“My wife would wonder at my disappearance after a while.”
Will raised his eyebrows. “Would she? I think not, given your treatment of her.”
“Why have you dragged me all the way out here?” Glenville demanded.
“We need to talk, you and I.”
“We couldn’t have done that in town?”
Will looked around. “You know where we are?”
“A few miles outside of London.”
He dipped his head in acknowledgement. “Three to be exact.”
Glenville huffed a breath of frustration. “I don’t care if we’re a hundred miles from London.”
“You might.” Will clasped his hands behind his back and rocked back on his heels. “I wasn’t pleased when I heard how you neglect your wife.”
“You know nothing of my wife.”
“I know a great deal. Her name is Kate. She is eighteen years of age. You’ve been married six months.” He held up his hand as Glenville started to interrupt. “I was asked not to interfere, and I agreed. Until now.”
“What the hell does that mean, ‘until now’?” His lordship took a step forward.
Patrick and Fingers moved toward him. Will checked their movement with a slight gesture of his hand. “I agreed to...” He paused, searching for the right words.
“Stay out of my marriage,” Glenville finished.
Will stared at him, hoping the hatred he felt showed in his eyes. “Allow you to live.”
Glenville gave a harsh bark of laughter. “Is that the purpose of this meeting? To persuade me to bow to my wife’s every whim by issuing meaningless threats?”
“You don’t seem to know me very well. I suggest you remedy that. Keep in mind all rumours have a basis in fact.”
The earl glanced at Fingers as he stood near the coach, still and silent. Transferring his attention back to Will, he stepped to the right.
Will quirked his lips into a slight smile. “You may prove to be a better adversary than I first thought, so I will tell you this. Provide for your wife’s needs and all will be well. If you do not…” He let the sentence trail off.
“My wife has a home that is the envy of every woman of the
Ton
, food to eat, clothing. What more does she want? Money to waste on fripperies? I provide everything she needs.”
“Do you?” Will glanced at Fingers and nodded.
The other man moved forward, pistol still in hand, and aimed at the earl’s chest. “Take off your coat.”
“And if I refuse?”
“Then Fingers will shoot you, and we will still take the coat,” Will said in a conversational tone as though he was discussing nothing more important than the weather.
“Fingers?” Glenville asked.
“That’d be me.” Fingers cocked the pistol. “The coat.”
“Bloody hell.” Glenville shrugged out of the heavy greatcoat. “I don’t see the point in all this.” He threw the coat at Patrick.
“You will.” Will moved closer. “Now your frock coat and waistcoat.”
Glenville shook his head. “I think not.”
Will waved Patrick forward. “The earl needs some assistance.”
“No, that kind of help I don’t need.” Glenville took off the garments and glared at Will. “You’ll have to kill me because I’m removing no more of my clothes.”
Will gave him a long look. “Are you aware your
wife
is without a proper wardrobe? That she is forced to go about in shoes that aren’t fit for a ballroom much less the streets, but yet you have a heavy coat and a pair of shiny Hessians.”
He moved toward the coach. “Let’s be off. A tankard of ale and a warm fire awaits.”
Patrick murmured his agreement, scooped the earl’s discarded clothing from the frozen grass, and headed toward the coach. Only Fingers remained as he was.
“Thank God,” Glenville breathed.
Will turned back. “Not you. You’ll be walking back to London.”
“Walking! Are you out of your bloody mind? You’ve left me in my shirtsleeves, and we’re miles from town. You can’t expect me to walk about without being properly attired in this weather.”
Will felt his jaw harden. “I do. As you do your wife.”
“I didn’t know she needed those things you mentioned,” Glenville whined.
“You are her husband; it is your duty to know.”
“If you leave me here, I’ll see you and your cohorts in Newgate for this.”
Will laughed. The high and mighty members of Society always thought the law would help them.
Fingers moved to his side. “Ye sure ya be wantin’ ta do this? He’s an earl.”
“Perhaps you should listen to him,” Glenville said.
“’Tis verra cold and three miles will be long.” Fingers waved Patrick forward, Glenville’s things still in his grasp.
