Love's Harbinger (2 page)

There was something of the pounce of a jungle cat in his stride as he advanced, his hand extended. Lady Lynne felt her heart quicken when she put her hand in his and had it squeezed quite mercilessly. She examined a pair of prominent cheekbones that looked as bony as elbows. Across the top of the left one, a long, thin scar was fading from pink to white. It gave him a rakish, dangerous air that reinforced her excitement. To add to his savage looks, his skin was bronze. Was he part Indian? Delamar didn’t sound like it, but that blue-black hair and bronze skin could not be English. England did not produce such wild fauna as this man.

Faith noticed that her aunt had turned mute and rushed in with their names. “This is my aunt, Lady Lynne, and I am Lady Faith Mordain,” she said haughtily. She was subjected to another crushing grip, the fire from the topaz tiger’s eyes, and to a smile that had been absent from his greeting to the older lady. It was not a sweet or gentle smile. It did nothing to mitigate the sensation of being in a small room with a savage. It merely made her fear that the savage might eat her. It was a strangely predatory smile.

“Mr. Delamar, at your service, ladies,” he said, and waved a hand to the dusty horsehair sofa. Such was their state of distraction that they pushed the blankets and pillow aside and sat down. He pulled a chair up beside them, leaned forward, and said in a calm, businesslike way, “What can I do for you?”

When Lady Lynne found a voice, her niece observed that it was her low, crooning voice usually reserved for seduction. In a flash she foresaw that the interview would not go as planned, unless she made it go that way. “We’ve come about that naughty article in your paper, Mr. Delamar,” Lady Lynne said, coquettishly waving a finger.

There was a bantering light in the tiger’s eyes. “Which one, ma’am? If you are a regular reader, you must know they’re all naughty.”

“Oh, you
are
wicked! I read the
Harbinger
as regularly as my Bible.”

“What, only once a year?” he replied, roasting her, and let his eyes rove to Faith, who glared.

“What a wicked man you are! But it is the article about Lord Thomas Vane I am referring to,” her aunt continued.

“He gouged you, too, did he? I wish I could tell you it’s untrue, but it appeared in the
Harbinger
, so we must take it for gospel. Do you have something to add to the story? I’m collecting the names of the victims for the next issue. You’ll be in good company, Lady Lynne. How much did you lose?”

Before her aunt could reply, Lady Faith took her courage in hand and set the conversation on its proper course. “We aren’t here to submit our names for publication in the
Harbinger
, Mr. Delamar. That catastrophe must be avoided by all means. We want to know where you heard this libelous rumor,” she demanded.

He slowly turned his head to Faith and regarded her for a long moment. When he finally spoke, it was not to answer her question but to get a firmer grip on the identity of his callers. “Lady Faith Mordain—that rings a bell. Ah, now I see! Please allow, me to offer my condolences, ma’am. You are Lord Thomas’s greatest victim. The others have lost only money. You have lost your . . . heart?” His bright, inquisitive eyes seemed to be boring inside her head. “Have you, by any chance, lost money as well?”

“Certainly not! Lord Thomas has stolen nothing. I must insist on knowing the source of that rumor you published, sir.”

“I make it a rule never to divulge my sources, ma am. That is an excellent way to dry up the spring. You may be assured the information is accurate. He’s given you the bag, has he? Shabbed off, and the wedding only two weeks away.”

“You must not print such a thing!” Lady Lynne exclaimed.

“I shan’t,” he assured her, “till I learn from an unimpeachable source that it’s true. Is it?”

“No, it is not,” Lady Faith said firmly.

“Then you know where he is?” Delamar asked sharply. “If you know something that proves Lord Thomas innocent, it would be to his advantage—and your own—to arrange an interview between him and myself. I know he had a partner, a Mr. James Elwood. It’s possible he’s only Elwood’s dupe,” he said doubtfully.

“Lord Thomas is no one’s dupe!” Faith objected.

Delamar regarded her thoughtfully. “He is either a dupe or a knave, madam. Take your pick. I should think you, of all people, would be grateful to me for discovering it before you make the mistake of marrying him.”

“He is nothing of the sort! How dare you libel a gentleman’s character! I insist you write a retraction at once.”

