A Good Rake is Hard to Find (7 page)

“There is little danger of that this time,” Freddy retorted coolly. “I was the one at fault before, and I have no intention of making the same mistake twice.”

“I am pleased to hear it, cousin,” Gerard said in a tone that did not seem convinced. “I will also have Melisande send an invitation to Miss Craven. I am pleased to hear she is out in company again. I believe she was quite seriously touched by her brother's death.”

“Of course she was, Sir Gerard,” Mrs. Chater said firmly. “Any sister of worth would be quite upset. I will do whatever I can to welcome her to the gathering.”

If Freddy thought it odd that his cousin's mistress spoke as if she were to host the soiree instead of Melisande Fincher, however, it was impossible to say anything without offending the lady. And Gerard didn't seem to think there was anything odd about it. “I know the members of the club in attendance will be pleased to see her,” he said with a nod. “Now, if you will excuse me, my horses are a bit restless.”

As they stood there, the bays had become increasingly restive, though Sir Gerard had managed to keep them under control while they chatted. Now, however, they were pawing the ground and snorting, as if the enforced inactivity were the equine equivalent of a cage.

Freddy saluted his cousin with his whip, and drew his own mount to the side so that his cousin could steer his horses away from the curb and into the cobblestone street. “See you tomorrow evening,” Sir Gerard said, before allowing his horses to have their heads a bit.

Lost in thought, Freddy steered Hector in the opposite direction, headed for White's where he was supposed to meet with Mainwaring and Trent. He'd thought it would be more difficult to inveigle an invitation from his cousin. The fact that it had been easier than expected made him a bit wary about the whole thing. There was something odd about the ease with which Sir Gerard had welcomed him into his circle. Even so, Freddy was not about to turn down the invitation. He needed to get inside the Lords of Anarchy, and if a family connection paved the way for him to do it, then so be it.

He'd simply have to be careful about taking his cousin's words at face value.

And make doubly sure that Leonora knew to do so, too.

 

Five

“Married?” Miss Ophelia Dantry demanded later that afternoon when Leonora divulged the news of her engagement to her two closest friends. “Why on earth would you agree to such a thing, Leonora? You have so much autonomy now without being bothered with the burden of a husband.”

“Not everyone is as opposed to the married state as you are, Fee,” Lady Hermione Upperton said with a roll of her eyes. “To hear you tell it, marriage is a prison for any woman who enters into it. Regardless of the amiability of her husband.”

“Since the marriage will never take place,” Leonora assured her friends, “then the matter is neither here nor there. It is merely a ruse to ensure that I am able to gain entrance to the world of the Lords of Anarchy. Though I can assure you both that even if I had to marry Lord Frederick Lisle to find out who killed my brother, I would do it.”

She and Freddy had agreed to keep their pact a secret, but she trusted her friends implicitly. “But Frederick?” Ophelia demanded. “After he treated you so abominably the last time you were betrothed?”

The three ladies had been friends since attending the same finishing school the year they made their debuts in society. Now, some five years later, all three were considered to be firmly on the shelf by most hostesses of the
ton,
but none of them minded. Ophelia had learned firsthand how miserable marriage could be from her mother's unhappy union to her father and was determined to escape the state herself. Hermione had yet to find a gentleman who was comfortable with a lady who was more nimble with the reins than he was. And though Leonora said it was because of her aversion to being ordered about by another man, her true reason was the same that had kept her from marrying Freddy before. Her inability to bear children.

Despite her own misgivings about her temporary arrangement with Freddy, though, Leonora was not quite willing to let Ophelia question it. “I have made my decision, Ophelia,” she said firmly. “I know your feelings on the matter of marriage. I even agree with you on many points, but despite what you think of him, Frederick is an honorable man. What happened between us before was entirely my own fault. No matter what you might have heard.”

“We are simply worried for you, Nora,” Hermione said with a speaking look in Ophelia's direction that Leonora could not help seeing. “The last time the two of you broke things off you were not yourself for … some time.”

