Fascination -and- Charmed (61 page)

Struan coughed.

Franchot blinked, slowly—repeatedly.

Pippa could be seen to hold her breath.

The foolish Hoarville creature grinned and bobbed, for all the world as if she bore witness to the forging of a treaty between two nations she regarded as equally her own.

“Perhaps I have misunderstood—”

“No, no,” Franchot said quickly, before Calum could finish. “You are exactly correct. That is
exactly
what I had in mind. From the moment I set eyes upon you…Well, certainly, shortly after that, I said to myself, ‘Now there is a man whose friendship I should regard as a great boon.’ Only ill fate set us upon the wrong path. Yes, indeed, I should regard your friendship a treasure, sir.”

“And our weapons discharged prematurely on the morning of our intended duel?”

“Yes, yes, yes.” Relief brought Franchot’s short breaths spurting forth. “Praise God you are a man of reason. Premature discharge, and we are both determined to show our gratitude at our good fortune. Good fortune that we were not deprived of the opportunity to spend many satisfying hours together.”

La Hoarville clapped her plump white hands.

Struan pushed forward his lower lip and rocked up onto his toes.

“You are very gracious, Mr. Innes,” Pippa said in her charming, softly clear voice. “And now, we must not detain you further.”

Instantly, she won a scowl from Franchot. “We must not be perfunctory, m’dear. Not the done thing under the circumstances.”

“What would you suggest?” Struan asked him, much too pleasantly. “Tea, perhaps? A game of croquet on the lawn?”

“Those and more,” Lady Hoarville caroled, and then bowed her head coyly. “Oh, dear, I have overstepped myself as usual. Dear Etienne and I are old friends, but I must never forget my place, must I? I only thought that it would be so perfect if he invited you down to Franchot Castle for the lovely house party that starts there next month. That’s when we celebrate Etienne’s birthday, you know.”

Had lightning cleaved the flagway before him, Franchot could not have looked more undone. Calum stared at the man who slept in the beds that should have been Calum’s own and realized that they must share virtually the same birthday.

Lady Hoarville continued unabashed. “Don’t you think it would be lovely, Lady Philipa? There will be Henri and Saber and Etienne and me. The dowager, of course. And Lady Justine, although one doesn’t exactly count Lady Justine, does one?”

Calum regarded the woman and felt, for one of the few times in his life, a desperate need to shake a member of the weaker sex until she could no longer speak at all.

“Mr. Innes would be such a marvelous addition.” She turned to Struan and said, “And you, too, of course, Lord Hunsingore. And there would be you,” she said to Pippa without looking at her again.

“Incredible,” Struan murmured once more.

“Marvelous idea,” Franchot said hollowly.

Struan was shaking his head.

“What a charming suggestion,” Calum said before Struan could deliver a flat refusal. “Don’t you think so, Struan? Charming and generous. Only this morning we were speaking of needing a respite from the Season. We discussed spending some time in the country. Of course, Cornwall hadn’t been our intended destination, but—”

“I insist,” Franchot put in, clearly warming to the hope of absolute victory in the cause of restored honor. “You shall come to Franchot Castle as my guests and stay for as long as possible.”

Struan’s dark, narrowed eyes flashed his virulent disapproval.

“The viscount does not look convinced,” Lady Hoarville said, her blue eyes round and innocent. “
You
convince him, Lady Philipa. Tell him how much it will mean to you to have his company and that of Mr. Innes at this time when the celebrations for your upcoming marriage are to begin.”

Pippa swallowed visibly and color swept her cheeks. “If it would please everyone else, then of course it will please me.”

She did not want him to come.
Calum clasped his hands behind his back.
She did not want him to come because she feared what might happen if he did.
“Thank you, Lady Philipa,” he said formally.
You do not trust me, and you do not trust yourself if you are with me.

“It will be very jolly, I assure you,” Lady Hoarville babbled. “Why, we shall have continual entertainments. If you are very good, Mr. Innes, I shall insist upon escorting you to the fair myself. What do you say to that?”

He shifted his regard from Pippa’s face to Lady Hoarville. Her words came to him slowly, much more slowly than they had been spoken. “The fair?”

