Ravishing in Red (30 page)

A throng of humanity milled in the piazza. Fruit sellers and vendors of baskets, flowers, and even used garments hawked wares from beneath the wooden roofs of their rough shelters. Women of all stations shopped alone or with gentlemen in high hats. Dirty children and dogs ran between everyone’s legs.

The portico was quiet in comparison. Only she stood here. The Domino had chosen well. He could watch from amid that crowd, and wait until he was sure it was safe before approaching. Even if he did not recognize her from the Two Swords, her mere presence announced herself as A.K.

A gentleman strolled along the nearest stalls, looking finer than most here but not finer than all. She recognized him as Lord Hawkeswell. He noticed her and raised his hat in greeting, then strolled on.

She could not see Sebastian anywhere.

“Pardon, madame.”
The voice addressed her with French words and an accent. She jolted alert and looked over her shoulder.

A man entered the portico from its arched side. He wore high boots and pantaloons, and a cloak over his brown frockcoat. Red curls were visible beneath his low-crowned broad hat. His face was fuller than her brief memory, and fairly ruddy in the light of day.

The cloak was odd. It was really too warm for one today. It gave him a dramatic appearance, the way he had it thrown back. The white lining on the black fabric looked theatrical and, along with his hat and pantaloons, made him appear like someone in a costume drama.

Then she realized the cloak was his calling card.

He took a position to her right and looked out over the piazza. “Forgive me for being forward, but that is a very handsome cloak,” she said. “Black and white, like a domino.”

He beamed at her. “It was said that cloaks like this, worn by the clergy in France, inspired the name for the tiles.”

They acknowledged each other with their eyes more than words.

“The man whom you wanted to meet at the Two Swords was my father. He has been dead a good while now. I was there in his place, as I am again now.”

“I know that he is dead. Now I know. I did not then.”

“Why did you want to meet him?”

“I had heard he was having some difficulties. I thought perhaps I could help.”

“Did you know him?”

He shook his head. “We never met.”

His accent no longer was French. More Germanic. “Are you from Holland?” she asked.

“
Madame
, it is not in my interest to identify myself.”

“Of course. My apologies. My father can still use your help, if you are still inclined to give it.” As she spoke, she saw Sebastian step into the far end of the portico.

The Domino caught her glance there. His head jerked around. Alarm entered his eyes. He stepped toward the western arch, but stopped in his tracks.

Audrianna looked over. Lord Hawkeswell stood there, framed by the arch.

“You have laid a trap for the Domino,
madame
.”

“I have not. I brought protection, that is true. I am a woman, after all.” She spoke fast to keep him from running. As she did, yet another familiar face appeared.

The Duke of Castleford staggered into the piazza, rubbing his eyes and buttoning his coat. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed. Considering the infamous trade that filled many of the surrounding streets, most likely that was exactly what had happened.

He squinted and recoiled from the sun in the piazza. Collecting himself, he set his hat on his disheveled hair and walked directly across the stones in front of her.

He spotted Sebastian and came alive. He paused and his gaze scanned the portico. It came to rest on her and the Domino.

“Lady Sebastian, good day to you. Is something amiss? Is that actor bothering you?”

The Domino glanced to either side, then peered at this new player. She could see him calculating how to dodge into the crowd.

“We would like this fellow to stay where he is,” Sebastian called, walking toward her but trying not to alarm the Domino more. “If he comes your way, Castleford, I would be obliged if you discouraged him from leaving.”

“Do you mean catch him? Block him?”

“Yes.”

“To hell with that.” The duke yawned. He fumbled beneath his coat. His hand emerged with a pistol in it. He aimed it right at the Domino.

“I would not move if I were you, sir. I am an excellent shot, but my head hurts so bad right now that I would probably aim for your leg and shoot off your balls.”

The Domino looked like a man trapped. He scrutinized Sebastian as he approached. “You.”

