Royal Revels (22 page)

Being professional con men all, they had seen the possibility for an extra bit of blunt and had played the second trick simultaneously with the first. It loomed large in McMahon’s eyes, but, in fact, George had no intention of putting himself forth publicly as the prince’s son. All he wanted was some money.

So they must all be led to believe that they had a chance to get what they wanted. Greed would blind them, as fear had blinded McMahon and himself to the true nature of Smythe’s game. He would use Lady Gilham’s trick of time pressure as well, rushing them ahead before they had time for deep consideration.

Before he extinguished his tapers, he brought out his writing box and wrote two notes on his most expensive embossed paper. The first was addressed to Mr. George Smythe and requested him to step around to Marine Parade the next morning at eleven. Lord Belami had a matter of extreme importance and urgency to discuss with him.

The second note was to Lady Gilham, requesting permission to call on her at eleven forty-five the next morning to discuss a pecuniary matter of royal importance. His lip curled sardonically as he composed this missive, and his mobile eyebrow lifted high on his forehead. To an onlooker, had there been one, he would have appeared slightly diabolical.

The delivery of the notes must be timed carefully. He preferred that Smythe not have time to contact Lady Gilham before coming to Marine Parade. There would inevitably be some brief exchange of news between them at Devil’s Dyke, but it would be only a few words. Réal would be entrusted with the carrying of the notes before he jaunted off to London for further investigation of a certain Mrs. Lehman on Upper Grosvenor Square.

Réal arrived at the Old Ship at ten the next morning, but when he learned Mr. Smythe had not come down yet, he didn’t go up to his room. He let him finish his coffee in the common room, only putting the letter into Smythe’s hand at ten-forty-five, just leaving him time to go on foot to Marine Parade and arrive at eleven.

Belami greeted him at the doorway of the Blue Saloon.

“George! May I call you George? It was so kind of you to come,” he said, offering his hand.

“Not at all,” George replied very civilly. “I must confess I’m very curious to hear what you have to say.”

“And I am very eager to say it. Do have a seat. A cup of coffee? Tea, perhaps?” How common the man looked today with the magic aura of the royal family dissipated. He looked exactly like what he was: an adventurer in an ill-cut jacket, and with a shifty eye to boot.

“I’ve just had breakfast, thank you, but I’ll have a seat at least.”

They sat looking at each other for a moment. At length, Belami said, “I hardly know where to begin. The fact is, George, I have been an utter and complete fool.” There was a polite murmur of disagreement, soon overridden by Belami. “You’ll agree with me when you hear what I’ve done,” Belami said humbly. He saw the curiosity on his guest’s face grow stronger and began reeling him in.

“There is a delicate matter I was entrusted to handle for the Prince Regent—having to do with a conniving woman. You wouldn’t know her and her name is of no importance to us. Let us call her Madame X. I was chosen to—now how shall I put it?—to retrieve some delicate letters and bric-a-brac she planned to use to get money. I failed quite miserably. The hussy outwitted me plain and simple. She’s obviously a very experienced lightskirt of the worst sort.”

Not a muscle twitched on his listener’s face, though the eyes were becoming feverish and a certain telltale movement of the fingers revealed his disquiet.

“He who dances must expect to pay the piper,” Smythe said, a trifle stiffly.

“True.”

“Well, go on,” Smythe urged impatiently.

“Now comes the really difficult part. Are you sure you won’t have something to drink?”

“No, no, get on with it!”

“I shall. This is where you come in, George.”

“I don’t see what it can have to do with me,” he said swiftly.      

“You will. You might think a prince has a bottomless purse, but it is not the case. Money is tight just now. The prince is so terribly fond of you. He asked me to keep a brotherly eye on you, to sound you out on what career interested you and so on. You may recall we discussed the matter one day, seemingly by chance?”

Smythe nodded. There was some unnecessary delay while Belami helped himself to snuff and offered the box to his guest.

“It’s only Spanish Bran, I fear,” Belami said blandly.

Smythe waved it away and sat on thorns while Belami inhaled and sneezed. Eventually, he resumed.

“I relayed your feeling that a little cash would suit you better than anything else. His Highness was disappointed, but began amassing what funds he could lay his hands on.”

