A Not So Respectable Gentleman? (18 page)

‘And he was inside?’ Could this be true?

‘He was indeed.’

‘Ha! Ha!’ Kellford clapped his hands. ‘Who could have imagined it? I thought you were merely going to stop him.’

Hughes withdrew a piece of paper from a pocket. ‘Here is an accounting of my expenses and the fees we agreed upon.’ He handed the paper across the desk.

Ah, yes. An accounting. No doubt Hughes would charge as much as possible.

He took the paper from Hughes’s hands and peered at the figures.

He gaze shot up. ‘This sum is astronomical! It is twice as much as we agreed upon.’

Hughes shrugged. ‘Carriage accidents come at a high price.’

How he detested dealing with these low lifes. As soon as he had his fortune, he’d pay this creature and be done with him. From then on he’d move only in the most esteemed circles, precisely where he belonged.

Kellford glared. ‘Your task is not completed yet. You still have to produce the clerk at the church Saturday morning. I want my new wife to see him seated in a pew. Not too close to my guests, mind you, but where she can see him.’

‘I’ll tend to it personally and produce the final accounting afterwards.’

Kellford was sure putting the bank clerk in a pew at church would be quite an additional cost.

He favoured Hughes with a false smile. ‘I am very certain you will.’

There was a knock at the door and Kellford’s footman appeared. ‘You have a caller, your lordship.’

It was much too early for reputable callers. That was why he’d scheduled Hughes at this hour. It would not do for his reputable visitors to catch him with such a man. Obviously his precautions had not worked perfectly.

‘Well, who is it?’ Kellford snapped.

The footman answered, ‘Mr Leo Fitzmanning, sir.’

Kellford felt his face drain of colour.

‘I saw him float away,’ Hughes whispered. ‘I swear it.’

Kellford signalled for him to be quiet. He turned to the footman. ‘You may tell Fitzmanning I will see him here.’

The footman bowed and left.

Kellford, anger raging inside him, ripped up Hughes’s tally of expenses. ‘Unless a ghost walks in here, Mr Hughes. You failed to complete your task.’ He waved him away. ‘Hide yourself now while I hear what Fitzmanning has to say.’

Hughes walked to the other end of the room and concealed himself behind the curtains.

The footman appeared again. ‘Mr Fitzmanning,’ he announced.

Kellford fumed. It was not a ghost who walked in. Fitzmanning was very much alive.

‘Surprised to see me, Kellford?’ Leo’s tone was sarcastic.

Surprised and acutely disappointed, Kellford thought, but he fussed with his papers and acted as if this visit was a mere annoyance.

‘Nothing you do surprises me, Fitzmanning,’ he drawled. ‘Even calling upon me at this hour. To what purpose?’

‘To discuss your wedding,’ Leo growled. ‘Call it off, Kellford. Before you carry this too far.’

‘Come now.’ Kellford made himself laugh. ‘I cannot call it off. Happiness is within my grasp.’ He peered at Leo. ‘It astonishes me that you think this is any of your affair.’

Leo glared at him. ‘I have made it my affair.’

Kellford raised a finger in the air. ‘Ah, I recall. My lovely betrothed and your sisters have been friends from childhood. You are here at your sisters’ behest. The famous Fitzmanning Miscellany coming to each other’s aid.’

Leo looked threatening. ‘Enough nonsense. I have an offer. I know you started this whole charade in order to pay your debts. I will pay the money lenders for you. Release Miss Covendale from her engagement. Give up the ruin of her father. Stop now before you are the one taken to the gaol.’

Did Fitzmanning think
he
was behind the carriage accident? No, no, no, no. That was Hughes’s idea.

Kellford raised his brows, pretending surprise. ‘You are the one speaking nonsense. As to my betrothal...’ he wagged his finger ‘...a gentleman does not cry off. Only the lady has that privilege. Miss Covendale has only to say she does not wish to marry me and I will properly withdraw.’

Not bad bluffing, thought Kellford smugly to himself.

Leo leaned across the desk. ‘And then you will proceed to destroy her father and ruin her family.
That
is not the behaviour of a gentleman, sir.’

Kellford’s knees started shaking, but he didn’t dare show weakness. He lifted his chin. ‘I hardly think one of your birth and reputation is a proper judge of gentlemanly behaviour.’

Leo’s back stiffened. ‘Never mind about me. This is about Miss Covendale. Release her.’