“Of course, the fair,” she said, shaking a finger. “
Everyone
knows the duke leaves the Season early and returns to Franchot for his birthday and for the fair. It is to be held next month. It is in the same week every year, and has been for absolutely
ever.
”

“The Franchot Fair,” Struan said indistinctly.

“Yes,” Lady Hoarville said, obviously delighted. “This year, the fair shall have a new reveler.
Our
dear new friend, Mr. Calum Innes.”

“This mystery of yours wears my patience,” Calum said. Pretending to doze, Struan jounced against the squabs of the Stonehaven town coach that bore them through the night. Since their return to Hanover Square during the late afternoon, he had kept to his rooms—until he appeared and announced this insane outing. He had refused to explain his visit to Mrs. Lushbottam’s establishment the previous evening in other than general terms.

“Struan,” Calum said sharply, “if you do not give me the courtesy of your attention, I shall have the coach turn around.”

“
My
coach,” Struan said without opening his eyes.

“How true.” Such comments were unlike his friend, and Calum frowned the deeper for it. “In that case, I think I’ve decided it’s a fair night for a walk.”

He raised his cane to rap the trap, but Struan was instantly above him, capturing his hand and standing where he could glare down into Calum’s face. “We are going to Whitechapel,” he said.

“So you’ve already told me,” Calum responded. “What I don’t understand is why we are going in this conveyance that announces our presence, and
why
I am to engage in this elaborate charade you say is imperative.”

“I told you plainly,” Struan said, visibly angry as he sank back onto his own seat. “And I cannot understand why, when I have gone to such lengths to assist you in a foolish quest of yours,
you
should become hostile when I ask you for something.”

“I didn’t ask you to go to Whitechapel on your own and interfere.”

“You should be damnably grateful I’m trying to do something useful.”

Calum bristled. “You’ve probably sent them running for a fresh blind. I had things well in hand.”

“Well in hand?” Struan snorted. “So well in hand you’ve now got us parading down to the bounder’s castle, for God’s sake. And for
his
pleasure, I might add.”

“The better to keep a close eye on him,” Calum remarked evenly enough. “And the better to look for clues that may lead me to proof of my identity.”

“And the better to keep you within easy reach of the fair Lady Philipa,” Struan commented, sniffing.

“Lady Philipa may become my greatest dilemma.” Calum knew he was voicing his own growing fears.

“How so?”

“She is gentle, with a generous heart. I feel that. I would like to spare her pain, but that may not be possible.”

Struan braced his weight on his arms. “You mean you would sacrifice the charming Philipa if she were to interfere with your plans?”

Calum looked out into the darkness. “Let us hope it won’t be necessary. But I cannot pretend that she will not—if all goes my way—discover that I have, to some extent, used her. At that point…well, then I shall have to see.” He must not be diverted from the matter at hand. “Why does it have to be me who creates the diversion at Lushbottam’s?”

Struan looked pained. “As I’ve told you—several times—after last night I doubt the woman would let me back into the place. I really do think Milo and Miranda have paid her to make certain neither of us gets anywhere near them.”

They drew closer to their destination and Calum huddled lower into his cloak. “There’s nothing to be gained by my engaging that creature in an altercation. All I’ll do is give her an excuse to refuse me admittance in future.”

“The man’s
deaf”
Struan spread his hands as if in defeat. “He doesn’t understand that while
he’s
diverting Lushbottam,
I
will be using that diversion to make my way upstairs and find out if our witch doctors have really left—as Lushbottam insisted they had when I called last night. I ask you,” he asked no one in particular, “is this such a difficult concept?”

Calum was not entirely diverted. “Why in a family coach?”

“To capture attention.”

“Why?”

“To accomplish our mission as quickly as possible. The women in the windows will alert Lushbottam. She will be awaiting you. The commotion will commence at once and I can accomplish our business at once.” Slapping his knees, Struan smiled engagingly. “And we are already at our destination.”

“I believe you came here last night to see the fair Ella.”

“You are a suspicious man.”

“I am a man,” Calum said, unblinking.

The carriage door opened and the coachman, his face showing nothing of his thoughts, placed the steps.