Will stared at the earl for a long moment. “You’re right.”
He turned away and headed for the coach. “Take his boots.”
****
“Mr. William Prescott to see you, milord.”
Will stood behind the butler with tightly held patience. He didn’t understand why the butler needed to announce him. Hargrove was expecting him after all.
“Good. Show him in.”
He took a step forward as the butler moved to the side.
“Simmons,” Hargrove called.
“Yes, milord?”
“Did Mr. Prescott arrive via the servants’ entrance?”
“Yes, he did,” Will said before the butler could respond.
“Thank you, Simmons. That will be all.” The Earl of Hargrove compressed his mouth into a thin line as Will moved into the room.
Taking stock of Hargrove, he was surprised to see the old man looked younger than when they first met months ago. His hair was still gray and thinning, but his eyes were no longer filled with sadness, but expectancy. Though still gaunt, Hargrove’s frame had filled out, and the air of haunted misery no longer clung to him like a shroud.
The earl waited until Simmons closed the door, affording them privacy. “Did I not tell you to come to the front door? How am I, and whatever cachet my name still carries, going to give you respectability if you insist on using the servants’ entrance.”
“I’ve lived this long without respectability—”
“Only through the grace of God,” Hargrove muttered.
“I won’t start chasing after it now,” Will finished, ignoring the earl’s comment.
“You had better if we are to succeed. Without respectability and a sponsor, you’ll never infiltrate the higher circles of society. That is what you want, isn’t it?” Hargrove eyed him with speculation. “Or have you given up your search?”
“I’ll never give up. Not until I find her.”
“You believe your sister still lives then?”
Will nodded, unable to force words passed the feelings of guilt and failure constricting his throat.
“Good. We made a bargain, you and I, and I expect you to stand by your word.”
“And I told you, I will not get involved in the marriages of the
Ton,
yet you still manage to involve me.” He prowled the room. He took in the rich velvet drapery, the lush carpet beneath his feet, the books with their crisp leather bindings lining the walls of the library, the highly polished furniture.
He hated coming here. He felt out of place, as though he was a lad back in the streets begging every rich nabob that happened by for a coin. He’d accomplished much since then, but coming here...it all seemed to melt away. He was back to begging. Not for money this time, but for something much more important—information.
“Is it done then?” Hargrove asked, his voice quiet.
“Aye.”
“The answer is ‘yes,’ not ‘aye,’” Hargrove snapped. “You’ve spoken without a poor man’s cant since I met you. Now is not the time to revert to it. If you are to infiltrate the
Ton
, you must look and sound as they do.”
“Yes, my lord,” Will said with a touch of belligerence as he sketched a mocking bow.
Hargrove sighed. “I apologize. That remark was unkind. I understand how important this is to you...and I owe you a great debt I can truly never repay.”
Will waved away the apology. “You owe me nothing. I failed to save your daughter.” Clenching his jaw, he forced the memory of Althea Hargrove’s bruised and battered body away.
“You brought her home to me. I will always be grateful to you for that. I take a small measure of comfort in knowing she was at least laid to rest with a proper burial.” The older man rubbed his forehead and subsided into an oxblood club chair near the fire. “Kate has left. She insisted on going back to the overstuffed mushroom. She feels Glenville will change now.”
Will tried to control his laughter given the nature of their conversation, but failed miserably. He was still chuckling as he took a seat across from the earl. “You rich blokes certainly have a strange way of insulting each other. A mushroom?”
“What would you call him?” the earl asked, clearly intrigued with the seamier side of his friend’s life.
Remembering what his mother and sister suffered at the hands of his stepfather, Will sobered. “An abusive bastard.”
Hargrove nodded and gazed into the fire, his expression pensive.
“Is she aware of what was done?” Will asked.
“No. I told her I would take care of it.” Hargrove turned toward him, his eyes full of questions. “What exactly did you do to him?”
Will quickly related his encounter with Glenville, how the earl was divested of his clothes and left to walk back to London.
Hargrove guffawed, wiping away tears of mirth. “I wish I had been present.” He laid his handkerchief on the arm of his chair with sudden concern. “You can’t be tied to the incident, can you?”