Kellford put on a charming smile, gratified that he’d got under the other man’s skin. ‘I shall tell you what I will do. I will forbid my wife to see you or any of your family. I must protect her from your corrupting influence.’ He could not resist another barb. ‘Your interference is unconscionable... But, then, what should I expect from the bastard children of a debauched duke?’

Leo’s voice turned even more menacing. ‘Murder, perhaps?’

Kellford could not breathe, but he managed to feign indignation. ‘Are you threatening me? Oh, dear. That I cannot tolerate. I’m afraid you must leave now.’ He waved the man away as if he were an annoying fly.

‘Watch your back, Kellford. I mean to stop you.’ Leo looked extremely lethal.

He turned on his heel and strode out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

Kellford drew in a breath. He fussed with his papers, trying to calm down.

Hughes stepped out of his hiding place.

Kellford looked up at him. ‘What are you waiting for, Hughes? Follow him. Do not fail this time.’

Chapter Eighteen

H
ughes hurried out of the town house onto Mayfair street. Fitzmanning was nearing the end of the street, walking at a fast pace.

Still angry, Hughes figured. Kellford had made the man spitting mad.

Hughes whistled for his men. Two of them had accompanied him in case Kellford gave them any trouble.

They emerged from where they were hiding.

‘We have to nab that fellow.’ Hughes pointed to Leo. ‘Try to get ahead of him. He’s probably going to Jermyn Street. When it is safe, we grab him.’

The men nodded and took off in different directions to get ahead of Leo without him knowing. Hughes followed behind, keeping him in sight.

His quarry strode towards Berkeley Street. It was busy with traffic. Not a good place to capture him. Not that there were any good places for it between here and the man’s rooms on Jermyn Street. They might have to break into his rooms. Not good odds if his servant was in there, though.

Hughes did not see his men, but trusted they were somewhere ahead. They’d better be. Too much money was at stake and Hughes was not about to lose out at this late date.

* * *

Leo strode into the crush of pedestrians on Berkeley Street, still angry. He’d come close to hauling Kellford out from behind his desk and killing him with his bare hands. It had been a huge gamble to try to get Kellford to listen to reason.

He was fresh out of options. He could go to Doring and beg him to accept the return of his money without prosecuting Mariel’s father, but why should the man listen to him? What influence could he have?

He had no doubt he and Walker could find the bank clerk eventually, but in less than three days? It had taken them longer than that the first time and now Kellford knew he was looking for the man.

Leo resisted the impulse to push his way through the crowded street. What was he in a hurry for? It was merely anger propelling him forwards. The crowd thinned and he increased his pace again.

It had been a mistake to call upon Kellford, but what else was he to do? Where could he look in London for a man who was meant to be kept out of sight?

Leo crossed Piccadilly, wondering why he was headed back to his rooms. There must be something else he could do, something he’d not thought of yet.

When he started across Arlington Street two men sprang out. Before he could gather his wits, the men pushed him into an alley. Leo twisted out of one man’s grip. He swung and landed a hard right to the other man’s jaw, sending him sprawling. The first man pulled a knife and charged for him.

Leo grabbed the man’s wrist and spun him around, pulling up on the man’s arm behind his back. The knife fell and Leo dived for it.

He picked it up and held it out in front of him. ‘Get back!’ he growled, slashing at the air, like Walker had once shown him. He inched towards the entrance of the alley.

He was about to step into the safety of busy Piccadilly Street when he was seized from behind, his arms immobilised. The first two men surged forwards. They punched him in the stomach and face. Again and again.

Leo was consumed with pain. If he did not do something, these thugs would beat him senseless.

Unless he became senseless first.

Leo made himself into dead weight, letting the knife fall from a hand gone slack. If he pretended to be knocked out, perhaps he’d have another chance to escape.

‘Now we got him, do we kill him or what?’ one of the men asked.

Leo felt a new surge of fear.

‘Bloody good idea,’ the man holding him said. He was lowered to his knees and his head jerked back to expose his throat.

He’d be damned if he’d let them get away with that.

Leo sprang to life, twisting the man, holding him into the path of the knife.

‘Ahh!’ cried the man who clutched his arm.

Leo ran.

‘Don’t stand there!’ he heard behind him. ‘After him!’

He didn’t look back and didn’t stop, even when he reached the street. He ran to St James’s.

This had been no robbery attempt. He’d been the target for killing, just as he had been in the carriage accident. And how coincidental that he’d just left Kellford’s.

