“Here I thought it was Lady Gilham you’d be concentrating on,” she said, looking at him archly. “Since she’s so very attractive, I mean.”
Belami’s hand went around her neck, his fingers stroking her throat as he pulled her toward him. She looked into his smoldering black eyes and felt a shiver course through her. His lips touched hers, a brushing touch. A sensation like an electrical charge jolted through her, and suddenly his arms were around her, pulling her mercilessly against him, while he kissed her with passion.
“Why should I be interested in that hussy when I’ve got you?” he asked, his voice husky.
She pulled reluctantly away and patted her hair, with a prim face from which a pair of excited gray eyes betrayed her tumult. “We’ll know more about Lady Gilham tomorrow when Réal gets back from London,” she said, trying for an air of calmness.
“It hardly matters who she is. She has the damned letters and enough royal artifacts to open a museum. She must be handled. I’ll speak to Prinney or McMahon tomorrow and outline her demands. My own instinct is to break in and steal the lot.”
“I worry about your instincts, Dick,” she said, shaking her head.
“Well you might! But it’s a different instinct you should be concerned with right now,” he cautioned, pulling her back into his arms. After a friendly battle, she extricated herself and flew upstairs, tiptoed past her aunt’s door to her own room, where the duchess sat on the end of her bed with her arms crossed and a scowl on her face.
“There is no need to inquire where you have been,” her aunt said.
“I was just having a—a word with Dick,” she said with a convulsive swallow.
“You will have no more words of that sort with him. I know what stains your face scarlet, my gel, and it ain’t innocent chitchat. Allowing yourself to be bundled like a common pantry maid. I was about to go in and haul you out by the ear, when I heard you running away from him. What was he up to, eh?”
“Just saying good night,” Deirdre replied, as red as her aunt had described her color.
Such an infraction of the rules should have been good for an hour’s scold and would have been, but at the moment the duchess had a different subject. It was an interest in Smythe that had brought her forth.
“What does Belami feel are Smythe’s chances of proving himself?” she asked curtly.
“He thinks Smythe is a scoundrel and means to prove it,” Deirdre answered promptly.
“If the prince accepts Smythe and manages to establish him in some sort of position without bringing on a revolution, Smythe would be a good gentleman to know. We shan’t alienate him. We shall be polite, just in case. What are your feelings toward Smythe?”
“My feelings?” Deirdre asked, surprised. “I don’t have any.”
“What, no feelings about an inordinately handsome young gentleman of royal blood? You’re a cold minx, indeed!”
“How should I have any feelings for a perfect stranger?”
“Ninny!” The duchess’s beaked face lunged toward her. “Don’t you see the possibilities inherent in this situation? I’ve been raking it over, and Maria Fitzherbert just might pull the thing off. If this lad is Prinney’s son, and if he can get his marriage to Fitzherbert legalized, you’re looking at the next king of England! How would you like to be his lady, eh? Not bad for a chit that never had a beau to her name till I tricked Belami into offering. Smythe has got an eye for you, Deirdre. Several times this evening I saw him gazing at you most fondly. Oh, discreetly, but fondly. It’s a long chance, but when you get to be my age, you’ll know long chances can pay off handsomely. Life is full of surprises. That’s the only thing I can say for sure after eighty-plus years on this dull old planet. It’s the surprises that make it worthwhile.” Her voice had faded to a wistful tone seldom heard before.
“He hasn’t a chance in a thousand.”
“He has scarcely a chance in a million. I’m not a fool. I don’t intend to turn Belami off, but that’s not to say you can’t roll your eyes a little at Smythe at the same time. Lord, most girls can juggle half a dozen men at a time. Why must I get stuck with a slowtop like you? What we shall do is remove from Belami’s house. In a perfectly friendly way, but we shall move and share an apartment for the next month or so. It is clear as glass the excitement will be in Brighton this winter, and I don’t know that I want to be worried night and day that Belami is sneaking you off to dark corners to misbehave.” This was actually a part of her reason, but only a small part.
“Think of the expense, Auntie,” Deirdre said, knowing this would be a strong inducement to remain where they were.
“I have thought of it! It’s been bothering me greatly, but, by God, it’s worth the expense. I shall contact Mr. Nailer, the real estate agent, and see what he has up for hire.”
