Lord Scoundrel Dies (18 page)

Bunting, almost bristling with disapproval,
left without another word but he did show Mr. Lampforth in a few
moments later. Ruefully, Harry watched the butler close the door.
Her aunt would be hearing about this at the earliest opportunity,
which meant whatever Mr. Lampforth had to say, he had best do so in
a hurry.

‘Mr. Lampforth?’ she said. It was more of a
greeting and a question combined. He looked, she thought, rather
flustered. ‘Won’t you join me for some breakfast?’

‘Breakfast?’ Mr. Lampforth repeated blankly,
as if he had never heard of the meal before. He glanced at the
table and it suddenly seemed to make sense to him. ‘Oh, right.
Breakfast. Do you know, I don’t mind if I do? I left the house
without thinking about it this morning.’

‘It’s very early for you,’ Harry observed,
still trying to work out what was going on. She watched him collect
a plate and begin to load it with food. ‘This makes two mornings in
a row. Was there… something in particular you wished to see me
about?’

‘Well that’s why I’m here,’ he confessed,
coming to sit at the table. ‘Thought I’d pop around early and catch
you before you went out.’ He took in her outfit. ‘Just as well, by
the look of it.’

‘I’m going riding. But why did you need to
see me so urgently?’ She wondered if she should point out the
lunacy of coming to see her in such a manner. If Lord Talisker and
Mr. Lampforth continued to organize their conversations with her so
unwisely she would shortly develop a reputation of being fast.

‘I need that necklace. The one with all the
stones.’

Harry frowned. ‘They all have stones,
although the one with sapphires has considerably more than the
rest. Is that the one you mean?’

‘I jolly well hope so,’ he said fervently.
‘Otherwise I daresay I’ll be in hot water.’

‘But why do you need it so urgently? Have
you discovered the owner?’

‘No. More that the owner – or one of her
henchmen – has discovered me.’ And he proceeded to tell her about
his encounter the evening before. Harry was astonished by the
tale.

‘But everybody is going to get their things
back just as soon as we can discover who they belong to,’ she
exclaimed.

‘I don’t think the owner knows that,’ Mr.
Lampforth shrugged. They had paused while more toast and coffee was
delivered and he buttered two slices lavishly. ‘Dashed murky,
what?’

Harry was perturbed. ‘But why come to you?
How did they even know that you had the necklace?’

‘Ah.’ Mr. Lampforth touched the side of his
nose. Now that he had explained the situation and was assured that
he could put the jewelry where it was supposed to be at the
appointed time, he had relaxed a little. ‘I’ve been thinking about
that. I reckon they saw me leave. Talisker left a few minutes
before us but we left together. Recognized me. Wouldn’t have
recognized you because you were in disguise.’

‘Do you think so?’ Really, so many people
had turned up at Lord Sutton’s it was entirely possible. His house
had been a more popular thoroughfare that night than Park Lane.

‘I do. Only thing that makes sense. What’s
the bet they got in after we left, found Sutton dead and no
necklace to be found.’

Harry sighed. ‘I am so sorry. I had no idea
I would be placing anybody in danger.’

Mr. Lampforth waved a dismissive fork at
this. ‘Not your fault. You weren’t to know any better. Besides, if
they’d found the thing they might have taken everything else as
well.’

Harry gave him a smile. Really, he was the
most amiable creature. ‘So where are you supposed to take it? Or
are they coming to collect it?’

‘Nothing so simple. I’m to
take it to Richmond Square and leave it there by two-thirty. At
least, I
think
it
was two-thirty.’ Mr. Lampforth frowned. ‘Dashed if I know where
that is, but I daresay I can discover it by then.’

‘It’s next to the museum in St Martin’s
Place, part of the old priory that once stood there,’ Harry told
him.

He stared at her
incredulously. ‘Good God! Never tell me that you
know
it.’

‘Of course I do. The museum has some very
interesting artifacts, both religious and Roman. I visited there
last week.’

‘Good God,’ he said again, shaking his head.
‘Why the deuce did you do that?’

