A Masquerade in the Moonlight (33 page)

“
What!
Are you saying that—”

“Shut up,” Laleham bit out from between necessarily clenched teeth. After all these years, it was still difficult to believe how thoroughly blockheaded Stinky was. Hadn’t he figured it out on his own?

Lord Chorley looked around fearfully, then lowered his voice to a whisper. “Murder, William. You’re talking about murder. No! He’s almost the king. You’re suggesting something very close to regicide! I thought we was just going to ship him off somewheres. I
like
him! Oh, no,” he said, shaking his head. “Not going to do it, Willie. Not going to do it!”

“Why not, Stinky?” Laleham asked quietly, once more pulling out the club he had used on the man, had used on all of them. “You’ve killed before. He wasn’t altogether dead when we hung him up. You saw his futile attempts to grab at the rope, his desperate struggles when he knew he was about to die. Did you lift a hand to help him, raise your voice to stop it? You’ll learn after the first, the second comes easier.  Especially when we all know the prize awaiting us. The fortunes. No more worries about money, Stinky, you’ll be able to gamble away two fortunes a day and still be rich.”

Lord Chorley began worrying at his thumbnail. “Yes, well, there is that. But Ralph never said anything about regicide, Willie.”

The earl smiled, or at least as much of a smile as his still tender jaw allowed. “I don’t tell Ralph everything, Stinky. Only those I feel are closest to me. Those for whom I have the greatest affection, the most ambitious plans. You’d feel comfortable living in Carleton House, Stinky, as you visit it so often to see the prince. And then there’s that ridiculous building project Prinny’s working on in Brighton. It can be yours as well.”

Then Laleham sat back, watching the smile that dawned over Lord Chorley’s round face, banishing the last remnants of his frown and the last of his misgivings. He still might marvel at the man’s stupidity, but the earl knew he had never underestimated his old friend’s overweening greed. He owned Lord Chorley, body and soul, and the devil with the man’s incessant gambling. Soon it wouldn’t matter if Lord Chorley gambled away his own back teeth.

His plans, his very private plans, were all beginning to come together. Now all Laleham had to do was line up the rest of his ducks, make them quack on cue—then sit back and watch as they mowed each other down, leaving him to reap the rewards of victory, Marguerite by his side as he ascended the throne.

Sir Peregrine Totton lifted his chin and raised a hand to his chest, peering at his reflection, mentally congratulating himself on both his new jacket and his impressive air—the look of the Compleat, Accomplished Gentleman. A gentleman of breeding, a gentleman of knowledge. Respected, and more than that,
envied
by his peers. Worshiped by his intellectual inferiors. Feted and applauded by all!

“I believe the shoulders could be broader,” he said to the tailor, who was reclining on his haunches beside Sir Peregrine, his mouth stuffed with pins. “Some buckram padding? And I’d like the same styling made up in Clarence blue, although this brown must be in my hands tomorrow morning. That should not tax your abilities overmuch, should it? You can have the brown altered and to me by nine. Not a moment later, mind you, for I shall be off to the Tower before ten.”

The tailor bobbed his head enthusiastically and quickly helped Sir Peregrine out of the jacket before bowing himself out of the private office, nearly backing into the Earl of Laleham.

“William!” Sir Peregrine exclaimed, espying the earl’s reflection in the mirror and wheeling about to greet him. “Why didn’t my man Grouse tell me you were here at the Ministry? I would have dropped everything to meet with you.”

“Supplementing your wardrobe, are you, Perry?” the earl asked, helping himself to a chair. “Is there something I should know about?”

Sir Peregrine smiled widely, then turned away, to slip back into the jacket he’d been wearing before the tailor had showed up for a final fitting. “Don’t be ridiculous, William,” he said a moment later. “There is nothing in the least unusual about ordering a new jacket or two. Why, I wager you own several dozen yourself.”
All of them black as your heart,
he added mentally, wondering where he had found the temerity to so much as think meanly of William Renfrew.

He covered his mouth with his hand, hiding a smile behind a cough, feeling suddenly giddy with the knowledge that, after tomorrow, he would not have any reason to worry about William Renfrew ever again. Not after tomorrow. He would be established, he would be famous—he would be respected! In the meantime, he would keep his secret. William could read about it in the newspapers, like the rest of London.

“You’re perspiring, Perry,” the earl said smoothly, so that Sir Peregrine quickly remembered that it was not yet tomorrow—that today he still belonged to William Renfrew. “You haven’t any bad news for me, have you? Everything is still going forward as planned?”

“Of course it is, William,” Sir Peregrine hastened to assure him, knowing the dependable Grouse had all the proper papers ready for his signature. “Or at least it would be if that pigheaded Irishman would only turn over the letter from Madison. He’s proving devilish sticky on that point. But surely Ralph has already told you as much.”

“He has,” the earl said quietly, and Sir Peregrine watched him intently, marveling at the way the man could speak without opening his mouth. His cracked jaw must still be quite painful. That bothersome Irishman was worth something, Sir Peregrine thought, indulging himself just for a moment in the joy of seeing William discommoded.

“But you’re the one I trust, Perry,” he heard Laleham continue. “We’re entering a very difficult, ticklish stage of the negotiations, and I need to assure myself you will keep an eye out for our best interests.”

Sir Peregrine mentally berated himself for thinking badly of William. The earl
trusted
him. Trusted him more than he did Ralph, who had always been closest to him. Sir Peregrine smiled. Of course William trusted him. Wasn’t he the one with the
real
brains, the only one with the intelligence to not only carry out the plan, but also become a vital part of the new world order that plan would evoke?

