Secret Night (25 page)

As Patrick emerged from Newgate into the dreary drizzle, he looked down to where Fortitude and Truth still supported the Recording Angel. Squaring his shoulders, he reflected wearily that he was going to need a great deal of the former to obscure enough truth to exonerate Bat Rand, for in his heart he was certain the old man had lied to him.

Nonetheless, he crossed Newgate Street toward the Bailey resolutely. After he met in chambers with Justice Tate on another matter, he would seek out Peale and try to weasel the man's strategy out of him. And then he would have to beard Dunster about Jane.

"Hamilton! Good to see you!"

Clapping Patrick's shoulder familiarly, the Earl of Dunster guided him toward the formal saloon in the front of the elegant townhouse. As he stepped back to let the younger man pass, the earl motioned to a liveried footman. "Break out my best claret," he ordered. Turning to Patrick, he smiled. "Jane tells me we have something to celebrate, sir."

"Well, I had planned to broach the matter a bit more properly," Patrick admitted.

"No need to stand on ceremony—none at all, I assure you. I've been following your career for years, sir, and I've liked everything I've seen."

"Thank you."

"Handsome girl, my Jane," Dunster murmured.

"Yes, she is."

"Got everything a man could want—good looks, good breeding, good manners. The sort of female to help a man's advancement."

"I have admired her for some time, sir."

"Of course you have! And I have seen that she has waited for you. I could've taken Dillingham, you know, but she had her heart set on you, for you are the handsomer, she says." Dunster noticed that the footman had returned. "Ah, yes. That will be all, Thorpe." Moving to where the man had set the tray, the older man poured hefty amounts of the claret into two glasses. "Well, don't stand there, Hamilton—come get your share, eh?"

As Patrick took one, the earl lifted the other, smiling again. "To the future of the Tories!" As their glasses clinked together, the older man sobered. "You are the future of the party, Hamilton."

"I hope so, sir."

"No doubt about it." Dunster sipped from his glass, then indicated two chairs drawn up to the blazing fire. "Sit down, my boy, for we've a great deal to discuss."

Patrick took a seat, then drank of his claret. "Quite good stuff," he admitted.

"I've been saving it, sir, for precisely the right occasion, and I should say this fits that bill, eh?" Dunster held his glass out to the fire, letting the flames reflect off the deep red of the wine. "Best stuff ever smuggled into England from Bordeaux," he declared proudly.

"As an officer of the court, I shall try to forget that, sir," Patrick murmured, smiling.

"Mean to talk about that also. But just now there are other things more to the point." The earl's eyes met Patrick's. "Settlements, for instance."

"I don't expect a great deal, my lord. Your patronage means far more than money."

"Oh, I mean to be generous," Dunster insisted, waving aside Patrick's words. "Jane wants you, and I want her to have what she wants. Of course, I shall expect your candor also. Between us, we want to see that she has the sort of life she has come to expect, don't we?"

"I assure you that I can afford her."

"Of course you can! I have made some preliminary inquiries, and I think I have a fair notion as to where you stand financially, dear boy." The earl smiled, then sobered. "You've come far in the ten years you have been in London, haven't you?"

"I've had my successes."

"And you've made a name for yourself, there's no denying that." "Thank you."

"You've got a good rep, Hamilton." When Patrick said nothing, Dunster continued, adding, "But I must admit I was more than a trifle disappointed to see you defend the Coates woman."

"The jury found her innocent."

"Innocent!" the earl snorted. "An unapt description of the harpy, if I have ever heard one." "Not guilty, then."

"Yes, well—" Dunster cleared his throat. "Well, I daresay it didn't hurt you in the end, for it will be long forgotten ere the elections. Besides, God got His justice, anyway, didn't He?"

"I don't know, my lord."

"Well, she's dead, in any event. And I have assured my colleagues in the party that you do not mean to make it a practice of rubbing shoulders or anything else with that sort of person."

"Mrs. Coates paid me a goodly sum," Patrick said evenly.

"Harrumph! I daresay when we are done, you will not need to concern yourself with such things. The short of it, my dear Patrick, is that I intend to make you a wealthy man."

