Love's Harbinger (14 page)

“That’s because he don’t recognize a real lady when he sees one,” Guy told her.

“You’ll be careful of Lord Thomas,” Millie urged with a frown of concern.

“Of course.”

“How will you take him?”

“It’s like any other maneuver. I’ll work out a broad field of vision, a clear field of fire, and make sure I’ve covered my rear flank.”

Faith’s carriage came into view, and he hurried out of the hotel to see which way it was going. It turned right, up Exeter Lane. Her first stop would be the Osborne Hotel, he figured, and if he moved fast, he could have her arrested there. He felt more nervous than when he had faced the enemy in the Peninsula and more determined to succeed.

Chapter Nine

When Lady Faith was attending a seminary for young ladies, she had once accepted an invitation home to tea with the daughter of a social-climbing merchant. She was given to understand by her mama that this had been a grave indiscretion on her part, and it was never to be spoken of in public. Lower than the visit to the mansion of a cit she had never sunk till that day. Nothing prepared her for the indignity of being hauled from her carriage and accompanied, rather roughly, into the local roundhouse.

When first accosted by Constable Mather, she thought for one wild, confused instant that he was a highwayman in the middle of a city and was frightened to death. “Unhand me! Let go at once or I’ll call the constable!” she objected.

He had opened the carriage door and entered when the groom slowed down at a corner. While one hand grabbed her reticule, his other hand got hold of her wrist. He growled, “That won’t be necessary, miss, I am the constable.”

She looked into a moon face, fringed with snuff-colored hair, then to the badge of office affixed to his jacket. “But what do you want? What are you doing with my reticule?” she demanded, and tried to get it back.

He lifted it beyond her reach. “Just come along nice and quiet now, and no tricks,” Mather said.

“Let me go!” she exclaimed. She tried to fight him off, but he was persistent and very strong for such a pasty-faced man. His fingers bit like claws into her arms, and she was lifted bodily from the banquette. She called to pedestrians passing in the street for help. They sneered and gave encouraging nods to the constable. In their eyes she read the disdain and derision so often mirrored in her own. She might as well have been a pesky dog for all they cared. Her whole world was turned upside down, landing her in a topsy-turvy land where nothing made any sense.

“Step lively now, miss,” Mather said, and pulled her to another carriage standing by. He opened the door and shoved her inside. He called her “miss” as though she were a serving wench or worse. He obviously didn’t know who she was.

“You are making a mistake, sir,” she said with as much dignity as the occasion permitted. “I am Lord Westmore’s daughter. My name is Lady Faith Mordain, of Mordain Hall. And if you don’t let me go at once, you will be very sorry.”

He shook his brindled head and opened her reticule to pull out an object, which he hid in his hand. “Shame on you, melady,” he said. “ ‘Tis bad enough when the muslin company snaffles a gent’s watch, but for a fine lady like yourself to sink so low . . . You ought to be made an example of.” From his fingers dangled Mr. Delamar’s gold timepiece. There was no mistaking the engraving on its lid or the twisted piece of metal that was the remains of a spent bullet.

Her eyes grew large with confused consternation. “How did that get there?”

“You tell me, and we’ll both know,” Mather said wisely.

Shock and confusion slowed her brain, but the truth soon became clear to her. “This is Delamar’s work!” She gasped. How had the constable known the watch was in her reticule if Mr. Delamar hadn’t told him? And how had Delamar known if he hadn’t put it there himself? “He put it there himself!” she announced.

“Surely he did. That’s why he reported it stolen, no doubt.”

“I knew it! He sent you after me!”

“That he did not, miss. He only reported it stolen. It was the clerk at the Royal Bath as saw you snaffle the bit. Your fine da will do you no good now, melady.”

The carriage pulled into a side street and stopped at the roundhouse. It was a small stone edifice, and as she was dragged along the path to it, Faith noticed the bars on the windows. From one of the windows a man’s face leered at her. She had never seen such an ugly specimen of humankind in her life. He looked more like an animal than a human being. A growing horror dried up her protests. Was she going to be put into a cell, locked up like a felon?