‘I like museums. I thought, while I was in
town, I might go and visit some. My aunt and cousin are not in the
least bit interested but I enjoy them and I don’t object to going
alone.’

Mr. Lampforth regarded her as he might some
strange, exotic creature he had not come across before. ‘Females
are dashed odd, I must say. I’ll never understand them.’

Harry grinned at him. ‘I will allow that
many think me odder than most. Would you like me to accompany you
on your rendezvous? Aunt Margaret and Sarah are going calling this
afternoon and I would love an excuse to do something else for I
find it hard to make conversation with people I do not know. I
could take my maid and tell them I am enjoying another cultural
sojourn.’

He brightened at the offer. ‘I say, that
would be excellent. You can show me where the place is.’

‘Do you think the person who wants the
necklace back could be the same one who killed Lord Sutton?’

Mr. Lampforth seemed to consider this for a
few moments. ‘It’s possible, I suppose. The fellow who accosted me
was more than happy to give me a nudge with that knife of his so
I’m inclined to think he’s no stranger to brutish behavior. A rough
fellow, specifically hired by somebody to get that necklace.
Perhaps he was also hired to get rid of Sutton, although a
candlestick wouldn’t have struck me as being his weapon of
choice.’

‘Well it certainly struck his lordship.’
Harry looked down at her teacup thoughtfully. ‘Who is looking for
Lord Sutton’s killer?’

Her companion looked at her blankly. ‘Excuse
me?’

‘Well, who is trying to find out who killed
the man? I mean, I know he was vastly unpleasant and a great many
people will not mourn his passing but surely somebody is
investigating the matter?’ Harry had been wondering about this. She
had no idea who dealt with such crimes. Bow Street Runners? A
magistrate?

Mr. Lampforth shrugged. ‘Nobody in
particular, truth be told. Often a victim or their family pay to
bring some miscreant to justice but Sutton did not have any family
to stump up the ready and frankly, I find it hard to believe that
anybody else will miss the blighter enough to do so.’

Harry was a little shocked
by this. ‘So there is
nobody
?’

‘Not that I am aware of.’

‘It seems most peculiar. And it makes me
feel – I don’t know – less safe, somehow.’

‘No need for that,’ Mr. Lampforth said
soothingly. ‘People don’t usually go round getting themselves
killed. Most unusual. The worst we have to worry about are footpads
and highwaymen and there are private individuals that are employed
to deal with the likes of them.’

Harry did not think this was a very good
system at all but, as she was going to be late for her appointment
with Lord Talisker if she did not hurry along, she did not have
time to discuss the matter further. She rose to her feet. ‘I must
go. Talisker and I are riding together. He is going to return those
chits to de Veer.’

‘Is he?’ Mr. Lampforth pushed back his chair
and stood up. ‘I’m glad to hear it. I had hoped he would stir
himself.’

‘You spoke to him.’

‘I did,’ he held up a hand, as if to
forestall any protests. ‘I know you did not want me to but he
seemed like the perfect candidate for such a mission. And while the
two of you don’t rub along together very well, he has his uses and
he’ll manage the job better than either of us.’

‘I’m not mad at you,’ she said, amused.
‘Actually, I think you may have been right after all. Where would
you like to meet this afternoon?’

‘That statue we were at yesterday should do
the trick. Two o’clock?’

‘Best make it one-thirty as you’re not too
sure what time the necklace is to be left. That should give us
plenty of time to get there and leave it in the right place,’ she
suggested, opening the door. She would have to hurry if she was not
going to be late and she did not want to be late. His lordship
would probably make some cutting remarks about females and
punctuality.

She left Mr. Lampforth on the street where
the bay mare Bessie, she had selected as being the most likely to
manage a brisk canter, was waiting for her. The groom that was to
accompany her was waiting behind Bessie.

Once mounted, she leaned forward to pat the
horse’s neck. ‘An unexpected treat for both of us,’ she murmured,
then straightening up, she took the reins. At least, she hoped this
ride in his lordship’s company would be a treat. If she could just
weather his disapproval a morning canter would be exactly what she
needed to blow the cobwebs away.

