A Season to Be Sinful (5 page)

Oh, Sherry, she said on a breath of sound, awed by the emeralds. What beautiful jewels!

He crossed the room to stand beside her. Regardes-moi, mon petite . He touched the tip of her chin and tilted her en-chantingly greedy face toward him. Francine Dumont would say it just so: Quels jolis bijoux !

It required only three days for Sherry to set his other affairs to right. None of them involved a woman, so choosing presents as carefully as he would choose his words did not delay his departure for the country. He canceled all his engagements for the next month, sending his regrets unaccompanied by any explanation. He knew the wags would have it that he was leaving because he had killed that cutpurse. There was never any chance of turning that story, and Sherry did not even try. He returned to the site of the failed robbery for clues about the thief, but no one he suspected of having information would speak to him long.

The gangs from the meanest streets of Holborn, the ones that roamed Covent and Vauxhall, and the pupils from the schools for thievery that were instituted in St. Giles-in-the-Fields and St. Martins, were a closed bunch. Talking to them was a challenge, for when they did not wish to be understood, they spoke in a cant that was impenetrable to his ear. It was English, to be sure, but the phrasing and meter was more foreign to him than French was to Fanny Hill.

Inquiries about the thief, even the most inoffensive ones about his health, were met as often by blank stares as they were by suspicious ones. There was no one he could give money to for the mans care. There were plenty who would have taken it; indeed, he had to check his pockets constantly to be certain he still had it, but he had no faith that his sovereigns would ever be used to improve the mans care if he lived or provide a Christian burial if he didnt.

In the end there was nothing for it but to cut the loose end. Miss Hill was correct in her judgment that he had no use for them. It was just as she had said: he was ruthless in his own fashion.

It mattered not a whit to Sherry that the ton assumed he was running from something. The truth was that he was running to it, and he had made the decision a full month before the evening at Covent Garden. Arriving at the decision had actually led to that night at the opera, not the reverse.

London never held the appeal for him that it did for so many others in his set. He liked the card play well enough, the camaraderie of the clubs, the politics in or out of Parliament, the women in or out of bed, the occasional ball, and less occasionally a turn on the floor, but the carousel-like quality of it all bored him near to madness. He kept the house because it belonged in the family, and he could not ignore all the responsibilities of his position in town, but it was only at Granville that he could renew his spirit.

He needed to breathe unfetid air, paint as the mood seized him, ride hell-bent-for-leather across green fields, bury his hands deep in the fecund soil of the farm, and renew acquaintances at his leisure, not on demand.

Sherry stood with his back to the library entrance, making a last inspection of the shelves to see if he had missed a volume or two that he would enjoy taking with him. The carriage had been drawn up to the front of the house, and Kearns would arrive soon to inform him that all had been made ready.

The commotion in the hallway did not make him turn to-ward it. The brief attention he gave it was to suppose his housekeeper would see to it. Mrs. Ponsonby knew her duties and knew what he liked. There had never been anything she couldnt manage.

The shout, when it came, gave him some concern, but he let it pass. He did not recognize the voice. It had a youthful timbre and all the outrage that only youth can fully express. It actually made him smile. A lad from the kitchen, no doubt, unhappy with some duty he was expected to perform and too foolish to realize Mrs. Ponsonby would never let him out of the kitchen again.

There was another shout, more of a cry this time. A different voice, though. And then another cry. yes. definitely a cry this time. Mrs. Ponsonby, he decided. A yelp, a squeal, caterwauling, cursing, and still more shouts, some of it sounding as if spoken in a foreign tongue.

Unable to imagine the thing that Mrs. Ponsonby could not manage, Sherry turned and walked slowly to the open door. His presence and a single raised eyebrow had the desired effect: immediate quiet. The problem was that it did not last nearly long enough. In the space of a single heartbeat, three of the scruffiest street urchins he had ever beheld pushed past Mrs. Ponsonby and charged at him. He neatly stepped aside so when they skidded to a halt they were trapped in the library.

