Corey McFadden (16 page)

“I understand you get a hundred pounds from Thomas and Robert if I marry Julian Thorpe. I’ll give you another hundred if you’ll help me to the same goal.”

“An interesting proposition, Miss Quinn,” Edger said, his idle drawl belying his furious thinking. He saw no sign that the chit was pining with love for Julian. He rather thought she burned with a different passion, the green-eyed monster jealousy. And while two hundred pounds was good....

“As Mrs. Thorpe, you’ll have access to Julian’s prodigious accounts, won’t you, Miss Quinn?” he asked mildly, smiling and nodding to several old biddies who promenaded past.

“I have no idea how prodigious his accounts are, Mr. Randall, and I have no expectation of actually having access,” she snapped. The woman was quick, no doubt about it. She would make an admirable sparring partner.

“Nevertheless, what you propose, I think, requires some delicacy of effort, and there is some risk of being found out. I, for one, would find life not worth living were Julian to cut off our friendship because of some perceived interference on my part.”

“You’d miss his largess, I think,” she replied dryly.

Edgar did not deign to reply. She was right, of course. Many the meal Edgar ate off of Julian’s accounts.

“You want something more. What is it?” Caroline snapped. No doubt she had noted that Julian and Elspeth continued their cozy promenade,
tête-à-tête
, arm in arm, drawing amused and knowing glances. Good. She must recognize that as the level of difficulty increased, so did the price.

“I am not greedy, my dear Caroline, surely you must appreciate that. Still, a fellow must watch his pockets and I think it no secret that I am not terribly well-endowed in that regard.” He ignored her derisive snort. The chit could be very irritating when she set out to be. “I think it only equitable that you pay me the hundred pounds when you get engaged, but I would expect no less than a hundred pounds a year, discreetly paid, of course. Julian would give you that for pin money and not notice it.”

“You’re mad!” she cried, then smiled quickly as several curious stares turned their way. “You’re mad,” she hissed. “I cannot promise such a thing. I have no idea how the man keeps his accounts. Many men give their wives no money at all.”

“Oh, my dear Caroline, women who want funds know how to get them. I do have an alternative suggestion, however. You could pay me the hundred pounds upon your engagement, and then five hundred in one lump sum after the marriage. That will be all. We could call it an old gambling debt, if you like. I could say I’d held off so as not to distress your mother. Julian’s too much the gentleman to ignore a debt of honor.”

“And then I’d owe you no more, is that correct?” Caroline asked sharply. He could see the wheels spinning in her head. This had been his original plan, of course, but she never would have considered it had he not first made the extortionate demand for a lifelong annuity.

“Not a farthing. You can give me your vowels for the five hundred and I’ll just hold it until after the wedding.”

“I’ll give you the vowels after the wedding,” she said shrewdly.

“My dear Miss Quinn, you wound my vanity by thinking me such a fool as that. There won’t be time after the wedding. He’ll whisk you straight off to the country. Surely you can trust me. Besides, if the scheme unravels, I cannot very well present the vowels to you for payment, can I?”

She looked at him narrowly, considering. At that moment she must have heard the deep laugh that resonated from Julian at something the little country cousin said. That seemed to settle her resolve. “Very well,” she said in clipped tones. “It shall be as you say. But I must warn you we have very little time. I expect him to announce his engagement to my cousin at any moment. The little witch has trapped him into a proposal.”

Her words had the sting of an adder’s tongue. Trapped, indeed. If Elspeth Quinn had Julian Thorpe in a trap, it was one the man wouldn’t ever wish to be free of. In love, more like. Edgar felt a pang. If his friend really did love the country gel, it would be cruelty itself to force a marriage with Caroline upon him. At that very moment, he stepped on a sharp piece of broken glass, no doubt from a carelessly shattered cup of Bath’s disgusting effluvia. He could feel the shard slash though what was left of his stocking, a deep, sharp pain. Now he would leave a bloody footprint wherever he walked. That did it. Julian would have to take what fate dished up for him just as Edgar did. But if Edgar helped fate along now and then, it was no less than Julian could do for himself.

“I’ll need ten pounds now, Caroline,” Edgar said, the pain making his tone sharp.

“But you said after....”

“If we are to act immediately, which, by the way, you did not mention before we came to terms, I shall need ten pounds to set things in motion. Confederates need to be compensated, you know.”

“Confederates?” asked Caroline, with obvious alarm. “The fewer who are involved here the better, Edgar. I don’t mean to be blackmailed for the rest of my life by anyone else.”

“I am not such a complete fool as all that, my dear,” he replied, ignoring the barb. “Naturally, I mean to tip a messenger or errand boy here and there. No one will know anything in particular except you and me.”