“It was dark, but it doesn’t matter. His lordship’s clothing and boots were wrapped in his tailor’s boxes and delivered to his townhouse the next morning. He can hardly claim to have been robbed when the items taken were returned.”
The old earl smiled. “And given his self-importance, I doubt he’ll be sharing the experience with his cronies. No matter how he tries to tell the tale, he’ll come out looking like a coward.” He leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “I only hope it will help Kate.”
“I left him with a warning to provide for his wife.” Will paused. “He will receive another, more painful lesson if it becomes necessary.”
“Are you ready for your debut at the Riverton Ball?” Hargrove asked, changing the subject almost as though he didn’t want to acknowledge just what Will was capable of.
“There may be a problem.”
The older man sat forward in his chair. “But you said you couldn’t be tied to the Glenville incident.”
“No, I said it wouldn’t matter if I were. He suffered no harm, and nothing was stolen. There are no charges to be held against me.” Will rubbed his jaw. “The problem is a woman.”
Hargrove grinned. “Aren’t they all?”
Will didn’t smile back. The situation was too serious, too important. “She is asking questions. Questions about Lazarus.”
“Perhaps she is a young woman in need of his help,” the earl offered.
“No. It was just the opposite I’m afraid. I’d been injured—”
“Injured?”
“Shot.”
“Shot! Good lord, my boy. When? How?”
“Nearly a week ago. How doesn’t matter. What does matter is Olivia St. Germaine is now asking questions. Questions that could cause a great deal of trouble.”
“St. Germaine? Sir Philip’s sister?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know about her brother? What we suspect him of?”
Will shook his head. “No. Fingers and I made a few comments to gauge her reaction. She defended him. One would think the man was the closest thing to God walking among us the way she carried on about him and his fervent dedication to those wounded in battle.”
“It will be a shame when she learns the truth.”
“I’m not interested in whether she learns the truth.”
Hargrove stood and paced in front of the fireplace. “What can we do?” He stopped in mid-step. “I forbid you to harm her. She’s innocent in all of this.”
“You forbid?” Will said in a quiet voice as he leaned forward in the chair. Those who knew him, knew when he became quiet was when he was most dangerous.
The earl took a step back. “Perhaps ‘forbid’ was the wrong choice of word.”
Acknowledging the unspoken apology with a nod, Will leaned against the smooth leather seatback. “She’ll come to no harm from me.” A smile quirked at the corner of his mouth. “She doesn’t heed threats very well.”
“You threatened her?” Hargrove’s voice shook with outrage.
“I would never hurt a woman. You, of all people, should know that.”
“Yes, of course. But what of your...friends?”
“Neither she nor any other woman will ever come to harm by my men or by my command.”
“Perhaps I should speak to her.”
“Not necessary.” He rose and crossed to the door. “Contact me in the usual manner once arrangements are made for the Riverton Ball.”
“I’ve already accepted the invitation and let it be known I will be bringing a guest. The only arrangement that needs to be made is where to have my coach pick you up.” The earl moved to the center of the room. “Why isn’t it necessary?”
“I’m rather certain I succeeded in frightening her off.” Will opened the door and walked into the vast marble hall.
“How?” Hargrove rushed after him.
Will took his coat from the waiting footman and shrugged into it. “She now knows how dangerous it is to attract my attention.”
“How?” Hargrove repeated. The word was little more than a squeak.
Will smiled. His friend seemed as nearly outraged as Miss St. Germaine had been, though she had had the more wicked tongue of the two. He still bled at her parting remarks. Though she didn’t know it, he had had Harry follow her home from the warehouse to ensure she arrived safely. His smile faded. She had found the one weakness in him. His regret for what he could not change.
He signaled to the footman to open the front door and turned to go.
“William?”
“Do not worry so, my lord,” he said in a mocking tone. “It was what proper women fear most.”
“And that is?”
“A kiss from someone like me.”
He left the townhouse without a second glance and disappeared into the darkness, regret weighing a little more heavily than usual.