“Why, thank you, William. I’m honored. Ralph is a good man, but rather too closemouthed about his own affairs sometimes, perhaps to the detriment of our plans,” Sir Peregrine said, then bowed—but not too low. It wouldn’t do to look subservient. “If there is anything else I can do to ease your trepidations—anything at all...” He let his words die away, awaiting further instructions, further responsibilities.

“Possibly, Perry. Possibly. Can you keep a secret?”

“Yes, yes, certainly,” Sir Peregrine answered quickly. Of course he could keep a secret. He had kept his mouth shut about Geoffrey Balfour, hadn’t he? What larger secret could there be? Everything else they had done over the years paled into insignificance beside the secret of Geoffrey Balfour. Unless, of course, he was to consider the knowledge of his soon-to-be triumphant entry into the world of scientific discovery.

“Very well, Perry,” Laleham said, rising. He walked to the doorway, then turned and looked piercingly at Sir Peregrine. “I am considering removing Ralph from his position once the full contingent of fifteen ships has sailed, and replacing him with a man I know I can trust. A man like you. In the meantime, I want you to watch him, for I believe he may be entertaining thoughts of cutting us out with the American. Will you watch him for me, Perry?”

“I would be honored!” Sir Peregrine’s thin chest puffed with pride as William smiled a thin, painful smile.

Thomas found Lord Mappleton and Sir Ralph Harewood walking together along Bond Street, Lord Mappleton red-faced as he attempted to keep up with Sir Ralph’s longer strides.

“Good day to you, gentleman!” Thomas chirped cheerfully, touching the brim of his hat to them in greeting, while longing to kill them both on the spot. They had something to do with Marguerite’s unhappiness—precisely what, he didn’t know—but it was enough that they had incurred her anger. He hadn’t had the foggiest notion of what he would say when he met up with any of them, but he’d felt an overwhelming need to see at least a few of them today, look at them closely, and hope to begin to understand why Marguerite hated them so much—perhaps even feared them.

“Donovan,” Sir Ralph returned evenly, barely inclining his head.

“I was so hoping I’d find one of you out taking this lovely afternoon air,” Thomas told them frankly. “How is the most estimable Miss Rollins, your lordship? She was looking quite ravishing on your arm last night at Lady Jersey’s.”

“What? What? Didn’t see you, Dudley. O’course, don’t see much of anyone, now that I’ve my wealthy—er, my
pretty
Georgianna to gaze at, eh, Ralph? You ought to think about finding yourself a rich wife, Ralph. It would do you no end of good to smile once and again. But then, you’re already rich as Croesus, aren’t you? Not that you spend a penny of it. I spend entirely too much, keeping up with Prinny, but I’ve enjoyed every debt I’ve ever incurred, stap me if I haven’t!”

“Shut up, Arthur,” Harewood said without emotion, looking questioningly, suspiciously at Thomas, and most probably wondering why he was seeing him here instead of at Vauxhall, as they had planned. “Are you ready to discuss terms?”

Thomas smiled at him, more than happy to have confused the man.
You’d really hate that, wouldn’t you, you bastard,
he thought,
when you already thought you had me in your private pocket? Why, it’s getting so that a fellow doesn’t know who to trust anymore, isn’t it, my
friend
?
“I presented you with my terms at Richmond, Sir Ralph. I was only thinking, you being a reasonable man, you may have seen the merit of them.”

Lord Mappleton shifted his feet, as if eager to be on his way. “Well, if that’s all,” he said, shaking his head. “Ralph here can’t do anything unless—”

“Good afternoon, gentlemen... you too, Mr. Donovan.”

Thomas turned to see the Earl of Laleham standing behind him. He moved so quietly, Thomas knew he couldn’t be faulted for believing the man practiced at it. But now he had three of them in front of him. Two more and he’d have the full set. He’d never seen them all together. Maybe if he did, he might begin to figure them out—the gambler, the fortune hunter, the hopeful intellectual, the colorless plodder, and the artful schemer who pulled all their strings.

“Your lordship,” he said in greeting, bowing to the earl, and refusing to acknowledge the man’s veiled insult. “How good to see you up and about. You’re talking and everything. Wonderful! I do hope you have forgiven me for that sad mistake at Gentleman Jackson’s. It was a lucky punch, no more. Anyone who witnessed our exchange could see you were the superior man. Isn’t that right, Sir Ralph?”

But Harewood did not immediately jump to his friend’s defense. “What are you doing here, William?” he asked, looking past Thomas to the earl, his expression hinting that he knew something Laleham did not know. “I thought you were intending to call on Miss Balfour this afternoon—after having failed to speak with her last night. She disappeared rather oddly, didn’t she? You were there, Mr. Donovan? Didn’t you find Miss Balfour’s disappearance odd?”

“I hadn’t noticed.”
Saw something last night, didn’t you, you nasty little devil?
Thomas thought, looking at Harewood.
Saw it, and have every intention of hinting that you saw it. But you wouldn’t say anything outright, would you? No. You’re not brave enough to do that.

“Why, Ralph, I had no idea any slight alteration in my plans could be so discommoding to you,” the earl returned quietly after a moment. Thomas watched in amusement as a tic began to throb in Sir Ralph’s left cheek. Did Marguerite have anything to do with their animosity toward each other, or were Renfrew and Harewood just unlovely gentlemen in general, each more than willing to score off the other?

“But,” the earl continued, “to answer your question, Miss Balfour is not receiving today. It appears she retired early from the ball last night due to a slight indisposition and is not up to seeing visitors. Although I believe I did see you conversing with her for some moments at Lady Jersey’s, Mr. Donovan?”