He heard the pounding of feet behind him. He was the target, for certain. He was close to his rooms, but instinct told him it wouldn’t be safe there. That’s precisely where they expected him to run. He needed to fool them again.

Leo ran down Jermyn Street, letting them think they knew where he was bound, but, at the last minute, he turned into the churchyard and crossed through it to return to Piccadilly.

He entered the Burlington Arcade, surmising his pursuers would not try anything with the beadles guarding the place. Breathing hard, he ducked into a shop and received curious stares from the clerk and other shoppers. He pretended to look at the merchandise, but watched until his pursuers hurried by.

He walked out, melding into the Arcade’s other visitors. He went back to the entrance, trying not to call attention to himself. He moved into Old Bond Street, disappearing from sight as quickly as he could, trying to decide where to go. Where to hide.

He’d succeeded in fighting off the three men, but he might not be so lucky if they caught him a second time. They’d underestimated him once and were not likely to do so again. Now he had a new problem—how to avoid capture and certain death and still save Mariel.

He crossed Berkeley Street again and lost himself in the labyrinth of Mayfair. He walked aimlessly, avoiding Charles Street, although he toyed with the idea of calling on Kellford again and giving him a taste of what he’d just been through.

He thought better of it.

Leo wandered to Park Lane, considering his options. Perhaps he should call upon Mariel’s father, convince the man his neck was not worth the sacrifice of his daughter.

He laughed to himself. Covendale would never listen to him. If Covendale cared about his daughter, he would never have put her in this predicament. Indeed, if he cared about her, he would have accepted Leo’s suit all those years ago. Besides, if Leo stood in front of the man, he’d more than likely say exactly what he thought of a father who sacrificed his daughter to a man like Kellford.

Leo had time to contemplate his next move. He walked slowly up Park Lane, glancing at Hyde Park on his left, remembering first telling Mariel about Kellford there, remembering how it felt to see her again, how unchanged his feelings had been towards her, how deeply it hurt to have lost her.

The pain of losing her again shot through him, worse than the recent blows to his gut and face. He closed his eyes until he could bear the agony. When he opened his eyes he was staring at Manning House.

His brother’s house.

His throat tightened and his insides felt as shredded as if the knife had sliced into him.

Suddenly Mariel’s voice came to him.
Ask for help.

Leo sprinted up to the door and sounded the huge brass knocker with its ducal crest. This time the footman who answered the door was a man who had also been in his father’s employ.

He immediately recognised Leo and ushered him in. ‘Master Leo! What has happened to you?’

Leo was touched by the man’s obvious concern. ‘A minor mishap, Shaw. Is my brother at home?’

‘I’ll see, sir. Come wait in the drawing room.’ Shaw moved as if to assist Leo.

Leo shook his head. ‘Don’t worry over me. I look worse than I feel. Just find my brother.’

It seemed a long time since Leo had been in this room although it had been mere days since his brothers and sisters gathered for the dinner party. So much had happened since then.

He heard footsteps running on the marble floor of the hall. The door flung open and his brother entered, hurrying up to him.

‘Leo! Shaw said you were injured.’ Nicholas examined him, then put an arm around his shoulders. ‘Come sit, for God’s sake. Why are you standing?’

Leo lifted a hand. ‘I am not hurt, Nick. But I am in trouble. Big trouble. I just need for you to listen to me. Hear me out.’

Nicholas nodded, but sat Leo in one of the chairs. Holding up a finger, he signalled Leo to wait and went to a cabinet and produced a carafe of brandy and two glasses. As if he were a servant and not a duke, Nicholas poured one drink for Leo. Then he positioned a chair directly facing Leo and poured a glass for himself.

He didn’t even speak after all that. He simply waited.

Leo took a long sip of the brandy. The warming liquid slid down his throat and calmed him. He took a breath and looked directly at his brother.

‘Nick, I need your help....’

* * *

Hughes’s men met him at the tavern in Covent Garden near where the bank clerk was comfortably housed. Hughes intended to be paid for all the work he’d done and that would not happen unless they found Fitzmanning.

‘Well?’ he addressed the men.

‘We lost him,’ one admitted.

‘In the Burlington Arcade,’ the other said.

Hughes’s anger boiled. His arm ached from the gash that the surgeon had just stitched closed. He was in no mood for failure.

‘You lost him? You incompetent curs!’ He pounded the table with a fist. ‘Go back out there and
find
him.’ He summoned another man to the table. ‘These dunderheads lost him. Round up as many men as you can and find him. Set some men to watch his rooms, Covendale’s and Kellford’s. While you are at it, have men watch the houses of his brothers and sisters. And the gaming hells, any place he might hide. I’ll brook no failure in this. We find him and eliminate him or we do not get paid.’