Delamar listened, unmoved. “I accused him of nothing. Better reread my column; I only report the facts. It is a fact that Lord Thomas Vane and Mr. James Elwood have taken in over two hundred thousand pounds in subscriptions to the Anglo-Gold Investment Company. It is also fact that the company is not registered, and that Lord Thomas has left the city and Mr. Elwood has run to ground—hidden somewhere or other. I can tell you at what discreet, out-of-the-way travel agency Lord Thomas made his travel plans, if you don’t know it already.”

“Where is it?” Lady Lynne asked eagerly.

Delamar turned his attention to the older lady. His expression stiffened to uncompromising firmness. “There’s no free ride, ladies. My business isn’t giving information away—I sell or barter it. What can you tell me in exchange for my news?”

“We haven’t an idea where he is,” Lady Lynne admitted. “He didn’t keep an appointment with Lady Faith this afternoon. He’s missed a few of them lately. I sent my butler over to his flat and learned that he’s flown the coop.”

Lady Faith was stirred to defend her fiancé. “He’s gone home to his father’s estate. He wasn’t feeling well,” she invented.

“Can I quote you on that?” Delamar asked.

“No!”

Lady Lynne shook her head. “It is all a hum, Mr. Delamar. She has no more idea where he is than you have. It’s true, then; I’ve been swindled.”

“How much did you subscribe?” Delamar asked.

“Don’t tell him,” Lady Faith warned her aunt. “He’ll print it in that scurrilous paper! I thought we came here to object to the story.” Looking at her aunt, she missed the sneer that alit on Delamar’s face.

“Object?” Lady Lynne asked, astonished. “I came to find out if it was true. It obviously is, goose. We must break off the engagement at once.”

“No!” Faith gasped. “No, it—it cannot be true. Mr. Delamar is mistaken. Mr. Delamar, I think you might, just this once, divulge your source. I am very closely involved in this affair.”

“As I said, tit for tat. You give me an exclusive on Lord Thomas, the sort of intimate thing only a fiancé would know, and I’ll tell you what I’ve discovered to date.”

She stared at him as though he were a snake. “You actually expect me to divulge intimate secrets about Lord Thomas? You must be mad!”

“I’m not talking about how he makes love, though it would charm Mam’selle Ondit’s readers. I only want to know if you have anything concrete to offer in his defense—or to substantiate his guilt,” he added maliciously.

“He is not guilty!”

Delamar rose and began to pace the room. “Before you go naming a church after him, consider the evidence.” As he walked, he ticked off points on his long, tanned fingers. “He did not register the Anglo-Gold Company, he took in over two hundred thousand pounds, he’s tipped his investors the double, he’s failed to show up for appointments with his fiancée, he’s even gulled your aunt. If that does not at least raise a doubt, you are dangerously unsuspicious. I wonder if you will be as lenient when he doesn’t show up at St. George’s in Hanover Square for the wedding. ‘Lady Faith Jilted by Faithless Lover.’ That should make good reading.”

“You wouldn’t dare!” She gasped.

“I will! But only if it happens, of course. I print nothing but facts. And I’ve never printed a retraction in my life, so if that was your only business, ladies . . . I am rather busy.” He rose and looked impatiently at the door.

Lady Faith glared harder than before, then turned to her aunt. “Come along, Auntie. We’re wasting our time. We will want to stop at our solicitor’s office before going home.”

A slow smile crept across Mr. Delamar’s face, lifting his scar and crinkling the corners of his eyes. He came forward and offered Faith his hand to help her up from the sofa. She pointedly ignored it. “If that is meant to intimidate me, you’re wasting your time. Save your blunt. You have no case. I suggest you follow your aunt’s advice and write up a notice cancelling the engagement. Shall I do it for you?”

Faith pulled away. “If you print that lie, then I will sue, I promise you. I shall marry Lord Thomas Vane, and he is not a thief.”

“I didn’t say he was.”

“You implied it! And you believe it.”

“True, but then what do you care what I believe?”

“I don’t! Come along, Auntie. We cannot expect Mr. Delamar to understand that a gentleman does not steal.” On this cutting phrase, she allowed her eyes to rove around his cramped and ugly saloon. They still wore an expression of deep disgust when she allowed them to flicker over Mr. Delamar. “Good day.” She carefully lifted her skirts and stalked out.

It was extremely disobliging of her aunt not to follow her. She felt a perfect fool, waiting for her in the hall.