She went to her room and scanned the local paper that same night, to have an idea what price was reasonable or at least being demanded. It must be a handsome apartment, and hang the expense. Spend a sprat to catch a mackerel, for after all the future queen of England could not hang her hat in just any old pair of rooms to let.
Belami knew McMahon would precede the prince to Brighton to have everything ready for him. He went to the Pavilion right after breakfast the next morning to meet McMahon in private. And with nothing to hamper her activities, the duchess went trotting down to Nailer to be shown possible places to let. There was no difficulty in the off season. The duchess, a famous haggler, struck an excellent bargain on a tidy little cottage. It was a coincidence, and a stroke of luck, that the place formerly hired by Mrs. Fitzherbert herself should be vacant. It was a cottage practically at the back door of the Royal Pavilion, behind the Castle Inn. Two servants were living in and included in the lease. She darted back to Marine Parade and had her bags packed that instant.
“Where are we going? Auntie, what will Dick think?” Deirdre asked, astonished at the speed of the removal.
“Let him think what he likes,” the duchess said recklessly. “Of more importance is to notify Mr. Smythe of our change of address. Naturally we must let Belami know as well—you take care of it, Deirdre. So fortunate I haven’t sent in the betrothal notice to any of the papers yet. I shall leave my card at the Pavilion this very day. Prinney will doubtless be entertaining on a grand scale. I have decided to support him, Deirdre. Even if he doesn’t succeed, he’ll never forget our loyalty. This is the chance of a lifetime.” There was a blaze of fire in her faded eyes and something strangely resembling a grin on her cadaverous countenance.
Deirdre ranted against the scheme, but in vain. She worried about what Dick would think of this infamous insult, running away from his home as if he were a monster. He was proud, and worse, he was susceptible to other women. Lady Gilham, for instance, might yet ensnare him. On the other hand, she could hardly remain unchaperoned in a bachelor’s house. She left a note of apology and jumbled explanation, but she knew he had been insulted in a way that wouldn’t be easy to forgive. The duchess knew it, too, and fully expected a stony silence from the troublesome baron who had managed to gain her approval. She counted on his infatuation with Deirdre to bring him back to heel if the prince failed to legitimize George Smythe.
The cottage she hired had fallen into a little disrepair, and bringing it to rights took up the remainder of her morning. Her only other occupation was to drop her card off at the Royal Pavilion.
While all this was going forth, Belami, all unaware, paid his call on Colonel McMahon and laid before him his findings and suspicions.
“Is it possible this Captain Stack might be instrumental? What do you know of his history?” Belami asked.
“Damn all,” McMahon said bluntly. “I hadn’t clapped an eye on him for twenty or thirty years. I didn’t recognize him till he approached me at the Old Ship. He spoke with some familiarity of other officers I do know, so I had no reason to suspect him. I’ll have the army trace him for us. I’m more interested in this ring with the lock of hair in it. I didn’t notice any such ring on young Smythe. He must have worn it the last evening when he was alone with the Prince. But where did he get it? Even to have it made, he’d have to know the story,” McMahon said, frowning.
“It wasn’t a new ring; it was worn smooth around the edges.”
“Not by Fitzherbert, if she lost it shortly after it was given to her,” McMahon pointed out. “You said Smythe had been in London. I seem to recall Stack was also there last autumn. He was complaining of the price of accommodations. They didn’t speak as if they had known each other long when I met them at the Old Ship,” he added doubtfully.
“They wouldn’t, would they, if they meant to conceal they were in league?’’ Belami pointed out.
“How would he know about the private doings of the prince and Mrs. Fitzherbert? No, if an older person is behind it, it would more likely be a woman who knew all the gossip. I wonder if Stack has a wife,’’ he added, rubbing his chin. “I’ll have that looked into from his army records.”
“My friend Pilgrim is in London inquiring into Smythe’s alleged background with a friend from Ottery,” Belami mentioned.
‘‘Pronto Pilgrim?” the colonel asked, aghast. “That’s risky business. I wouldn’t have taken him into my confidence for all the tea in China.”
“I didn’t know he was coming to Brighton, but he had registered at the Old Ship and has been helpful,” Belami said.
“Did you hear we’ve found Fitzherbert?” McMahon asked.
“No, where was she?’’