‘Yes, sir,’ the man said.

Hughes drained his glass of gin. ‘Do not fail me in this. I want him found.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I want him dead.’

* * *

Leo told Nicholas the whole story, and, for once, his brother did not interrupt.

When he finished, Nicholas poured him more brandy, and said, ‘I think we should send for Brenner and Stephen.’

Leo nodded.

Within an hour Brenner and Stephen arrived, and, in the meantime, Nicholas had persuaded Leo to wash, don a fresh set of clothing and eat a generous meal. It was nearing noon. Mariel could be arriving in London any time now.

The brothers gathered in Nicholas’s library under the watchful eyes of their father’s portrait. Leo remembered how his father always made it seem possible to do anything he wanted to do. It was how his father had lived his life, whether what he wanted defied convention or not. It was a lesson Leo had only belatedly learned. Here with his brothers surrounding him, Leo could almost feel the optimism that had been his father’s hallmark.

He repeated the story a second time for Brenner and Stephen. It was easier than before, with Nick sitting next to him, filling in details he’d forgotten.

‘My God,’ Stephen said after it was all over. ‘Mariel Covendale? Now you say it, I can very well imagine the two of you together.’

‘You are skipping over the little matter of Kellford,’ Leo responded.

Stephen waved a dismissive hand. ‘We’ll fix that.’

Brenner leaned forwards. ‘What do you want to do now, Leo?’

Leo could think of only one thing. ‘I want to take away the problem once and for all.’

Stephen broke in, ‘Kill Kellford, do you mean?’

‘It is a thought.’ Leo blew out a breath. ‘Although I have no wish to hang for the likes of him. No, better to go to Doring. Compensate him for the money Covendale stole from him and convince him not to take any action against his cousin.’

‘I agree,’ Brenner said.

‘I can put up the money.’ Nicholas grinned. ‘I’m good for it.’

Good for it? He was rich as Croesus.

‘No, Nick. I need to pay,’ Leo said sharply.

Nicholas peered at him. ‘Are you certain, Leo? Because it is truly a trifle to me.’

‘I know, but it is a matter of importance to me.’ It was of vital importance to Leo. He owed it to Mariel.

‘Very well.’ Nicholas rose and poured them all more brandy.

Leo gaped at his brother. He’d expected a huge battle, with Brenner and Stephen joining in, insisting he should take Nicholas’s offer.

‘The problem is,’ Leo went on. ‘I am not even acquainted with Doring. Why would he allow me to convince him not to prosecute?’

‘I have had some contact with him on a parliamentary matter,’ Nicholas said.

‘I know him slightly,’ Brenner added.

‘As do I,’ Stephen said.

‘We should all go to call upon him.’ Brenner stood, as if they were leaving this very minute. ‘Strength in numbers.’

‘We may need strength in numbers if Kellford’s men find us.’ Stephen glanced out the window.

‘Nick, you must not go,’ Leo said. ‘Not with Emily increasing.’

‘She will understand,’ Nicholas reassured him. ‘Besides, a couple of days won’t make a difference. She’s not due that soon.’

Could they accomplish all this in time?

Leo glanced up at their father’s portrait. He could almost hear his father bellow, ‘Of course you can.’

Leo’s brothers debated how they should travel to Doring and how to get Leo out of the house unnoticed, just in case Kellford’s men were watching. Likewise they discussed how to get messages through to Walker and Mariel.

Leo watched them. He needed them, he realised. Never had he known that with such surety than at this moment.

He could be his own man and still not do it all alone.

When the brothers settled on a plan, Brenner turned to Leo. ‘What do you think? Is this what you wish to do?’

Leo looked from one to the other. ‘I am unused to my brothers asking
my
wishes. I thought you would scold me for mucking up matters with Mariel in the first place and then go on to tell me precisely what I’d done wrong every step of the way.’

Nicholas touched his shoulder. ‘Leo, this isn’t merely some scrape you’ve gotten yourself into; this is your life at stake. Did you not think we could tell the difference?’

Stephen laughed. ‘Yes, we never guessed it was about you and
Mariel Covendale.
Charlotte and Annalise are going to have apoplexy when they find out. They’re the ones you should worry about.’ He clapped Leo on the back. ‘You must let me be there when you tell them. I want to see their faces.’