Clive Pendleton, who had
been standing quietly at Elizabeth's side, apparently unmoved by the sight of
her blatant interest in another man, said briskly, "Well, I'm certain you
will find that there are several farms near Melton Mowbray where you should be
able to buy whatever you desire in the way of horseflesh without any trouble."
Tom, as if struck by a
startling thought, jerked around and said to no one in particular, "Melton
Mowbray!" Then looking at Elizabeth he added, "Your cousin lives near
there,
don't she? Lives very quietly with her
mother?"
Elizabeth nodded and,
disliking the question, said dryly, "Very. She and Rachael are still in
the year's mourning for my uncle." She would have preferred to speak of
something else only Harris, taking a sudden and unexpected interest in the
subject, continued, "Fetching little thing, your cousin Catherine."
"
Oh,
and how do you know that, Harris?" Clive asked curiously.
"Went
to school with my sister Amanda.
Used to take them into town at Bath and buy them
cream cakes."
"I see. How pleasant
for you," Clive said, his tone implying just the opposite. Apparently
feeling enough had been said about the absent Catherine, he raised his voice to
be heard above the noise of the crowd and asked, "Will I see you three at
White's tonight?"
"No. We're spending a
bachelor's evening at Freddy's, playing cards and cracking a bottle or more to
send them properly off on their journey," Jason said. Politely he added,
"Would you care to join us?"
And Clive surprised them
all by saying, "Thank you. I should like to. Freddy, you will have to give
me the time and directions."
Hiding his dismay, Freddy
did so, replying in a voice
pitched
to be heard over
the increasing babble of the many voices nearby. And a few minutes later after
Clive and Elizabeth had drifted
away,
he turned on
Jason and
growled, "Why the devil did you do that? That
sly boots will ruin the entire evening."
"What
else could I do?" Jason replied, adding truthfully, "I certainly
didn't expect him to accept."
"Well,
damn it, he did! And now we're saddled with him," Freddy grumbled.
Jason
shrugged and changing the subject asked Tom, "Shall I stop by for you this
evening?"
Suspiciously,
because Jason had a disconcerting habit of walking unnecessarily, Tom queried,
"You walking— or riding?"
Smiling,
Jason admitted, 'Tom, Freddy lives a bare three blocks away, and if the weather
today is anything to go by, it should be a lovely night, so I shall walk. Won't
you keep me company?"
Decisively
Tom shook his head no. And it was then that Jason again had that peculiar
feeling that someone behind him in the crowd was either staring at him or
listening closely to their conversation. He spun around quickly, but there
appeared to be no one paying any attention to them.
"What
the devil is the matter with you?" Barrymore asked irritably.
"Sorry,"
Jason apologized and added to cover his action, "I just thought of
something I wanted to ask Elizabeth, but I don't see her anywhere."
"Good thing, too!
I
tell you, Jason, you had best travel light with that baggage. She sails close
to the wind and so far hasn't been involved in outright scandal, but it's only
a matter of time until she ruins herself. Stick to Covent Garden bawds for
entertainment and let that little ladybird find someone else to gull,"
warned Barrymore.
Looking
amused, Jason said, "My friend, I am not
so
green
as all that! I have been handling my misalliances with ease for some years
now."
"Thing
is," Tom broke in earnestly, "she gambles!" he said in a voice
of doom.
"Went through her husband's estate in a
twelvemonth.
Her father had to settle her debts and demanded she return
home. Common gossip is that she's after a rich husband."
Gravely,
hiding a twinkle in his green eyes, Jason assured them, "Believe me, I
will take due caution that I do not find myself in the parson's mousetrap with
the likes of Elizabeth Markham."
Not
content with that, Barrymore finished, "You had best step lively, Jas, for
it's obvious she's attracted to you —and your money."
At
the same moment Clive was saying something of a similar nature to Elizabeth.
They were seated comfortably in his tilbury traveling back to London, and Clive
was making no effort to conceal his displeasure. "You were being a bit
obvious, weren't you? All big eyes and pouting mouth," he sneered.
"And
what else was I to do? You said to be agreeable to him," she returned
hotly, her eyes snapping with temper. "If you want me to find out
anything for you, you'll have to let me do it my own way.
He
certainly didn't mind my big eyes and pouting mouth. There was
a time that you found them very appealing I might add, but it's his reaction
I'm worried about—not yours!"
Clive's
thin lips tightened, and he said grimly, "You had better worry about my
reaction, m'dear—I'm paying your bills, remember. Speaking of which—how much
did you drop the other night at Mrs. Everett's?
Five
hundred—a thousand?"
Sulkily
Elizabeth answered, "Over a thousand."
"I
thought as much. Is your father going to cover it?" he asked coolly.
"You
know he won't. Clive, don't be mean! If I don't pay my debts, my father will
send me to rusticate in the country at Mountacre. You know what a storm he created
when he settled my debts the last time. I couldn't bear to go through it again,
and I would die if I had to remain in the country away from all the excitement
in London. God, how I
hate
Mountacre!" she spat venomously. Then she pleaded, "Please, don't be
wicked. I've never failed you before, have I?"
"No.
And see that you don't," he threatened. But then reaching into his side
pocket, he handed her a sizable leather pouch that bulged with gold coins.
"That should hold you for the present. But remember. I want to know what
Savage is up to."
Frowning,
Elizabeth asked. "What makes you think he's up to anything? He's done
nothing but buy horses since he arrived."
