Midnight Bride (55 page)

"What do you want with me?" he asked.

"How would you like an opportunity to earn a sizable amount of money?" Dunstan
asked,
his face as blank as that of the man in front of him.

"Doing what? I do not plan to hang from a gibbet for you, my lord." Sitting, the man did not seem so tall.

Quickly Dunstan explained, slowly but carefully building the ideas into a workable whole. "Would you mind leaving England?" he asked. Charles, who had heard the plan before, had used the time to inspect the man from head to toe.

"You would be well paid," Charles said finally.

"So his lordship explained." The man stood up, leaving Charles and Dunstan, still seated,
feeling
like children. "Return tomorrow. I will have my answer by then."

"Where did you find him, Dunstan?" Charles asked as he watched the man walk toward the door and bend to go through it. "What a fighter he would be!"

"And how much better for our purposes."
Dunstan looked around the room, noting the way eyes were on them at all times. "Come. Let us find more comfortable surroundings."

Hartley might be staying home more than he liked, but neither the earl nor his family had that choice. Determined that no one would guess that anything was wrong, they danced their way through balls, listened to various musical performances, and even attended a lecture or two. "Too bad Napoleon got to Egypt first," the earl said after hearing one intrepid traveler describe the ruins he had seen in Egypt.
"Might be an interesting place to visit.
Always thought camels fascinating creatures."

"If they are as wicked as that man said, I hope I never see one," Elizabeth said firmly. She lifted her dress a little and gave it a shake. The talk about insects of the desert had made her feel uncomfortable.

"Why did you choose such a dry lecture?" Charles asked the earl. The older man gave a bark of laughter.

"Never thought you had it in you, Charles," the earl said as he clapped Charles on the shoulder.
"Dry lecture.
Good pun." Charles simply stared at him in confusion. Dunstan and Elizabeth exchanged a glance and broke into laughter, too.

They were not laughing the next afternoon when Charles appeared, a letter in his hand. "He asks for a meeting at the same tavern. This time he told me to bring you," Charles
said,
his face somber.

"Everything is ready," Dunstan reminded him. "When does he wish to meet with us?" They fell silent when the butler entered the room, asking for Lady Dunstan. She listened to him for a moment and then hurried from the room.

As soon as she and the butler were gone, Charles took a deep breath. He answered as though there had been no interruption.
"This evening.
He suggests that we may wish to bring some blunt. The amount, though smaller than before, is considerable."

"I will do my part," Dunstan promised. "Do you need me to frank you, too?"

"No. Mama and I talked recently. We decided that
I
should have some at hand. In fact, she has been most generous of late. Her only suggestion was that
I
use George's safe. Had to agree my lodgings were not safe enough for the amount she suggested." Charles looked around the room to make certain no one was within hearing. "What do we do now?" he asked as Elizabeth walked back in the room,
Cecile
close at her heels.

"About what?" the young lady asked, her face showing not a trace of strain. Enjoying her Season and hailed as one of the beauties,
Cecile
had taken the problem with Hartley rather philosophically, preferring to let the
ton
eliminate him.

The strain was beginning to show on Elizabeth. Her brows were drawn together in a frown. "What have you two been plotting?" she asked, her eyes trailing from Dunstan to her brother. She knew they had not told her everything.

Not wanting to alarm
Cecile,
neither Dunstan
nor Charles would answer. Their faces as placid as they could make them, they laughed, declaring themselves innocent.

Cecile
too had noticed something. "Is it Hartley? What has that man done now?" she asked. She tapped her foot, waiting for an answer. Elizabeth looked at her, thankful her brother was too besotted to take offense at his
fiancée's
attitude. With both of them so anxious to have their own ways, she had visions of the quarrels they would have when they married. She shivered
slightly,
glad to be safe from those arguments. She looked at Dunstan once more. His face, though, carefully noncommittal, was peaceful.

Fortunately Charles knew exactly the approach to take with
Cecile.
"Your plan is working, my dear," he said. Ignoring the other two, he put his arm around her and squeezed her waist. As usual, she grew pink and giggled. "Hartley is growing nervous. I imagine he is feeling the displeasure of the
ton
more every day." He bent down and kissed her cheek, marveling at her smooth skin and shell-like ears.

"Charles, her grandmother has entrusted
Cecile
to my care. Do not try to abuse her trust," Elizabeth said, her voice stern. Dunstan looked at her and laughed. She closed her eyes, realizing that she had sounded just like Louisa. Weakly she began to laugh, too.