"I do not count myself particularly poor now, sir."

"How much are you worth?" Dunster asked bluntly.

"I thought you said you knew."

"I think I do, but I'd like to hear the figures from you."

Patrick neither liked the earl's tone nor his manner, and yet he knew his political future, if he were to have one, depended on Jane's father. He sat rather still, staring into the red-orange flames, composing himself to answer.

I have nearly seventy thousand pounds in the 'Change, and almost none of it was touched by the recent troubles, my lord. And I have recently bought Farmington's estate near Barfreston without touching my principal." He paused for that to sink in, then added, "I paid cash for it."

"Really?" Seemingly impressed, Dunster nodded.

"I have been considering marriage for some time," Patrick admitted, "and I thought it a rather snug place to rear a family."

"How many rooms?" the earl wanted to know.

"Twenty-seven-—and Farmington has added several water closets." When Jane's father said nothing, Patrick murmured apologetically, "I am well aware that it is nothing like what your daughter is used to, but it ought to do very well for us."

"Dunster Castle is possessed of nearly one hundred rooms and nineteen chimneys, sir," the older man reminded him.

"And how many water closets?" Patrick inquired mildly.

"Well, there are but three inside," Dunster conceded irritably, "but they are centrally located."

"As Jane has already informed me there are to be but two offspring, I cannot but think twenty-seven rooms ought to suffice, my lord."

Perceiving the slight edge to the younger man's voice, the earl retreated, allowing heartily, "Of course there are enough, sir! It was not my intent to disparage the place—not at all! I am sure Jane will be content enough there."

"I hope so," Patrick murmured dryly.

"Yes, well, she can be a biddable girl if you put your mind to it, my boy. But we were speaking of settlements, weren't we?"

"We had not quite gotten to that, my lord. I need to add that I also have another twelve thousand pounds in the bank."

"Eighty-two thousand—and the country house, of course, which does not count your current dwelling here," Dunster calculated. "Most impressive, sir. But I daresay your father—"

"My father sent me off with nothing, sir," Patrick said. "It was the Duke of Hamilton who paid for my studies at Cambridge."

"Yes, of course," the earl murmured soothingly. "One could have wished it were Oxford, but I am sure Cambridge provides a fine education also. And Hamilton is a fine fellow—a good connection."

"I don't plan to draw upon that, sir. Indeed, but aside from my name, there is no connection at all there, I assure you."

"I see," Dunster said, seemingly disappointed. "Well, in any event, it would have been easier to promote you amongst my colleagues in the party had you gone to Oxford, and I cannot deny that, of course. One tends to identify with one's school, you know, and Cambridge seems to have delivered up a preponderance of Whigs."

"I cannot very well go to Oxford now."

"No—what's done is done, isn't it? And you will do very well, I am sure. I have spoken to the Prime Minister, and Liverpool is agreed we are in need of new blood to revitalize the party. He suggests you stand in a safe district, and as Billingsly is withdrawing for his health, we think perhaps Wychott West would suit you."

Patrick sat very still, every fiber of his body absorbing the news he'd been waiting for years to hear. Dunster had already laid the road for him to follow to Parliament.

"I am honored," he managed finally

"Oh, I quite expect you will earn it. After the lengthy debates on the Corn Laws last year, we are decided we need a man of your oratorical abilities to persuade those who would waver. You have a gift there, sir—a divine gift for argument."

"I shall certainly try," Patrick promised.

"No, my boy, you will do it." Dunster regarded him soberly, then nodded. "I have had my eyes on you for two years, Hamilton, and if you would have the truth of it, 'twas I who brought you to my daughter's attention. Not that she was not in alt once she saw you."

"Oh?"

"Yes. Why should the Whigs have all the firebrands, I ask you?"

"Why indeed?"

"You remind me of Fox in his heyday—the man was as eloquent as any. But a Whig," Dunster recalled, frowning. Recovering, he straightened in his chair. "But we were speaking of settlements, weren't we? I'd hoped to surprise you greatly, but it would seem I have underestimated your worth by nigh to a half. Well, that doesn't signify, I suppose. It only means that you will be able to keep my Jane in style, after all."