Clive
smiled tightly. "Not quite. He paid an extremely prompt visit to Rufus
King, and since that time Roxbury, who is a clever old fox if there ever was
one, has held
at
least one intimate dinner
at which King and Savage were the only guests. I'd give much to know what they
spoke of. My instincts tell me that there's something afoot that Napoleon would
pay dearly to know. And as you well know, I live by my wits—which also enables
me, I might add, to pay you handsomely for the snippets of conversation you
pass my way. You might remember that and try just a little harder to capture
Savage's interest —but not to the extent that everyone knows what you are
doing."
"Oh,
very well.
But I think you're wrong. Savage can't know anything."
"As you say, I could
be wrong, and it wouldn't be the first time. But it is never wise to overlook
any source, and I would like to learn more of Savage before I dismiss him as
harmless."
Conversation lapsed for a
mile or two, and then it was Elizabeth who quizzed slyly, "You talk of my
being obvious. Weren't
you
rather obvious in choking
off Tom Harris when he mentioned Catherine?"
"Not
at all.
I wanted to know where he had met her— and I found out."
"Have you hopes in
that direction, Clive?" Elizabeth asked archly. Not waiting for his
answer, she added smugly, "They're doomed you know. Catherine, or Tamara,
or whatever those beastly gypsies called her, can't abide the sight of
you."
Clive's hands tightened on
the reins he held, but that was the only sign he gave that Elizabeth's shaft
had gone home. His voice was cool as he said, "Catherine's liking of me
has nothing to do with marriage. Rachael finds me acceptable, and I'm quite
certain I can bring Catherine round, one way or another. And if I can't, I'll
see to it that no one else marries her, either. I won't be done out of a
fortune a second time!"
His words seemed to
engender in Elizabeth a feeling of being ill-used, for she cried angrily,
"That infamous, infamous will! Who would have guessed that so little would
come to my
father.
I never realized that the title and
Mountacre were the only items entailed. And now that wretched, wretched gypsy
brat has everything else— the estates in Leicestershire and a fortune to boot!
Why couldn't Uncle Robert have willed something for me? God knows he was rich
enough! And you, his godson, were also ignored. What I couldn't have done with
even a small remembrance from him." She laughed bitterly. "We're a
sorry pair, Clive, expecting all those years to inherit handsomely, and then
that miserable old gypsy woman had to bring Catherine and Adam back. I'd like
to wring her scrawny neck!"
Clive, his face impassive,
said nothing to Elizabeth's outburst, and Elizabeth wondered exactly how deeply
he had been hurt when Catherine Tremayne and her half brother had been returned
to the family. Clive had been, until then, the unacknowledged heir to the
fortune and to find
himself
suddenly usurped by a
black-maned, violet-eyed gypsy brat, must have been a blow. Elizabeth too, had
suffered, for she had been her uncle's darling, something she had worked very
hard to be, until Catherine's return. It still angered her to think of the
money that might have been hers if Catherine, or Adam for that matter, had
remained with the gypsies.
Moodily she said,
"Even Adam came off better than we did. At least Robert deeded him
outright those lands near Natchez."
Looking at her, Clive said
dryly, "
A small fortune too, don't
forget."
"That's what really
bothers you, isn't it, Clive? That Robert saw to Adam's future and ignored
yours. He could have left the Natchez land to you."
"My dear, what my late
godfather did with his money is none of my concern. I admit I was disappointed
when Catherine suddenly reappeared after all those years. But from then until
his death last year, I had plenty of time to grow used to the idea. And as I
intend to marry her, there has only been a slight delay in my plans."
"And
what about me?"
Elizabeth asked angrily.
"I shall of course see
that you are well taken care of —provided that you do as I tell you."
"Like whoring for you
to find out information?" she inquired icily.
"Exactly,
my dear.
It's a role that you fill admirably."
After a cry of outrage from
Elizabeth, there was no more conversation between them. In a foul mood when
Clive parted from her at the Grosvenor Square residence of the earl of Mount,
Elizabeth spent the evening planning and discarding several ugly methods for
Clive's disposal. And while Elizabeth was doing that, Clive was spending the
time playing cards with Jason, Freddy Barrymore and Tom Harris in Barrymore's
rooms.
In spite of Freddy's fears,
the evening passed tolerably well, although it would have been better if Clive
had not been there. It was well after three
a.m.
when the little group
broke up. Harris had become quite intoxicated and was remaining the night with
Freddy. Clive, with a great deal of tact, departed first. After he had left,
Freddy and Jason talked for a few minutes. Jason wished Freddy a pleasant trip
on the morrow, offered hope that Harris's head wouldn't ache too badly, and
left saying that he would see them at Brownleigh's in March.
It was a fine evening, and
Jason had, as planned, walked. The oil street lamps threw golden patches of
light here and there down the empty, narrow streets as he strolled towards St.
James's Street. He was perhaps halfway home when a slight flicker of movement
near a dark alley angling off from the street caught his eye. He was but a few
yards away from it, and his step slowed. Casually he glanced up and down the
deserted street. He was unarmed and cursing under his breath; he wished now
that he had continued to wear a knife hidden under his clothes. He was only
carrying a cane, which would do him little good, if, as he suspected, an
attacker lurked there in the shadows. He considered turning back, but the two
figures slinking swiftly out from the alley anticipated his thought—one moving
to cut off his retreat. Jason's hand went up to the catch of his cloak and unhooking
it carefully, he smiled grimly to himself, thinking a cloak and a cane were not
very adequate weapons against the cudgels the other two probably carried.