoverished, even if her husband was. He wanted her to feel like she would be taken care of in any event, unlike her mother. He was glad Charley was an understanding sort. Reginald closed his eyes and tried to remember the path of his thoughts, but they had gone wandering.

Charles laughed. "Think it's time we took you home, old boy. You never were much of a port drinker. Bet you had a bottle of brandy before you even got here. Never mix your alcohol, that's what I always say."

Reginald allowed himself to be pulled from the chair and led home like a drunken schoolboy. He was about to be married and he had never before given the state of marriage a thought. He could be a father by this time next year, and he'd known the potential mother for all of four weeks, at best.

His mind flickered from images of Marian lying naked in his bed, to children screaming up and down the stairs, to chattering women in his parlor. He was about to be very, very sick.

Charles held his head as his younger brother cast up his accounts in the gutter, then hired a hack to take them the rest of the way home.

The viscount wasn't in the least surprised when an auburn-haired servant ran down the stairs of Reginald's town house to help carry his master in. The surprise came when Reginald looked up to see who it was, gave a cry of rage, and launched into the smaller man with two fists. It wasn't like Reginald to take advantage of his greater size.

It took two night watchmen and the secretary, Jasper, as well as the viscount to pry Reginald off the man now identified as his valet. Charles nodded approvingly as Jasper paid off the watch and closed the door behind them. These things were better kept in the family.

Reginald continued to glare at the man lying on the parquet floor, holding a handkerchief to his nose and bleeding from cracked lips. "Where in hell is it, you miserable excuse of a lying, thieving..."

He seemed on the edge of launching himself at the smaller man again, and Jasper and Charles grabbed his arms.

The man on the floor gasped for breath as he answered. "A man can't visit his dear old parents for two days without being treated like a mangy dog. That's what I get for falling onto sad days. My father always told me never to lower myself to begging. Lord knows, I tried to hold myself proud, but a man can only stand so much, you know. Here I've turned your wardrobe into a thing of beauty, a thing to be admired by Brummell himself, and what do I receive in return, I ask? He wrinkles his linens and muddies his boots and comes home with his coats covered in filth, then complains to me about it. I'll not have it anymore. I'll go back to begging in the streets before I do this again. I'll—"

Charles kicked him lightly in the ribs. "Shut up, you wretch." He looked at Reginald, who appeared little the worse for wear although a trifle wild-eyed. Charles kept a firm grip on his brother's arm. "I suppose you will tell me this is the valet who made off with the necklace?"

"Damned right, and I'm going to beat every miserable little diamond out of him if I have to bring them out through his nose." Reginald launched himself forward, only to be jerked back again by two firm holds.

The man on the floor sat up, dabbing daintily at his nose, which did not seem to be in serious disrepair. "Now I'm accused of being a thief, I suppose. Damned suspicious lot, you are. I just went to visit the old folks. They live right there in the village. Had a little too much of the hair of the dog, you know, and they put me up for the night. Had to make my way back here alone when I found I'd been left behind. Not the way a man ought to treat his personal servant, if you ask me, but then, no one ever asks me."

"Rightly so," Charles said sourly. "You talk too damned much. My brother says you absconded with a lady's necklace. Unless you want to end up in Newgate, you'd better put that fast tongue to better uses."

O'Toole made a show of dragging himself from the floor and scraping a low bow. "My pardon, your lordship. I didn't recognize your worthy self."

He grabbed the handkerchief to his nose again to keep a fresh spurt of blood from staining his shirt. "I do not steal necklaces, my lord. They are not at all suitable for my attire." The words came muffled through the cloth. "I may occasionally borrow a shirt stud or two, but I always return them. And I have never so much as touched a watch. I can assure you, I have no necklace on me."

Reginald made a threatening noise and Charles was tempted to allow him to go for the fellow's throat. It would do the rascal good to turn purple for a while, but it wouldn't solve the puzzle of the lady's necklace. The viscount lifted an eyebrow at the bewildered secretary. Jasper had obviously been in his bed when the commotion erupted. He had trousers pulled on backward over his nightshirt.

"You'd best call the watch back. Let him try his tongue in Newgate for a while, then maybe he'll be a little more forthcoming."

The valet shuddered. "No, no, sirs, please do not do that to me. I am innocent. I am a cherished only child. I would never survive such a place. If you are looking for a necklace, perhaps you want the one I found in Mr. Montague's coat pocket when I cleaned it. Blue fustian of the finest quality, and he brought it home covered in filth. Cobwebs! I have never seen the like in all my born days. There's no accounting for what the aristocracy will do."

Reginald went still. His eyes were murderous as he glared at his valet. "O'Toole, produce that necklace at once!"

O'Toole looked at him with green-eyed innocence. "Why, it is on your desk just as it was before we left, sir. I'm sure I wouldn't know what to do with anything so valuable as that. It seemed odd to me, sir, but I'm not one to question my betters."

Reginald was halfway up the stairs before the last of these declarations left his valet's mouth.

Chapter 21

"That the genuine article?" Charles asked, watching his brother hold the stones to the lamplight and examine them.

Reginald uttered a dissatisfied grunt and reached in his desk for his glass to better examine the stones. "It is the original," he agreed coldly.

"Then what is the problem? Admit you made a mistake, give the poor fellow a bonus, and return the necklace to your lady." Charles watched with bewilderment as his younger brother scowled. Reginald had been stubborn and independent as a boy, but he had always readily admitted his mistakes.

"The five largest diamonds are paste. The bastard's had them replaced." Reginald set his glass back in the drawer and clenched the necklace as if he would murder it.