Ill send for the authorities, Mrs. Ponsonby said.

A few moments, Sherry told her. Ill tell you when. He was already backing into the library when Mrs. Ponsonbys lower jaw sagged. He firmly shut the door on her gaping countenance and turned toward his uninvited guests. As he suspected, they all began speaking at once, and he didnt understand a word of it.

Sherry learned quickly that a raised brow was ineffective with these young squatters. Theyd already seen the limits of its use in the hallway and were apparently willing to take their chances that the other eyebrow was similarly without consequence.

Bloody hell, he said under his breath. His language did not give them pause. If they heard him at all, which was doubtful given the volume of their own declaratives, it was a certainty they had heard far worse.

They were a motley trio. Poverty clung to them so aggressively they were barely distinguishable as three separate souls. Each of them was painfully thin. Sherry suspected that under the uniformly dirty rags they were wearing, they were all sharp angles, with knees and elbows shaped like the hard, knobby head of a walking stick.

He could not make a proper guess as to their ages, only that little in the way of months or years separated them. One of them always had his mouth opened, and Sherry had not yet glimpsed a full complement of teeth. Except for his own experience as a child, he knew nothing about them. When did they lose their teeth? he wondered. Were these young ruffians missing theirs as the natural course of maturing or was poor diet the culprit? Given their tendency to caterwaul at length, it occurred to him that a less patient man might have simply knocked them out.

At his back, Sherry turned the key in the door and locked it. He pocketed the key but doubted it was safe there. Any one of them looked capable of getting it out again, probably without his noticing. It was a lowering thought that he could be so easy a mark. He pushed away from the door and crossed the room to his desk. He would not have counted himself as surprised had they followed, but when he turned they were still planted in the center of the room regarding him cautiously. For the moment at least, they fell quiet.

Sherry showed them the quill he had selected from the pen stand. For most of its length, the striations on the feather were brown and black. Only the tip was white. He ran his index finger along it, bending it slightly to demonstrate its resiliency. He also showed them by pressing the nib against the tip of the same finger that it was not overly sharp.

Taking advantage of their silence, he said, When the feather is in my possession, I may speak. When the feather is in your possession, you may speak. I am not using the words you and your in the collective sense, but in the singular; therefore, having the feather in your possession is not an invitation for three or even two of you to speak at once.

To a person they simply stared at him. Sherry sighed, then said, It would appear we are divided by a common language. He approached the trio and extended his hand with the feather in it. Which one of you will be first?

He watched the boys exchange glances, nudge one another with those sharp elbows, then apparently arrive at a decision as the middle urchin stepped forward. That this was accomplished without a word passing between them impressed Sherry. What a fine example you fellows could set in the Parliament. He dangled the feather in front of the boy. I will have your name, young sir.

Pinch, he said, lifting the quill smoothly from Sherrys grasp.

Apropos, Sherry murmured.

You dont ave the feather, guvnor.

What?

Pinch swiveled his head in the direction of each of his companions and rolled his eyes. E made the rules and as no respect for them. Thats a swell for ye.

Sherry could not recall receiving a more righteous set-down, or perhaps one that was so well deserved. In observance of his own rules, he made to take the feather back. Pinch quickly put the feather out of reach behind him, and Sherry realized it must have exchanged hands in a nonce because the child on Pinchs left spoke up.

Dash, ere.

There was another smooth exchange, and the boy on the right announced himself. Im Midge.

The feather was returned to Pinch. He revealed it to Sherry, twirling it in his fingertips, but made no move to offer it. We know who yer lordship is, he said with a touch of defianceacute;e. We come for the coin ye offeredtother day. If ye meant it sincere, then ye wont ave a second thought about givin itover.

Givin itover . Sherry winced as he translated. Giving it over . He held his hand out for the feather.