Mr. Lampforth felt immeasurably better after
his visit to Miss Honeywood. He had rather gotten himself into a
fugue the evening before but the clear light of morning – which was
becoming a far too regular sight in Charlie’s opinion – had put the
matter into perspective a little and his visit to the Astley house
in St James Square had finished the job. He’d been an idiot to be
so rattled, of course, but one could not tolerate the prospect of a
thug turning up unexpectedly with equanimity. The prospect was
enough to make most men jumpy.

Wondering what to do to
fill in the hours before his appointment with Miss Honeywood, he
strolled along to White’s to see who was out and about at this
hour. The dining room was well attended by gentlemen, most of them
considerably older than Charlie, all with their faces buried in
newspapers or intent upon their plates. Charlie took a table by
himself and ordered a light breakfast as he’d already indulged in
one feed for the morning. He was idly studying a discarded copy
of
The
Times
when a conversation at the
table next to him caught his attention.

‘–
it’s not that anybody is
around to post a reward. You mark my words… the identity of the
killer will never see the light of day.’

Lord Kirkiven’s voice. Charlie recognized
those strangled vowels.

‘Well you know how it is. Unless somebody
pays then there is nobody to discover who did the deed.’ Mr. Angus
Greeley’s considered tones. ‘Unless the Runners become
involved.’

‘Unlikely,’ Kirkiven grunted. ‘Who’d pay for
a Bow Street Runner? Sutton wasn’t exactly a popular man.’

Charlie listened with
interest. Of course, Lord Sutton’s death would be the topic of
conversation for some time to come and the subject was probably
being discussed in every club in London. It was curious, however,
that this conversation should reflect Miss Honeywood’s own comments
so accurately. Charlie had never thought about who dealt with
serious crime before. Indeed, there was hardly any need to as
murder was usually confined to the criminal classes and nobody paid
them any mind unless they overstepped the boundaries of Cheapside
and Hackney. Now, of course, one of the
ton
had been killed and, despite the
fact that Sutton had been a scoundrel, his death was still close
enough to hit home.

‘I heard he was popular
enough with
some
,’
Mr. Greeley observed with a chuckle.

‘It’s probably what got him killed.’ There
was a definite edge to Kirkiven’s voice and Charlie hazily recalled
the rumours that had linked the man’s wife to Sutton. Perhaps the
man was speaking from experience. Perhaps he had killed Arthur
Sutton, driven to act by a very natural distaste of another man
bedding his wife.

Actually, the more Charlie thought about it,
the more likely it seemed that somebody he knew was responsible for
killing Lord Sutton. For some reason, the knowledge made him feel
vaguely uneasy.

It hardly matters,
he assured himself.
The
man brought it on himself. Men who chose to live in such a way can
hardly expect a happy ending for they so frequently overstep the
mark. Usually it’s a duel that puts paid to them but even
so…

No, it hardly mattered. But he found himself
wondering, more and more, just who it was that had elected to kill
in such an ungentlemanly fashion. A blow to the back of the head
must surely speak more of opportunity than planning. And it said
something about the world he lived in that a fellow could get
clunked on the head in his own house and nobody was likely to be
brought to task for it. Hardly a just way of going about things,
surely? Not that he gave a damn about Sutton, not at all.

But it wasn’t just about Sutton, was it? It
was more to do with society’s inability to enforce any kind of
justice in such a situation.

Unused to such deep thoughts, especially at
that time of day, Charlie grimaced and decided to devote himself to
breakfast. A man such as himself had no head for such weighty
issues. It was Harriet Honeywood, stirring up all manner of mental
sediment. God knows, she got under one’s skin. It was enough to
make anybody itch.

‘Thank God it’s Talisker’s turn,’ he
muttered with a sigh. ‘At least he should be able to hold his own
with the girl.’

Aubrey hadn’t really been surprised to
discover that Miss Honeywood rode well, even on such an unnatural
device as a sidesaddle. He had been waiting for only a minute when
she had come along, red-gold curls dancing with the movement of her
horse, groom following along behind. And what a horse it was. When
she came up beside him he cast a judicious eye over her mount’s
rounded sides.