A Good Rake is Hard to Find (8 page)

Whatever it was, she thought, rising with a renewed sense of determination, she meant to find out.

She briefly considered asking one of the maids to come assist her in putting the room back together, but something stopped her. And moving from mess to mess, she tidied the room of a brother who would never come through the doorway again.

She was placing the books that had been dumped out of their neatly arranged rows on the built-in bookcase, when her hand brushed against a protrusion along the underside of the second shelf. Curious, she ran her fingers along the wood and with her heartbeat quickening she realized it was a lever. With shaking fingers, she pulled the metal arm toward her and, with a click, a recess was revealed in the back of the shelf.

Not stopping to consider the consequences of putting her hand into a darkened cubby, Lenora reached in and pulled out what looked to be a journal, and a faded length of crimson ribbon.

This was it, she thought, glancing around the empty room, as if someone were there to take the hidden treasure from her. This was what the intruder had been looking for. She knew it with every bit of her heart.

And, because some part of her felt unsafe in her brother's recently searched rooms, she hurried out, shutting the door firmly behind her.

Once she'd reached her own bedchamber, she was relieved to find her maid was elsewhere. Carrying her prize to the chair before the window, she opened the leather-bound volume and saw the first page was inscribed with her brother's name, in his own hand. It was dated April, two years previously.

Her breath coming faster, she began to read.

*   *   *

“That was fast work,” Mainwaring said with a wry grin as he and Freddy drove through the park in the curricle Freddy had borrowed from his brother Archer, who was in the country with his very pregnant new wife. “I sincerely thought Miss Craven would have nothing to do with you. It is a testament to your charm that I have been proved wrong.”

“More a testament to her own desperation to know more about the Lords of Anarchy, I'd say,” Freddy replied as he expertly steered them along the path. A jaunt in the park was something akin to riding a racehorse on a country amble, but though Freddy was comfortable enough behind the reins, Mainwaring was not fond of speed or daring when it came to transportation. So in a nod to the other man's preferences, Freddy was tooling them around the park. “She was none too happy about the engagement, but was convinced of its necessity for her to gain access to Sir Gerard and his coterie of followers.”

“It shows the lady's strength of character,” Mainwaring said with a nod. “That a lady would be willing to risk future marriage prospects—which could mean the difference between a comfortable life and a life of indentured servitude as a poor relation—is admirable.”

“Don't ever let her hear you say that,” Freddy said with a frown. “Leonora has some very strong ideas about ladies and marriage and such. She'll have flayed you alive before you even realize she's made the first cut.”

Mainwaring chuckled. “Don't be absurd, she's a lady, not a mercenary.”

“True enough,” Freddy said with a laugh. “But I promise you she will not take it kindly if you go spouting your views about proper ladies.”

Mainwaring tipped his hat at a barouche carrying three young ladies whom Freddy did not know. He was going to have to ask Leonora to school him on the makeup of the
ton
since his return from the Continent.

“Miss Fotheringay, Lady Felicity Mount, and Lady Alice Needham,” Mainwaring supplied as they passed the other carriage. “As silly a group of chits as you'll ever meet, but pretty enough.”

“I should have known you'd have wrangled introductions to all the ladies fresh from the schoolroom, Mainwaring,” Freddy said, rolling his eyes. Mainwaring had always been quick to discover the names of all the eligible beauties in a room. Why shouldn't he be able to do the same with the whole of the
ton
?

“There's nothing wrong with knowing one's enemies,” Mainwaring said unrepentantly. “And those three are particularly dangerous, as they've been on the town for a couple of years now without bringing anyone up to scratch. I shouldn't be surprised if one of them traps some unlucky fellow into an engagement before the season is out. Or, if not them, then their desperate mamas. For I'm not sure the girls are clever enough for it.”

“You really are heartless, aren't you?” Freddy asked with mock disapproval. “How can you deprive those poor girls of the honor of becoming the next Lady Mainwaring? It's positively cold of you.”