Pinch hesitated, but only briefly. He was not entirely proof against Sherrys implacable stare. Ere. But if ye keep it overlong, the bargains struck down.

We did not strike a bargain, Sherry said once he was in possession of the feather. I suggested a means of conducting our business in a civil manner, Master Pinch, and you accepted. Matters of trade, diplomacy, and even parley between scurvy-riddled pirates require attention to certain niceties of deportment. I am the Viscount Sheridan, and you will address me as befits my title. As to this notion that I should give you funds, you will have to offer more in the way of explanation, otherwise Mrs. Ponsonby will be instructed to send for the watchmen, and I will give testimony against you at the assizes myself.

Holding out his hand again, Sherry offered the feather for the plucking. It was a long moment before it was taken. He was not sure if he had shaken their confidence or befuddled their young minds.

Beggin yer lordships pardon, Pinch said, striking a note of credible deference. We meant no disrespect. He shifted uncomfortably under Sheridans sardonic gaze. That is, we meant no sincere disrespect. There aint much in the way of time left. Wouldnt ave come if it ad been else, but Dash ere followed you ometother day as we knew it might come to this. So here we are, come for the coin you promised so we can get a surgeon. Nothin will be right again, I can tell ye, if we dont.

Midge took the feather. Nothin, yer lordship.

Dash reached around Pinch and lifted it from his friends fingers. Nothins been as it was since yer lordship plugged er with yer shiv.

Sherry frowned as the feather was held out to him. For a moment he simply looked at it dumbly and knew his own senses to be well and truly befuddled. These young ruffians had a way of dishing out twice what was served to them once. He took the feather. Er? he asked, his voice not much above a whisper. You are speaking of a female?

There was some eye rolling before Pinch reached for the feather.

Sherry held it out of the way. I think we can dispense with this, he said, tossing it aside. It has served its purpose. He put the question to them again when they fell quiet. Female?

Pinch snorted. Blimey! Shes a girl, right enough, if thats what yer lordship means. Thought yed know that when ye put the knife to her.

How would I know?

Dash frowned. Bubbies. In the event his host did not know the word, Dash cupped his dirty hands over his chest and pushed upward. Bubbies.

Sherry actually felt himself pale. A young girl? he asked.

It was Midge who answered. He lifted his hands to his thin chest in the same manner his friend had, but he made bigger cups of his palms.

A woman, then, Sherry said. It made him feel not a whit better. My assailant was a woman?

Miss Rose, Pinch told him. Ere now, do ye need to sit? Midge, get is lordship a chair. Push it right up under im.

Midge started forward, but Sherry waved him back. He was all too aware that they were watching him closely, prepared to show no mercy for weakness.

For his part he was finally able to make some distinctions between the boys. Pinchs face was the narrowest, his features tight to the bone, the dark eyes keen with distrust. He might have taken the moniker Pinch because of his profession, but it was equally suited to his look.

Master Dash, in contrast, was not simply pale but fair-skinned. There was evidence of a towhead beneath his battered cap and a substantial amount of grime. The boy evinced a natural restlessness, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, curling and uncurling his fingers. The temptations of the library, with its bone china vases and jade figurines, the crystal decanters on the sideboard, and the wealth inherent in the leather-bound books, were positively fraying the childs nerves.

Then there was Midge, the one Sherry took to be the youngest, if not in years, then in necessary experience. He was smaller of stature and held himself with less confidence. His eyes were a shade wider than the others, deeply blue, and more curious than cautious. He was easily the most vulnerable and accessible of the trio.

It was to Midge that Sherry looked. Miss Rose? he asked. She is your sister perhaps?

Teacher.

Sherry did not miss the elbow jab that Midge was served for his answer. You are all apprentices of Miss Rose, then, he said. She runs a school for thievery? There was no an-swer forthcoming; indeed, he had not expected one. They had already risked a great deal to come to their teachers aid. They were not likely to put the whole of it at his feet. Very well. Let us decide what is to be done.