“Yes, me. Do not be concerned. My arm is healed and I am not looking for revenge. I do not even have a weapon, and I will not stop you if you choose to leave after you hear us out.” He looked out at Castleford. “I cannot speak for him, however.”

“If you arrange for him to point that pistol elsewhere, I will hear what you have to say.”

“We are fine now, Castleford. I appreciate your help,” Sebastian called. He looked over at Hawkeswell. “Yours too, Hawkeswell.”

Lord Hawkeswell tipped his hat to Audrianna, pivoted, and walked away. The Duke of Castleford let his arm fall so the pistol aimed at the ground. Forgetting he even held it, he looked around the piazza as if he had never seen it before. He walked away, muttering to himself.

“Your strategy was elaborate,” the Domino said to Sebastian.

“After you disappeared upon seeing me the last time at the bookstore, I thought I should discourage you from doing so again.”

“Are you with the authorities? The military or customs officials?”

“I am with the government, but I am not interested in you. Only what you know.”

“I think the risk is too big. I would not want what I know to land me in prison.”

Which meant it could. Which meant it was important. Audrianna looked at Sebastian desperately. Here she was, face-to-face with the man who might clear her father, and he was going to
walk away
.

“There is no risk,” she said. “I am grateful that you saw my notice and recognized it was for you. I have been hoping to meet you for a long time.”

“I did not chance upon your notice. I was directed to it.”

Sebastian found that far more interesting than she wanted. “How were you directed to it?” he asked.

The Domino smiled boyishly and blushed. “I was at a”—he glanced at Audrianna and blushed harder—“a place of, um, entertainment and someone asked if I was the Domino. Imagine my surprise. I was told to look in the paper for a notice of interest to me. Now it would be good if I go, I think.”

He bowed to her, to take his leave. She wanted to scream for Castleford to come back with that pistol.

“One hundred pounds,” Sebastian said. “Speak freely and it is yours.”

The Domino froze mid-bow. He looked up, impressed. He straightened. He looked out at the piazza. “We must do this where I say. Not here.”

“Wherever you choose,” Audrianna rushed to say.

He gestured for them to come with him, and walked away.

They followed the Domino out of the piazza and south through the streets of Covent Garden. “What do you mean, you did not bring a pistol?” Audrianna whispered to Sebastian.

“He would never have believed I would use it in broad daylight in town. I did not need a weapon to protect you anyway.”

“He believed that Castleford would use it.”

“That is because Castleford wears bad judgment like a medal. He sweats recklessness.”

“And you are not reckless? One hundred pounds? He would have been glad for fifty.”

“You speak to me of recklessness? That is rich. You did not only put notices in the papers, apparently. You paid people to watch for you, didn’t you? Did you just walk into these places and wave pound notes around and ask who wanted to be a spy?”

“It was not like that at all. I was very discreet. And it worked. He said he was told about my notices at a place of entertainment. Probably one of my theater spies found him.”

“I do not think that he learned of your notice at
a theater
. From his blushing and hesitation to speak of it in a lady’s presence, I suspect that it was an establishment of a different sort of entertainment. There are an abundance of them in this neighborhood.”

She stopped walking. “Surely not.”

“Probably so.”

“But I hired no watchers at br—” Two thoughts caught her words in her throat. Celia recommending just such watchers, and Celia recently writing to say her queries might soon bear fruit.

Sebastian took her arm and hurried her along to catch up with their leader. “You are due a long scold. One thing at a time, however.”

The Domino took them to one of the small docks on the river, where private craft were moored. He climbed onto one of the sailing vessels. Sebastian followed, then grabbed her waist and swung her aboard.

“Is this yours?” Audrianna asked. She received no acknowledgment of the question, let alone an answer.

The Domino removed his cloak and spread it on some boxes, to make a seat for her. Sebastian made himself comfortable on a barrel.

“One hundred, you say. No matter what you learn from me.”

Sebastian nodded. “You have been looking to sell information. I am prepared to buy it.”