“I don't see you offering yourself as the sacrificial lamb for slaughter,” his companion said without remorse.

“That is because I've already convinced a clever young lady to be my bride,” Freddy said, grinning. “Even if it is a false engagement for the time being, it protects me from the dangers of being a single man amid all these husband huntresses.”

Mainwaring shook his head. “Back to Miss Craven. What do you intend to do when the two of you attend your cousin's soiree tomorrow evening? You can hardly search his house, or interview the other members of the club under Sir Gerard's very nose. And I shouldn't think that Miss Craven, for all her cleverness, will come right out and ask the fellow whether he murdered her brother.”

“Hardly,” Freddy returned, his expression sobering. “I am hoping that once Gerard introduces me as the replacement for Jonathan Craven in the club, I'll be able to determine if any of the other club members are feeling the least bit uneasy about Craven's death. After all, they were likely his friends as well as Gerard's. It simply remains to be seen if they are more fearful of Gerard or loyal to Jonny. Unfortunately I suspect that fear of Gerard will win out.”

“Gerard is alive to threaten them,” Mainwaring agreed. “And it's likely that whatever loyalty they felt for Jonathan died with him. A bird in the hand—or is that the devil you know? Whatever the axiom, Gerard is alive and capable of murder. Jonny is not.”

“Precisely,” Freddy agreed. “Which is why I'll need to be subtle about my inquiries. The last thing I want is for my cousin to suspect right off the mark that my reasons for joining his club have anything to do with Jonathan's death.”

“Have you discussed this with Leonora?” Mainwaring asked, as they left the park and headed back toward Mayfair. “I seem to recall that subtlety is not her most admirable trait.”

Freddy winced. “Not quite yet. I'm still working on my strategy. One cannot simply tell her what to do. In addition to her forthrightness, she also is as stubborn as a mule.”

“Better you than me, old fellow,” Mainwaring said with a grin. “Better you than me.”

 

Six

The next morning, Leonora sat down at the breakfast table, unable to stifle a yawn.

“Not sleeping well, my dear?” her father asked, biting into a piece of toast. “Perhaps you should have Mrs. Thompson mix you up one of her tisanes. They always seemed to help your mama.”

Leonora cursed inwardly at her inability to hide her sleep deprivation. She'd been up most of the night reading her brother's journal. And unfortunately, its contents, while fascinating, had not contained the revelation about the reason for his death that she'd hoped to discover. Though there had been something she wished to show to Freddy as soon as she could.

“I'll do that, Papa,” she said aloud, accepting the cup of tea the footman had just poured for her. “Though perhaps I will wait and see if I can sleep without it tonight. After the gathering at Sir Gerard Fincher's home this evening, I have little doubt I'll be exhausted.”

Her father's salt-and-pepper brows drew together, and he set down the newspaper he'd been perusing. “Sir Gerard Fincher?” he asked, his displeasure evident. “You're going to a social evening at that blackguard's home? Why is this the first I've heard of it?”

“It's not as if I've been in the habit of telling you about my every social engagement, Papa,” Leonora said with a frown of her own. “You'd find that just as tedious as I would.”

She'd always exercised more autonomy than most unmarried young ladies she knew, but Leonora thought that had been because she'd displayed more maturity than most young ladies of her acquaintance. That and the fact that her aunt Hortense, who most often acted as her companion, was of the opinion that ladies should be afforded more and not less freedom where decisions about their social activities were concerned. Without her aunt's influence, Leonora doubted very much that she'd have embarked on her career as a poet. She'd certainly never have started her weekly salons.

“That is true,” her father responded, still looking peeved, “but I had thought that you would have more sense than to visit the de facto home of the driving club I hold responsible for your brother's death. Sir Gerard Fincher might not have been driving the carriage that killed your brother, Leonora, but it was his club's recklessness, and the sense of competition it fostered, that was responsible for Jonathan's death. Just as surely as if Sir Gerard had shot him with a pistol.”