“How much?” George asked eagerly.

“Only five thousand pounds, but he meant to see you settled in a career as well. He had that money set aside, George, and I, fool that I am, lost it. What I mean to say is that I failed in my mission with Madame X. By coincidence, five thousand pounds is the sum she is extorting from the prince. His advisers now feel he must give her the money or a certain scandalous matter will be made public.”

“I see,” Smythe said, biting his lip, while his face betrayed rampant calculating. “Plans to give her the lot, does he?”

“Much as it goes against the pluck, I think he must.”

George considered this for a moment in silence. “I am in no hurry,” he said reluctantly. “Let him give the money to this Madame X, and I shall wait till he gets hold of more.”

“That is what I hoped you would say,” Belami said, warmly approving. “I would feel derelict in my duty, however, if I didn’t warn you of one other circumstance. Mrs. Fitzherbert’s arrival could just change the picture for you. Of course, we know pretty well she is your mother, but she is so cross with the prince that she might deny it.”

“You mean she’s here?” he asked as a jerking motion partially lifted him from his chair.

“Did you not hear the rumor at the party last night?”

“Yes, but... That is—I seem to have heard later it was all a hum,” he said in confusion.

“She was said to have already arrived, but it was premature. The Duchess of Charney had a letter from her this very morning. She left Bath the day it was posted and shouldn’t be more than a day behind her letter. If she takes it into her head to refute your story, then I cannot promise that mere friendship will lead the prince to be open-handed with you.”

“But it wasn’t my story!” Smythe was swift to point out. “I never claimed to even know the woman.”

“But there is the matter of the ring...”

“Oh, damme, Belami, there are dozen of rings just like it around. It means nothing.”

“McMahon mentioned something about a letter as well...”       Belami said with a questioning look.

“Why, to tell the truth, I came across that letter in an old Bible I bought in a used goods store right here in Brighton. I only showed it to the prince as a curiosity and he took the notion I had had it forever. It gave him such pleasure, I didn’t like to disillusion him,” Smythe said, coloring up in embarrassment.

“Then what is your kinship to the prince based on, if not the ring and not the letter?” Belami asked, acting bewildered.

“On a whim. Nothing more.”

“Well, it will all come out in the wash when Mrs. Fitzherbert arrives. We’ll never convince the prince otherwise without some real proof.”

“But in the meanwhile, Madame X will be given the five thousand?” George asked, trying to temper his interest.

“He’s sitting on the money like a broody hen on her nest, wanting to give it to you, but afraid Madame X will create a scandal if he doesn’t give it to her. McMahon has spoken to a judge about getting an injunction against her, and something may come of that,” he added calmly.

“An injunction? How long would that take?”

“I have no idea. Perhaps Madame X will beat him to it and get her letters published before the judge makes up his mind. It would certainly be easier to just give her the money, but…”

“If I am the stumbling block, Belami …”

“It’s an unkind description, but that’s exactly what you are, I fear. If it weren’t for your claims on the prince’s generosity, he’d give her the money and be done with it.”

“Let him give her the money then. I don’t want to make any trouble,” Smythe said nobly. “If I am not his son, then I deserve nothing.”

“And if you are, then there will be plenty of time to arrange your future, but as I mentioned, the prince keeps procrastinating. If there were some way we could convince him to take action—if we could find out, for instance, who you really are, that would be an end to it.”

“I never wanted to be his son! I never wanted that sort of notoriety. I myself wish I could prove I am not, but how can I do it?”

“Did your father not leave anything in the way of documents? No birth certificates, no parish records, not even a letter to anyone with the details of your birth?”

“He left me a box of papers. Truth to tell, I only glanced at them once. Dull stuff about purchasing the plantation…” He stopped and sat staring into space, frowning.

“Do you still have the box?” Belami asked quietly.

“Yes, it’s in a safety box at a bank.”

“Here or in London?”

“Here, in Brighton.”

“Why don’t we go and retrieve it?” Belami suggested.

“Why should I help you prove I am not his son?” he asked, suspicious.