Before leaving, Lady Lynne gave Delamar her hand. “Please keep in touch if you learn anything further about Lord Thomas. About that exchange of information . . . I am Lady Faith’s chaperone. I know as much as she does. What is it you want to know?”

“Where he is.”

“I can’t help you there. He wouldn’t dare to go home to his father and, of course, he was not feeling ill at all. Do you plan to go after him?”

“Of course, and Mr. Elwood, too. This is the juiciest story I’ve come across in an age. And it happens I have other business at—in the same direction.”

“When will you leave?”

“The only reason I’m still here is that I’ve been scurrying around, trying to get a lead on Elwood. There are rumors he’s still in town, though he’s not at his flat. I want to find out if Lord Thomas ran off with the whole lot or split it with Elwood. I don’t see why Elwood would be hiding if he were totally innocent, but still it’s Lord Thomas who has flown, and flight is usually taken as prima facie evidence of guilt. I’ll be leaving around nine. The girl must know something, don’t you think? She could help us, if she would.”

“She’s as stubborn as a mule, but I’ll try my hand at pumping her for news. Why don’t you drop around my place before you leave London? I might have something for you by then. She might have an idea where we could find Elwood at least. He was out with her and Thomas a few times.”

“I was wondering if she plans to give you the slip and follow her Thomas. It’s possible, I suppose. Is it a love match?”

Lady Lynne drew a thoughtful breath and settled on uncompromising vagueness. “They’re fond of each other. Love will grow in time.”

“You must be alluding to the old cliché that absence makes the heart grow fonder. I shouldn’t think a vacuum the likeliest ambience for the sprouting of love. But then he won’t really leave a vacuum behind, will he? He’ll leave a trail of pain and mortification.”

“And empty bank balances!” Lady Lynne added tartly.

“There are several that will be emptier than yours, Lady Lynne, though to steal from a friend carries a special sort of odium even for a nobleman,” he said with a bold sneer that sent shivers of delight up her spine. “I’ll drop by Berkeley Square some time before nine.”

“Oh, you know where I live.” She smiled.

“Knowing things is my business. I never did find out why such a charming young lady as yourself hasn’t remarried—yet. Two years since you were widowed. London bachelors are slow-tops.”

“Oh, you really are wicked!” she crooned, and tapped his fingers playfully, then darted off to meet her niece.

Mr. Delamar strolled to the window to watch them enter their carriage. There was a glow in his topaz eyes, but it was not a glow of admiration for Lady Lynne, who felt she had engaged his interest. He thought her a fat, silly old fool who might easily be led into revealing anything she knew, only he feared she knew even less than himself.

It was a glow of suspicion directed at Lady Faith Mordain. Why was she so insistent that Lord Thomas was innocent? She didn’t look like a fool. There was intelligence in those large gray eyes. Intelligence and anger and pride. The lady was stung at her public humiliation. A woman scorned might be led to help him, if he handled her properly. But he had always found the proud aristocracy difficult to handle. They stuck together like burrs, spreading their noble mantle over their own.

He’d probably never get to the bottom of this Lord Thomas affair, but he’d give it his best effort. It was a personal crusade, almost a vendetta, that he bring Lord Thomas to justice. Even if he hadn’t been the proprietor and editor of the
Harbinger
, he would have hounded Lord Thomas to the grave. He was sorry Lady Faith must be spattered in the fray, it she were innocent, but it wouldn’t deter him.

Lord Thomas had chosen some of his victims poorly. He wouldn’t get away with the life savings of Buck and Eddie. The Lady Lynnes of the world were of less interest to him, though of course they enhanced the interest of the story. But that his own buddies, who had risked their lives for England, should be duped by a Lord Thomas was not to be borne.

He was interrupted by the appearance of a printer’s devil behind him. “What’s up then, Guy?” the fellow asked.

“My dander. Call for my rig, Joey. If anything important comes up, I’ll be at my house before I leave town.”

“The new place?”

“That’s right, in Piccadilly.”

“Setting up as a regular nabob, eh, Guy?”

“Why not? I’m as good as the rest of them.”

“Better.”

“Toadeater.” Guy laughed, and tossed him a golden boy.

Chapter Two

“It was a waste of time going there,” Lady Faith said when they were back in the carriage, returning to Berkeley Square. “I, for one, place no credence in the story of that impertinent scandalmonger, Delamar.” She might as well have been talking to herself for all the attention her aunt paid her.