"Yes."

The earl toyed with his glass, then looked up again. "I had in mind to settle twenty thousand on Jane— and of course I intend to purchase a suitable house for your wedding present. I should hope you will wish to settle another ten thousand on her also."

"Thirty thousand seems more than adequate for her, I should think," Patrick answered. "But I am rather attached to the house I have got, my lord."

"It does nothing for your consequence, my boy— nothing. A man who will need to entertain must have room for an adequate number of servants."

"It serves as a reminder that I have made my own way before the world," Patrick countered.

"And you will go a great deal further," the earl assured him. "But appearances must be kept up, Hamilton. A man's reputation is built on appearances as much as substance."

What had he told Elise Rand when he'd accepted her bargain? That Paris must be worth a Mass. And the same could be said for Dunster's offer. To stall long enough to control his irritation, Patrick finished his claret. Then, setting his glass aside, he nodded.

"It seems eminently fair to me, my lord," he said finally.

"From the first time I saw you, Hamilton, I knew you were a reasonable man," Dunster declared.

"Papa—?" The door, which had been opened tentatively, swung wider, and Jane peered inside. "Is he—?"

"Come in, my love." Beaming, the earl gestured to Patrick. "Your betrothed has proven most amiable, my dear, and I have persuaded him to take the house I have offered."

As she looked at Patrick, her mouth curved into a sly, satisfied smile. "Then all is settled?"

Dunster rose. "I shall leave it to Hamilton to tell you of it," he murmured. "And between you, you may decide when you wish to wed." Turning back to the younger man, he added, "We expect elections next spring, my boy."

She waited until her father was gone, then she crossed the room to Patrick. "I knew you would be pleased—I knew it!" she said excitedly. "And I have precisely the house already picked out! All Papa must do is persuade Lady Brockhaven to sell it, and since the old baron is dead, I cannot but think that an easy task. I mean, what can she want with such a grand place, anyway?"

He stood politely and tried to smile. "Don't you think I ought to see it?" he asked quietly.

She stopped and looked at him blankly. "But you have—surely you must have passed it a hundred times and more. And you cannot have missed it," she declared positively. Then, seeing that he did not appear entirely pleased, she assumed a defensive posture. "Well, it is precisely what we need, sir, for the rooms downstairs are quite large and commodious enough for the most excellent dinners and parties. I vow that I could seat at least thirty in the dining room."

"It is a bit far from my office, my dear."

"Oh, but did not Papa tell you? He is hopeful that you will turn all your energies to Parliament. Once we are wed, you need never return to the Bailey."

While he himself had contemplated just such a circumstance, it somehow galled him that Dunster and his daughter had taken it upon themselves to decide his future for him.

"No," he said evenly, "I am afraid I am a barrister at heart."

Caught out, she tried to recover. "Well, I am sure Papa-......"

"Jane, don't you think this is something to be decided between us?"

"Well, yes—of course it is, Patrick. But Papa—"

"No, I mean between you and me."

Her face fell. "You mean you do not want the house?"

"I didn't say that. I am willing to look at it, if it pleases you that much."

"Oh, but it does! And Papa will buy it for us." She moved closer to look up into his face. "Please, I should like it above all things."

There was no denying that she was beautiful, but as he looked into her dark eyes, he felt almost nothing. As guilt assailed him, he forced another smile.

"All right—we'll look at it tomorrow," he promised her.

"And if you do not like it, I'll tell Papa."

"Fair enough."

She smiled softly. "You have forgotten something, haven't you?" When he did not respond, she prompted him. "Well, we are engaged to wed now, aren't we? And you have not so much as kissed me today." As she spoke, she moved closer still. "Well?"

"I did not think it proper in your father's house, but—" Drawing her into his arms, he looked again into her dark eyes. "But I cannot think he would wish to call me out over it, would he?" he murmured, bending his head to hers.

"I am quite certain he would not," she whispered.

His arms closed around her, holding her, as his lips met hers tentatively at first, then with more ardor. She was soft and pliant in his arms, and he managed to tell himself that that was enough. But as his kiss deepened, she began to struggle, then when he released her, she pulled away from him.