Officer Mather did not lead her to a cell, not immediately at least. He took her to his own office and pointed at the chair behind the desk, the only chair in the room. “I’ll just send notice to Mr. Delamar that you’ve been apprehended,” he announced smugly. “It will be for him to decide what becomes of you.”

“Don’t bother,” she said.

“You admit you took it, then?”

Anger welled up, giving her courage. “Certainly not, but he will say I did. He put it in my purse himself, I tell you.” She looked around the airless, shabby room. Hope shrank to resignation that this would take some time to clear up. “Well, what are you going to do with me?”

“You just set yourself down and behave.” Mather knew he was doing wrong and felt a twinge as Lady Faith’s noble eyes pierced him, memorizing every line of his face, for future vengeance no doubt.

“If you know any solicitors, sir,” she said haughtily, “I suggest you get in touch with one without delay. Meanwhile, you will notify my aunt, Lady Lynne, at the Royal Bath Hotel that I have been wrongfully incarcerated. And you had better do it if you value your hide,” she added coldly.

Guy had given him no instructions in that regard, but a prisoner did have the right to notify her family. With such a quantity of noble names being sprinkled over the constable’s head, he deemed it wise to deviate as little as possible from the written laws.

“She’ll be notified, never you fear,” he assured her. He went out and locked the door behind him. His most urgent wish was to speak to Guy Delamar, but as he had no notion in the world where to find him, he sent a minion off to the Royal Bath Hotel with two messages; one for Lady Lynne, the other a call for help to Guy. This done, he sat trembling in his boots at what form Lady Lynne might take.

At that moment, Lady Lynne was just pulling herself up from her bed. A short rest had restored her health, her curiosity, and her desire to recover her money. She regretted that Faith had taken the carriage, but the Pleasure Gardens were just across the road. She would take a stroll there and keep an eye on the road for Faith’s return.

A stroll in a public garden was an unexceptionable place to meet unattached gentlemen, so she made a careful toilette. When she went downstairs, she wore a charming straw bonnet trimmed with cherries and black grapes that looked so real they made her hungry. She strode forth, looking sharply about for acquaintances of either sex. The patrons of the Royal Bath were members of the ton—trust Guy to put them up at the very best establishment. She recognized a few faces but no names. It occurred to her that the registry would tell her whether any of her bosom beaux were here, so she went to the front desk.

There was a man in front of her speaking to the clerk. He was a tall, gangly drink of water, with red hair. He looked a rung lower than most of the customers, so she paid little heed to him till he spoke. Then her ears perked up and she moved closer to hear the conversation. It nearly knocked her base over apex for joy.

“I don’t suppose you have a Lord Thomas Vane putting up here?” the man asked.

The clerk shook his head. “You’re the second one looking for him. No, he’s not here. Sorry.”

“He might be using another name. He’s a tall, handsome fellow. About my age, with black hair. He’d have come in a yellow curricle.”

“Lots of gents come in yellow curricles this time of year. Leave your name if you like, and I’ll tell him you called.”

“No!” the man said swiftly. “No, don’t tell him. But if he comes, would you have a message sent off to me at this address?” He took a piece of paper and scribbled something on it.

Lady Lynne stood, transfixed with interest. Was it Mr. Elwood? Surely it was. Someone had mentioned his red hair.

“Excuse me,” she said, and pulled at his elbow. “I heard you asking for Lord Thomas Vane. I’m on the same errand myself. You must be Mr. Elwood, I think?”

“Eh?” The man turned a ruddy, angry face toward her. “No, my name’s Jones.”

She shot a sapient glance at him. “And mine’s Queen Charlotte!” she shot back. “You’re Elwood, and if you don’t want me to raise a ruckus, you’d better have a word with me. Come along.”

She took him by the arm and drew him aside toward a brace of chairs in the lobby. The man went reluctantly, but he went. “Who are you?” he asked, his voice surly.

“One of your victims! That’s enough for you to know. I could land you in jail this instant, so we’ll have no monkey business, my good man. Now, I take it Thomas tipped you the double?”

“That he did!” the man admitted.

“Then you are Elwood.”

“What if I am?”

“Did Thomas skip with all the money?”

“Every last penny of it.”

“Have you any notion where he’s gone?”

“To France—that’s where we were both heading. We were supposed to be leaving next week.”