She left unspoken the fact that Leonora had come close to such soul-crushing despair that her friends had feared for her life. For a moment Leonora wanted more than anything to confide her grief to her two greatest friends in the world. But though she knew they would be the last people to find her wanting, it was her own shame that kept her silent on the matter.

“I do know, my dears,” she said now, taking her friends' hands in her own. “And do not for one moment think that I am not appreciative of your concern. But you must allow me to do what I think right. And in this case, that means this alliance with Freddy.”

“I suppose you know what is best,” Ophelia groused, though it was clear from her expression that she wasn't so sure. “I do wish you'd have chosen someone else for this ruse, however. He's so very high-handed.”

“Though quite handsome,” Hermione said with a giggle. “I always thought so. And he can be quite amusing, even you must admit, Fee.”

“Amusement will be the furthest thing from my mind, I'm afraid,” Leonora said, relieved that her friends seemed to be reconciled to the situation. She would do what she must, but it would be easier to embark upon the investigation into her brother's death knowing that she had the support of her dearest friends. “As you know, Jonathan was one of Freddy's oldest friends, and he is just as convinced as I am that the Lords of Anarchy had something to do with Jonny's death.”

“If they were the least bit willing to behave like civilized creatures and allow ladies into their ranks,” Hermione said, pouring herself another cup of tea, “then I might have investigated things a bit, as well.”

“I doubt sincerely that they would be willing to change their name to the Lords and Ladies of Anarchy,” Ophelia said wryly. “And honestly, I am shocked that the crown has allowed them to go about calling themselves the Lords of Anarchy given how unsettled things still are over what happened in France only a matter of years ago. England might not be as ripe for revolution as France was, but it must give the government pause to have a group that uses the term ‘anarchist,' even in jest, to walk the streets.”

“If the members weren't all quite happy enjoying the benefits of coming from the finest families in England, I think you'd be right,” Leonora said with a sigh. “But despite the name they seem more likely to wage war on a keg of ale than the crown.”

“True enough,” Hermione agreed. “I daresay the prince recalls his own cronies' days with the Four Horse Club with fondness. Now there was a group of true driving aficionados. And they allowed ladies into their midst.”

“I am quite familiar with the FHC,” Leonora said with a smile. “Between you and Jonny I believe I could recite their history from memory.”

“Please don't,” Ophelia said with a moue of distaste. “If I have to hear the Tommy Ounslow rhyme again I will expire right here at the tea table.”

“Ha-ha,” Hermione said, frowning. To Leonora she said, “Tell us how you and Freddy mean to go about your investigation.”

Grateful that her friends had chosen not to engage in the quarrel that seemed to hover just beneath the surface, Leonora said, “Well, Freddy and I will announce our betrothal in the papers, and in the meantime he will do what he can to gain the confidence of his cousin Sir Gerard Fincher.”

“Better him than you,” Hermione said fiercely. “Despite my desire to gain entry into the Lords of Anarchy, I cannot like Sir Gerard in the least. He always seems to be agreeable, but the smile never reaches his eyes.”

“His wife is nearly as cold,” Leonora said with shiver. “And unfortunately it's she I'll need to befriend if I'm to gain any information about Jonny's last days within the group. She was quite fond of him from what I recall of his stories of the goings-on within the club. He always spoke of her kindly, at least. And he told me how she took his side against her husband once.”

“They tend not to move in our circles, though,” Ophelia said. “I do know that she is quite fond of her little dog. I have seen her with him in the park any number of times. I wonder if that might be a way for you to befriend her, Leonora.”

“Moppet does enjoy a walk in the park from time to time,” Leonora said thoughtfully, referring to her father's spaniel, who spent most of his time lazing by the fire. She wasn't sure if he did enjoy the park, but before the week was out, she vowed, she would learn the answer. “An excellent idea, Fee. I will simply have to take him there.”