“Would a thousand pounds persuade you?” Belami asked softly. “Better an egg today than a hen tomorrow, as your countryman Ben Franklin said.”

“Where would this money come from? You said he only had five thousand and all of it is for—for Madame X,” he said, pulling himself up short on the name.

“It comes from my own pocket, George. Not out of the goodness of my heart, I promise you. The fact is, there is an advancement in it for me if I pull us out of this quagmire with honor. An earldom,” he added bluntly.

“So I will get one thousand and Madame X the five thousand?” he asked and observed Belami closely.

“Only if it is proven you are not his son. If you are, then Parliament will have to sit down and discuss your future.”

“Very well then, I’ll go to the bank,” Smythe said, his decision made.

“Shall I accompany you?” Belami asked.

“No, I’ll meet you back here in, say, two hours?”

“Surely it won’t take so long!”

“I have to sort through the papers. It’s a large box,” George said.

“Very well, we’ll meet here at …” He glanced at his watch. “At one-thirty.”

“Right, and you’ll have the thousand pounds?”

“In case,” Belami answered, “you find you’re not the prince’s son.”

Smythe left, and Belami removed the bag of gold given to him by McMahon from the drawer of a desk. He removed one hundred pounds from the bag, the douceur for Lady Gilham’s locket. He rubbed his hands and smiled. His plan was proceeding satisfactorily. Greed had done its job well. The rogues saw a hope of six thousand in solid cash and had taken the bait. He put on his curled beaver and cape and called his carriage.

He had no fear of meeting Smythe at the bank, where he had to arrange to receive five thousand pounds in cash and transfer it to a pigskin case with his own initials engraved on the flap. Smythe kept his papers, of whatever sort, at Captain Stack’s cottage, of course, which was why he needed two hours to retrieve them.

Next Belami stopped at the constable’s office to arrange for some assistance. A mention of Colonel McMahon’s name sufficed. There was no need to drop such an elevated name as the Prince Regent.

This done, he proceeded to call on Lady Gilham. He had had no reply to his note, but assumed her curiosity would make him welcome or would, at least, admit him into her saloon. He didn’t have to wait a minute. She sat on her sofa waiting for him, and she looked like a cat who has just had her fill of cream. He almost expected her to purr when she spoke.

“Milord, I had a notion I might hear from you after last night,” she said, biting back her smile.

He cocked his head to one side and smiled. “You win, madame. I have met my match. A crushing blow to my pride, that all your advances were only to lead me on.”

“Not all!” she objected, working a pretty pearl-handled fan. “May I conclude you are here to take me seriously at last?’’

“Precisely,” he agreed, taking up a chair opposite her.

“Excellent, but I don’t see any package large enough to hold my asking price,” she pointed out.

“I don’t see the letters, nor the crockery and locket,” he countered with a playful look around the room.

“Let us agree on a time and place for the exchange,” she suggested. “Bring the money here...”

He silently wagged a shapely finger. “The victim more usually is permitted to choose the venue. Let me see, not my place. Miss Gower, who has taken an unaccountable aversion to me, would dislike it.”

She batted her fan innocently. “Why not here?” she asked.

“Because it is your lair, madame. Who knows what masked men might be lurking behind a door or a sofa?”

“Why, milord, you sound as though you don’t trust me!” she exclaimed in mock surprise.

“I trusted you once and have the knife in my back to prove it. Let us make it a public spot. Say, the Old Ship Inn.”

“But who knows what henchmen of yours might not be lurking there? I shall take a footman with me.”

“Bring as many as you like. I don’t plan to either kill or ravage you in a public spot, I promise you. Strong as the temptation might be.”

“You had your temptation under excellent control last night, milord,” she reminded him.

“Only the urge to ravage. I would happily have wrung your neck, could I have gotten you alone after my fiancée’s arrival,” he responded with a dangerous glitter in his eye.

“You are a poor loser, milord,” she said, aiming a coquettish smile over her fan.

“I have had little experience at losing. Were we to do business together more often, no doubt I would become better at it,” he admired.

“No doubt,” she agreed complacently. “At what hour shall we meet at the inn?”

“Will two o’clock give you sufficient time to retrieve the letters and crockery?”