Both Charles and
Cecile
stared at them, their eyes wide. "We are engaged," Charles said
,
his feelings of propriety bruised.

"Even
Grandmama
allows a kiss on the cheek,"
Cecile
said pompously. She looked at Charles, remembering other kisses not so innocent. "You said you would be busy this afternoon, Charles. Have your plans changed?" she asked. He nodded. "Will you see me home?"

"Yes.
I
need to speak to your grandfather too. Is he at home this afternoon?" Charles asked.

"He is always at home.
Grandmama
is quite in despair with him."
Cecile
walked over to where Elizabeth sat, the smallest expression of regret on her face. "Will it be possible to visit the new
modiste
you found tomorrow, Elizabeth?" she asked, more anxious to be with Charles than to shop.

Her hostess nodded.
Cecile
made her farewells quickly. Charles looked at Dunstan. "Is there anything I should do before we leave?" he asked.

"No, I have everything in hand.
Meet me here
at ..."
Realizing that Charles had never given him the time of the meeting, Dunstan paused.

"Half past six," Charles said. "That will be time enough."

"Does this mean that you will leave me alone again this evening?"
Cecile
asked. "Really, Charles, this is too bad of you. I had a new dress to show you, and I am supposed to sing."

"You two had best be on your way," his brother- in-law urged. He walked them toward the door, intent on escaping before he had to explain to his wife.

"Come for luncheon tomorrow,
Cecile,"
Elizabeth said. "We will visit the
modiste
afterward. You gentlemen may join us if you like," she added quickly.
"Either at luncheon or shopping."

"Or for both,"
Cecile
said, smiling up at Charles.

Having shopped with
Cecile
before, Charles said, "I think I may be on duty tomorrow afternoon." He tugged at her arm. "If you wish my escort for long, we will need to leave now." Their good-byes finished, the two walked from the room.

"I also must be leaving," Dunstan said before Elizabeth could begin the questioning he knew was coming. "If you need me, send someone to
the office. And tell my grandfather that I would like to see him before Charles and I leave this evening," he said as he paused in the doorway. Blowing her a kiss, he was gone.

Though she had grown better about dealing with her fears, that afternoon Elizabeth could not rid herself of the thought of Hartley.
Like some pale toad usually hidden from view, he signaled danger, not for herself this time but for Dunstan. She was certain of it. She had read the note Charles had left behind, had dropped carelessly when he had put his arm around
Cecile.
She had picked it up, at first simply so the servants would not find it. She had not meant to read it. But she had.

She had stared in horror at the words. Veiled only faintly was the threat. If they did not come, if they did not bring the money he demanded, Hartley would reveal their secrets to the world. He took great pride in reminding Charles of that fact, relating in more graphic detail exactly what the consequences would be if he did. She closed her eyes.

She was still sitting in the chair with her eyes closed when the earl walked in. He looked at Elizabeth, noting the gray tone to her usually clear skin. "What has happened? Is it Dunstan?" She held out the letter wordlessly. He too read the letter. "Is Dunstan here now?"

"No. He went out. He said that he needed to talk to you before he and Charles left for this, this
rendevous
tonight. They plan to leave at half past six. Try to talk them out of going," she begged.

"Have you lost sight of everything, my
dear.
This is exactly what they have been preparing for. Have faith in them," the earl said firmly.

"It is Hartley I do not trust. That man is evil."

At six o'clock that evening she was repeating the
same thing to Dunstan. He merely shook his head and wrapped a new cravat around his neck. Five already lay on the floor beside him. Graves stood beside him, another six across his arm. He carefully lowered his chin and looked in the mirror. "I think that will do it, Graves," he said. When the valet had left the room, Dunstan walked over to where Elizabeth sat curled up on the chaise, her eyes dark with fear. "My dear, there is no other way. We must meet the man." He glanced at the ormolu clock on the mantel, ready to be on his way. "He is nervous. Nervous men make mistakes."

"Nervous men also strike out." She sat up then and tried to present a calm appearance. But one single tear trickled down her face.

Dunstan saw it and sat down beside her, pulling her into his arms. "Do not cry, love. I promise you I will take care of myself."

"Be certain you do, my lord." She tried to laugh lightly, but it sounded more like a cry. "Oh, Robert, I could not bear to lose you too," she said as she wrapped her arms around his neck.