Before her friends could respond, Leonora's maid appeared in the doorway. “An invitation has arrived, miss. By special messenger.”

While Ophelia and Hermione looked on, Leonora unfolded the missive to read it.

“Well?” Hermione demanded. “What is it?”

“An invitation to a small gathering at the home of Sir Gerard and Lady Fincher tomorrow evening,” Leonora said with a grin. “It seems, ladies, that I have chosen the right companion for my investigation. In less than four hours, Freddy has managed to get us an invitation into the lion's den.”

It remained to be seen, however, whether the creature would bare his teeth.

Leonora rather thought he would.

*   *   *

As soon as her friends left, Leonora, feeling restless, wandered upstairs. Rather than stopping to enter her own rooms, she continued down the hallway toward the wing that housed her brother's rooms.

An intensely private person, Jonathan had never once invited his sister into his bedchamber, though as a girl in the schoolroom she'd once picked the lock and explored it on her own. To her disappointment she'd found nothing more scandalous than a packet of cheroots. But she couldn't inform her father of her findings for fear of revealing how she'd discovered them.

Now that he was gone, however, Leonora had spent quite a bit of time there. Trying to get closer somehow to the brother she'd lost.

With the knowledge of Jonny's death heavy on her heart, Leonora turned the knob of the door and was once again sad to find it unlocked. Now that Jonny was gone there was no one to guard his room from prying eyes. It was another sad reminder that he was not coming back, no matter how she wished it.

Her gown rustled against the carpets as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Jonny's valet, Chesterton, had left only a few days after his master's death, and the rooms had not been tidied in his absence. Hurrying to the window, Leonora opened the heavy drapes, letting the wan afternoon sunlight into the darkened chamber. What she saw, however, provoked a gasp.

Someone had ransacked the room.

Everywhere she looked, drawers hung open, their contents spilling out over the edges onto the floor. Jonathan's writing desk, which Leonora knew from her earlier explorations of the room had been kept in regimented order, now looked as if it had been assailed by a strong wind. Papers and wax and seals and letters which had all been kept in their own little cubbies were scattered across the desk's surface and over the floor. A bottle of ink had been carelessly flung aside, its contents having dripped onto the carpet below, now nearly dried.

Whoever had done this must have done it recently, Leonora thought, a chill running through her. Both she and her father had paid visits to the chamber on learning of his death—as if some vestige of him remained there to whom they might say their good-byes.

And when Leonora received the letter posted to her by her brother's solicitor, she'd come here to search for the documents in the safe. The safe which was now missing from the wardrobe where it had been hidden.

She'd wondered if the room had been searched thoroughly when the documents were stolen, though that time it had been pristine except for the open wardrobe. Now, however, it was in shambles.

Had the same person who'd taken the documents come back looking for more? And if so, what? Jonathan's letter had implied that the items in the safe were all he kept of import in his bedchamber. But the second search indicated otherwise.

Collapsing into a wing chair before the fire, Leonora scanned the chamber, her mind exploring the ramifications of her discovery.

Her suspicion thus far had been that the Lords of Anarchy had arranged for Jonathan to be killed during his ill-considered race. But she'd not had any notion of what the reason might be. Aside, that is, from his note mentioning that he knew something incriminating about Sir Gerard Fincher.

The fact that someone had come looking again seemed to indicate that there was more than one person involved in the secret he'd uncovered. And, perhaps, that some other item or paper was missing that the mysterious intruder suspected Jonathan of having stolen.

A quick glance had revealed that her brother's collection of jeweled stickpins remained intact, though they'd been scattered across the carpet before the wardrobe where their case had been kept. So, it was clearly not money the culprit was after.

The thoroughness of the disarray seemed to indicate to Leonora that whoever had done the searching had not discovered what he was looking for. Otherwise, he'd have stopped as soon as he'd found it. Wouldn't he?

“Jonny,” she said aloud, shaking her head in bewilderment. “What were you involved with?”

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