Yer coin, Pinch said, lifting his narrow chin sharply. Then well fetch a surgeon for er.

Make er right agin, Dash said. Like she was afore ye stuck er.

Sherry was compelled to defend himself before Midge echoed Dash. Contrary to what you think you know, I know I did not stick er . Your Miss Rose stuck herself. With her own blade, I might add, because I do not carry one. He was uncertain if this impressed his guests or made him seem foolish. No matter, it was the truth.

Miss Rose dont carry one either, said Pinch. His chin was still up, challenging Sheridan.

She did that night, Sherry said. Because I did not.

Pinch did not back down from his assertion, and the other two squared their shoulders in support of it. So you say.

Sherry was unused to having his word disputed; to have a child gainsay him was the end of enough. He was prepared to call for Mrs. Ponsonbycertain she was standing at the ready on the other side of the doorwhen the shutter dropped from Pinchs dark eyes and revealed nothing save his fear. The sharp breath Sherry had drawn to summon his housekeeper lodged in his throat. He released it slowly, long after Pinch had drawn the shutters up again, but he knew he had not imagined it.

There had been a moment when he had felt that fear as his own.

Sherry returned to his desk, hitched one hip on the edge, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. We will have off with the accusations, he said firmly. I will not give you coin for a surgeon but will summon my own physician in lieu of that. He absorbed their blank stares. In lieu of instead of. Comprehension brightened their eyes. You will have to take us to Miss Rose. There is no getting around that.

I cannot send Harris off alone even if he would agree, which he will not.

Then yeve kilt her, Pinch said. We cant take ye.

Do you think I mean to have her arrested? They looked at one another uncertainly, then back at him and shrugged. I dont, he said. Neither do I intend to expose her school. The watchmen know where you live and have never been moved to run you out.

Sure, and donchaknow, we give em a share of our pick-ins from time to time.

Of course, Sherry thought. The Charlies were paid little enough; the bribes they received were probably pathetically small. Well? What is it to be?

Pinchs glance was suspicious, Ere now, why do ye care?

Sherry inclined his head slightly in a nod of approval. You are the first person to put that question to me, Master Pinch, and the answer will surprise you: I do not care.

Oooh, Pinch said, raising his hands in mock astonishment. Theres a surprise, right enough. A toff who dont care about us whos less fortunate than imself.

Sherry waited for Pinchs cynical amusement to quiet, then said, I am no social reformer. I do not care about your school, or your teacher, or how many pockets you pick, but I cannot shed myself of the peculiar notion that I am in some way responsible for the injury that was done, and that, young master, is what offends me and what honor demands I correct.

Responsible? Pinch asked. Ocourse yer responsible. Ye plunged yer shiv in her.

Sherry said nothing. His refusal to mount another defense left them wondering and uncertain. They were unused to extending trust outside of their small group; perhaps it was a rare thing extended inside it as well.

No tricks? Pinchs eyes narrowed to slits. You wont urt er?

You will accept my word?

Pinch glanced at his companions. They nodded slowly.

When he looked back at Sheridan he said gruffly, Aye. Well accept it.

Sherry stood and offered his hand. A gentlemans agreement, then. There was some hesitancy, then they came forward one at a time and surrendered their grimy fingers to the grip of his long, elegant ones. When this solemn business was concluded, Sherry resisted the urge to reach for his handkerchief or check his timepiece to see if it was still attached to the fob. The trust they tendered was not necessarily reciprocal, but he had no wish to underscore that point. He unlocked the door, pocketing the key again.

Mrs. Ponsonby, he said, his voice raised just enough to he heard into the hall

The housekeeper appeared in the doorway immediately. Also in the frame behind her were his valet, the cook, and his driver. Yes, mlord? Shall I fetch a watchman now?

No. The physician, please. Be most particular to inform Harris that he should come immediately and will be well compensated for the trouble I am going to put him to.