Though she'd considered her father's disapproval when embarking upon her faux betrothal with Freddy, Leonora had not considered that Mr. Craven would have anything to say about her moving in the same circles as Sir Gerard. She'd been shortsighted she knew now. And would need to tell him at least a partial truth in order to stop him from forbidding her to attend that evening's party at Sir Gerard's home.

“I quite agree, Papa,” she said with candor. “I believe that the Lords of Anarchy are responsible for Jonny's death, too. Which is why I simply must attend this party at Sir Gerard's house tonight.”

Her mind racing as she considered her story, she went on, “Jonny was my twin. And we were closer than most siblings. I simply must understand what it was that led him to join that infernal club. It's the one piece of the puzzle that I don't understand. Because I know Jonny was not easily led. There must have been some reason for him to become involved with those men. And I shan't be able to rest until I know what that reason was.”

Mr. Craven's look of disapproval turned to one of surprise. “Is that what is keeping you awake at night, my dear? I must confess, it hadn't occurred to me that you would wish to speak to Sir Gerard, else I'd have had the fellow brought round immediately. Much as it would pain me to do so.”

“But that's just it, Papa,” Leonora went on. “I need to speak to him in his own home. On his own ground, so to speak. Because he'll be more likely to tell me the truth there. At least that is what I hope.”

“And you have asked Lord Frederick to accompany you,” Mr. Craven said, understanding dawning in his eyes. “I must admit that I do feel better knowing you will be escorted by someone I trust. So long as he is with you, I know that Freddy will not let anything untoward happen to you.”

“Exactly, Papa.” She nodded. “And because Freddy is Sir Gerard's cousin, I think the man will be more likely to tell me the truth. I simply must know what it was about the club's activities that led Jonny to risk his life like that. Even if it is only to learn that he was indebted to someone and needed to win the race for that reason, it will be a reason.” And to her surprise, Leonora realized that she was telling the truth. She might be hiding her pact with Freddy to investigate the reason for Jonny's murder, but she did want those answers for herself. So that she could have some reason to attach to what seemed at this point to be a senseless loss of life.

Mr. Craven, his eyes still troubled, nodded. “I understand, my dear. If you really feel you must visit the home of that vile man, then I shan't stop you. So long as you bring Lord Frederick with you. But I would also like for you to take your aunt Hortense along, as well.”

Leonora bit back a groan. She'd been so close, she thought. “But surely it will be unexceptionable for me to attend an evening entertainment with my betrothed,” Leonora protested aloud. “And as you know, Aunt Hortense does not enjoy soirees. She dislikes that they seem to have no purpose other than seeing and being seen.”

“Well, your aunt will simply be forced to swallow her dislike for one evening,” Mr. Craven said wryly, “because without her you will not be allowed to attend at all.”

“Yes, Papa,” Leonora said with a sigh.

Her father might be liberal about a great many things when it came to her comings and goings, but she knew from experience that once he set his mind to something, he would not be moved.

Now, she thought, she'd best brace herself to break the news to Freddy.

*   *   *

“I cannot imagine why you would choose to attend a party at the home of Sir Gerard Fincher of all people, Leonora,” Aunt Hortense huffed from her perch beside Leonora's dressing table.

Since she had come to think of herself as independent, Leonora had been annoyed at her father for suggesting a chaperone for their visit to the Fincher house, but she supposed if they were to pass within the driving club as authentically engaged, she'd need to follow the proprieties. At least Aunt Hortense was the least demanding of her aunts. A spinster who had spent much of her adult life doing as she pleased, Hortense Craven was a follower of Miss Wollstonecraft, and it had been she who introduced Leonora to the philosophical works of that lady. As such, she was hardly one to consider such foolishness as propriety to be worth her notice. Even so, she had agreed to accompany Leonora each time her niece requested her chaperonage. Which had more to do with Aunt Hortense's soft spot for her family than any innate wish to thumb her nose at society.

Hortense was also quite fond of a good dance, and was quite fond of cards, so Leonora had little doubt that she would make good use of the Finchers' card room.