“She’s gone to Bath visiting friends. The Prince Regent has posted off another missive—God knows whether she’ll heed it, but I sent a man I trust as well, with orders to see her in person if he has to climb in her bedroom window at night to accomplish it. And even then we may be hopping from the frying pan into the fire if she supports Smythe’s story. The brouhaha in the House of Parliament will be something for the history books if she does. They’ll be debating the Royal Marriage Act and the Act of Settlement and probably the Prince Regent’s sanity as well. A pity there isn’t an act prohibiting such folly as we see here. We live in interesting times, Belami.”
“Yes, and will heap the rewards of the old Chinese curse, I fear.”
“He’s invited Smythe to the Pavilion for a private dinner this evening. God only knows what new nonsense will come of it. I never took young Smythe for a rogue. Not that he’ll look one after all, as he never made any claims of any sort.”
“He makes no claims, but every detail he lets out confirms the story. That broad, frank smile conceals a sly character.”
“Well, I’ll be skulking around corners and trying to waylay Smythe on the way out to see what’s transpired. Prinney scarcely speaks to me nowadays since I have no good to say for his scheme,” McMahon said.
“Keep an eye on him. I mean to take advantage of this short lull to finish with Lady Gilham. She demands five thousand and threatens to open up her museum to the public if she doesn’t get it. No one told me the prince had given her so much domestic stuff. Dishes, silver—and God only knows what in the boudoir.”
McMahon blinked at him. “What the deuce are you talking about? He gave her nothing but a few trinkets, bits and pieces of jewelry and a little money.”
“That’s not her story! No crass lucre sullied her lily white hands. She has her dining table set up with royal china and silverplate. I saw it myself,” Belami insisted.
“By God if she has anything of the sort, she stole it! We’ll have her put into Bridewell,” McMahon declared, his voice rising dangerously.
“She’s got it,” Belami said simply. “And not stolen either, to hear her tell it. What’s to do? It almost seems easiest to pay her off and have done. The other business is more important and needs more time.”
“But if someone can walk out of the Pavilion with anything he cares to hide under his jacket, we must know about it! Oh, God, is there no end to our troubles? A blackmailing hussy, a fool of a Prince Regent bent on destroying himself and the country, and now a thief,” McMahon said, weary with so much trouble.
“She claims the prince brought it to her. I doubt she’d lie about it, when she knows I’m representing his interests. It might be worthwhile to have someone watch her house in case she’s enlarging her royal collection all the same,” Belami suggested.
“One of your people?”
“I can spare a footman. Meanwhile, what do I tell her about the money? She’s hellbent on making mischief. It’s not wise to turn her down flat. Why don’t I say I’m pressing her case, let her hope for the five thousand till we get a better line on her?’’ Belami said.
“Yes, you can tell her the prince is coming to Brighton and that you’ll urge him to be generous. That might hold her hand for a few days and give us time to think of something,” McMahon agreed.
“If all else fails, we can steal the loot back,” Belami added, looking sharply to see if this was out of line.
“The prince could not be involved in such a caper,” McMahon said sternly, but there was a smile lurking behind the frown. ‘‘Which is not to say Lord Belami need cavil at stealing from a thief,” he added. “I’m eager to see the affair finished.”
‘‘It’s an easy ken to bite—er…”
“I’m familiar with thieves’ cant,” McMahon said with a lazy smile. “How easy?”
“A front door I could open with a piece of wire myself. The objects don’t present a real problem. It’s the letters that concern me. I’m not sure where she keeps them—in her boudoir, I imagine.”
“That shouldn’t prove impenetrable to a gentleman like yourself,” McMahon suggested.
‘‘I’d prefer to get them by some other method,” Belami said reluctantly.
“Is it true you’re on the edge of an engagement to Charney’s young niece then?” McMahon asked.
“Over the edge, but it hasn’t been announced publicly yet. The old aunt is a high stickler for the proprieties,” Belami said, then frowned. “I have a man in London looking into the history Gilham gave me. No doubt it’s a bag of moonshine, but it had to be checked into.”
“Have we decided what course to follow for the present at least? You’ll return to Gilham’s place today and hold out some hope of getting the sum she demands, and I’ll see what I can learn of Captain Stack in London. Meanwhile, you can plan to bite the ken.”