“What makes you think he’s in Bournemouth?”

“I had a word with our travel agent,” he said, clenching his fist to show the physical nature of their discussion. “He’s here somewhere, and I mean to find him.”

She regarded him silently for a moment and decided he was telling the truth. Furthermore, their aims were not inimical. “We’ll work together,” she decided.

“What do you know about all this?” he asked, and looked at her with growing interest.

“I know Guy Delamar is out scouring the town looking for you both.”

“Delamar! He’s the cause of it all! It was his article that set Thomas off.”

“Don’t be an idiot. The reason he wrote that story is because he learned somehow that Thomas meant to flit.”

“How could he know?”

“How should I know? He has spies all over town reporting to him. He was suspicious of the Anglo-Gold company, I expect, and put out a few spies to sniff around.”

“Where is Delamar?” Elwood asked.

“I’ve taken care of him—for the moment. He’s off on a wild-goose chase, which gives us a while to find Thomas.”

“Damme, I’ve been looking since yesterday. I’ve been to every inn and hotel and tourist haunt in town. It begins to look as though he’s not here at all. I think the demmed travel agent led me astray.”

“That’s possible, and if it’s true, then we’re both out of our money. On the other hand, he may be here. Delamar says he booked passage on a ship leaving tonight.”

“I can’t help you,” Elwood said. “I wager if Thomas is here, the Bloodhound of Fleet Street will find him for us.”

“I am counting on it,” she agreed pleasantly.

“Then what do you want me for?”

“To knock Delamar on the head when he finds Thomas and give us time to get our money,” she answered frankly. “I get first kick at the cat. He has five thousand guineas of mine and I mean to have it back. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll return the rest to the rightful owners. But that is entirely up to you,” she added enticingly.

Elwood studied her and did some rapid figuring. The five-thousand-guinea investment rang a bell. “You’re Lady Faith’s aunt!” he said.

“What if I am?”

“I see.” He nodded his head and continued thinking. It was soon clear to him that the lady cared not a fig for Lord Thomas but was interested in recovering her money and keeping the whole matter quiet for her charge’s sake. Further consideration showed him that she could hardly report the matter as she had chosen to involve herself in it. She wouldn’t announce to the world that she had arranged for him to steal the money, and therefore no one would be the wiser. Thomas, the villain, would hardly dare to return to polite society.

A sly smile settled on his freckled face. “I don’t see why we can’t work together. You just let me know when Delamar returns and I’ll be after him like a shadow.”

“Where will you be? I may have to get in touch with you in a hurry.”

“Right here. I’ll move into the Royal Bath.”

“Fine. You’d best book a room now and keep to it, for Delamar will recognize you. I’ll tell you when he arrives. Have a footman bring your things from wherever you’re staying. This is no time to leave. Delamar might be back at any moment.”

They rose and strolled together to the registration desk. It was again a Mr. James who registered, and a certain Tessie Clements who made note of it. Millie had already been hinted out of the lobby by the clerk and was forced to stroll up and down outside the hotel. Tessie ran to relay her news.

Both girls recognized Jem Mather’s minion when he hastened into the hotel. He had often escorted them to the roundhouse. “You’ll have to go in and see what he’s up to,” Millie said. “They’ve already invited me to leave.”

Tessie saw the minion go to the desk, watched and listened as he was directed to Lady Lynne, and heard her outrage when she read the note. “It’s impossible! They’ve locked up my niece, Lady Faith!” she exclaimed.

Elwood grabbed the note and scanned it. He could see no immediate way in which this could be put to his advantage, but Lady Lynne soon realized that her companion could save her a trip to the roundhouse, which was bound to be extremely unpleasant. “You’ll have to go and rescue her,” she informed him.

“But why would they have locked her up?” he asked, totally confused.

“No reason is given. It is obviously a mistake. Ring a loud peal over them, and they’ll let her free. I’ll stay here and keep an eye out for Delamar’s return.”

Elwood pretended to agree to this course as it allowed him to escape the old harpy. He left the hotel but only to speak to his groom. “I’ve got a possible line on Thomas,” he said. “Do you know what Guy Delamar looks like?”

“Yes, like an Indian.”