“Go,” Struan whispered urgently. “Tell her you want something better than she has shown you so far.”

Calum glanced around. “Why are you whispering? I see no one.”

“I’m whispering because I must be certain no one overhears,” Struan said. “When you suggest dissatisfaction with what she’s already offered, she’ll be determined to prove she’s got the best in London. Then she’ll have someone take you into a room where you’ll be offered a few things you’re not supposed to be able to refuse.”

“This sounds abominable.”

“You are a man of the world. Enjoy for a while just a little while—then raise a fuss to make sure Lushbottam comes running. When she does, detain her for as long as you can. Leave the rest to me.”

“The
rest?
” Calum scoffed. “Sounds to me as if all but the simplest part will be my task.”

“The entire affair is for
you,
you ungrateful rattlebrain.” Struan caught Calum’s arm. “Hurry, man. And if the brother and sister raise an alarm, be prepared to join me. We shall barricade the door and force them to speak honestly.”

“I cannot understand this change of heart,” Calum said, shaking his head. “Only yesterday you insisted—”

“That was yesterday. I
have
had a change of heart. Do what must be done.”

Still shaking his head, Calum left the coach and approached the front door of Mrs. Lushbottam’s establishment. In the windows on either side of him, fluttering eyelashes and sly winks were the only signs that he’d been seen by the industrious lady “tailors” at work with their needles.

Concentrating on the bronzed cat to his left, he knocked and braced for Mrs. Lushbottam’s tongue-lashing.

There was a creak. A slice of light widened across his polished boots. The moment had arrived.

“Well, now,” the familiar voice of Mrs. Lushbottam said. “If it isn’t one of our
real
gentlemen customers. And I thought as how you’d not been pleased with the quality of our work the last time you came.”

Calum looked up into the woman’s hollow, lipless face. “Good evening.” He stepped over the threshold. “I’d like”—he swallowed —”that is, I wondered if you might not have something of…a
most
exceptional variety.”

From the direction of the room where he and Struan had witnessed the “performance” came the sound of music played on a wooden pipe.

Mrs. Lushbottam inclined her head toward the noise. “We really don’t like interruptions once a production is in progress, but I
could
make an exception for—”

“No,” Calum said quickly. “I am a man who prefers to take his pleasures more privately, thank you.”

Teeth appeared in the gash of the woman’s mouth. “No requests denied,” she said before calling out, “Veronique! Come ‘ere, if you please.” She pushed the front door shut.

Within moments a female stepped from one of the bay windows. She was small and dark-haired, her painted face pretty, and Calum could not guess her age.

“Oui, madame?”
she said to Mrs. Lushbottam.

“This is a gentleman who’s thinking of availing himself of our most individual products. I think he wants to go upstairs. All the way up, I think it’ll have to be.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Calum said, trying to glance behind him without appearing to glance behind him. “Isn’t there somewhere right here?”

Mrs. Lushbottam’s laugh was a truly fearful thing. “Oh, sir,” she said, tugging on the points of lace at her thin hips, “we do have to remember that not everyone understands the finest things in life. Right here? Oh, my, no. Although the idea does appeal. Someone might come through that front door by mistake, and
then
where would we be?”

He’d like to be done with this gruesome masquerade. “Will you show him the way upstairs, Veronique?” Mrs. Lushbottam asked. “Top floor. Your favorite room.”

“I know the way,” Calum said.

“You don’t know Veronique’s way with
your
way, sir. Take him up, dear, and make sure he gets exactly what he’s come for.”

With a desperate sense of having made a hash of things, and casting about for a way to rescue the situation, Calum followed Veronique up the ten flights of stairs to the top floor.

In the narrow, dimly lit passageway leading to the bedrooms—and to Milo and Miranda’s room—she stopped and leaned against the wall. “Yer wanted something really special, then?” she said, sounding purely cockney. “Sometimes Lushy don’t get the little hints what Veronique gets. What yer want is an audience what’s not an audience, right? Yer want to be watched while we do our business.”

“Right.” Calum peered at her. “No, I’m afraid I don’t understand. But then, I don’t suppose you understand, either. Not that it matters.’’