The Domino settled himself on a box. “I did not ask to meet this lady’s father only to sell information. I also intended to sell him my silence. For one hundred, I will throw that in for you as well.”

S
ebastian experienced no surprise at the insinuation of blackmail. Audrianna, however, looked as if she had been slapped.

He could see an objection forming. He sent her a glance to warn her to swallow it.

“Why would your silence be of value to Kelmsleigh?” he asked. “And while I understand you do not want to give us your name, can we call you something besides the Domino now? It makes me feel I am part of a farce.”

“You can call me Frans. It is as good a name as any other.”

“I wish you had used Frans from the start,” Audrianna said. “Why the Domino?”

“To suggest why I wanted that meeting,
madame
. A common child’s game is to line the domino tiles up in long rows, then . . .” He tapped his finger against air. An invisible row of dominos began falling with the first one. “I anticipated that the others involved would help your father find some money for me, if they comprehended that his exposure threatened them too.” He pointed to Sebastian. “When, at the Two Swords, I saw that pistol in his hand, I thought a different means of obtaining my silence had been chosen.”

He removed his broad-brimmed hat. His red hair gleamed in the sun. “So now I am just Frans. Less important than who I am is what I am. I practice a profession not welcomed by governments and customs officers, but my trade improves the purses of everyone involved.”

“You are a smuggler,” Sebastian said.

“Call it what you will. As with all trade, it is most profitable if a ship or boat carries cargo both ways. Wine in, wool out. I pride myself on my efficient use of every vessel at my disposal.”

“You must have thrived during the war.”

“We always thrive during wars, but yes, Napoleon ushered in a golden age. I do not think I will see the likes of it again before I die. What made it especially profitable was the size of the French army. They needed so many things in such quantity, and their merchants could not begin to procure it all from friendly nations. Cloth. Food. Iron.”

“Gunpowder.”

Frans nodded. “You can imagine my delight at learning that I could send French luxuries into England, and leave with gunpowder that I could then sell to the French. In both cases, I first took the goods home so the source from an enemy was not too obvious. With the gunpowder, my brother sold it to a Frenchman who had friends in that army.” He sighed contentedly. “Like kegs of gold, they were.”

“Except they contained powder of bad quality,” Audrianna objected.

“
Madame
, I would never sell false goods. A bad reputation would put me out of business. What I took from these shores was of high quality. It had been removed, a few cupfuls here and a few there, from kegs of powder made under the most exacting standards, for sale to the English military.”

Sebastian stood and paced the boat while he rearranged his thinking. He had suspected a conspiracy, but not like this. He had assumed that the bad powder had been made on the cheap. Inferior materials had resulted in lower costs, but the kegs were sold for the standard price after manufacture.

Instead someone had taken perfectly good powder, and skimmed some off. He looked at Frans. “Those kegs that were tampered with—there would have to be another substance mixed in, so they carried a full weight. That is what ruined the powder.”

“Exactly. During transport to the arsenal, the wagons and barges would be diverted and the kegs opened for all of this.”

“It was a damned dangerous scheme. Opening those kegs, tampering with the contents—it was a mercy there was not a huge explosion.”

“It was dangerous in many ways. Much too complicated also. I had assumed the kegs were stolen from an arsenal. When I was told about this elaborate deception, I was shocked. It was only a matter of time, I said, before we were all found out. Armies do not send just anything to their troops and call it gunpowder. There are procedures to ensure its quality. I could see myself meeting my contacts to collect these kegs one night, and there would be a regiment waiting to shoot me.” He slapped his knee for emphasis. “I was ready to end it, right there, when I realized the full risks.”

“And yet you did not,” Audrianna said, with censure in her tone. She had been listening closely, and quietly. A good deal of apprehension had entered her eyes.

She knew where this was going. Sebastian cursed himself for allowing her to come with him today. He doubly regretted Frans speaking of blackmailing Kelmsleigh at the start. But for that, there might still be a way to protect her from what was coming.