“Very well,” she replied, seeming satisfied. “I’ll send the ten pounds round to your rooms this afternoon.”

“Never mind that,” Edgar said quickly. He made a point of never giving anyone his actual address. Too humble by half. “I’ll come to you in an hour or so. Will you be home by then?”

“Yes,” she answered, voice sullen, eyes still riveted on Julian and the cousin.

“Good. Are you going to the concert in Sydney Gardens this evening?”

“Isn’t everyone?” she answered again, now looking at him with interest.

“Wonderful. I shall see you in an hour or so. I’ll devise something between now and then.
À
bientôt
,
my dear Caroline.” He bent elaborately over her hand but managed to miss it with his lips, so intent was he on the sight of Julian’s face as he gazed upon Elspeth Quinn. Julian was a man in love, no doubt about that. Oh, well, he’d get over it. Everyone did.

Edgar Randall left the Pump Room, hoping no one would notice the trail of blood.

* * * *

His meeting with Caroline in her drawing room, brief and elliptical that it had necessarily been, had left him the richer by ten pounds. Not much above an hour later, he left the shoemaker, wearing his new soft leather pumps, and new stockings, as well. The shopkeeper had been all too happy to sell him a pair of stockings. The old ones he had stripped off in bloody tatters in a nearby alleyway, where he effected a quick change in footwear.

Now, how to solve Caroline’s problem, incidentally breaking two hearts? An idea had been taking shape over these last two hours. As if fate approved, who should loom into view on Milsom Street, but Lady Haverford, herself, a grande dame of the
ton
, perennial fixture in Bath every summer, indeed, one of the old biddies who kept Bath from falling into utter oblivion now that that scion of society, Beau Nash, had seen fit to shuffle off this mortal coil, incidentally leaving behind scads of vowels worth no more than the paper that held their shaky scrawl. A rancid old gossip was Lady Haverford, just the very sort that Edgar needed at hand tonight if the foul deed was to be done.

“Good afternoon, Lady Haverford,” he said, after she had acknowledged him. “I am most delighted to see that you have graced us with your presence this Season. Bath has seemed dull without you.”

She smiled—simpered, really. Good. He’d need lots of oil to make this one work. She was a wily old thing and could easily get the wind up. He turned to walk in the direction she had been headed. “We’ve had the most interesting little situation developing over the past few weeks,” he said in a conspiratorial sort of low tone.

As he hoped, she was all ears. “You would remember the Quinn family, I’m sure, Bettina and her daughter, Caroline….”

* * * *

“The gardens are beautiful,” Elspeth exclaimed as their party entered the gates at Sydney Gardens that evening. “Far more extensive than I had thought they would be.”

“That’s because anything outside of your little country lanes looks exquisite to you,” Caroline snapped. “You should learn to keep your opinions to yourself if you’re going to sound so ill-informed.” They walked slowly along the paths, where colorful lanterns hung in the branches of the trees that lined the narrow walkways.

Elspeth ignored her, determined not to let her cousin’s waspish temper spoil a lovely evening. She was happy to be out at all, having earlier been afraid that her aunt and Caroline would trot out the same excuse they had used to keep her from last night’s soiree. But although Elspeth had dressed and presented herself downstairs, half-expecting to be sent upstairs again, nothing had been said, so here she was, gawking like the country ‘gel’ she was. Julian would be here a little later, in time for the fireworks. She had refrained from telling Caroline that she had never seen actual fireworks before. No point in leaving herself open for another attack. In the meanwhile, there would be a concert, possibly indifferent, but it could be played by Haydn himself and Elspeth probably would not notice, so delicious was the secret she carried with her everywhere she went.

Julian loved her. He really did. She was sure of that now. He had promised to leave in the next day or so for a quick visit to Weston-under-Lizard, to seek her mother’s permission for their marriage. It was too bad they had to keep their engagement secret until then, but the formalities must be observed, particularly in a place like Bath, largely populated by the older generation, rigid and unyielding about The Rules of Society.

In the meanwhile, he had stolen no more than a kiss or two, and had been lucky at that, considering how impossible it was to find five minutes to be alone, even in the library. Caroline did not suspect the truth—she could not, after all—but she had been even more waspish than usual. Of course, Julian and Elspeth had not been able to hide completely their fondness for one another, but Julian had assured Elspeth that he had never had any sort of ‘understanding’ with Caroline, so she shouldn’t feel that Elspeth had trod on her territory.

“Quite a crowd this evening,” remarked Aunt Bettina, quite likely trying to smooth over the awkward conversation. “There’s Lady Haverford. I’d heard she’d come to Bath but I’ve not seen her till tonight. We must call and leave our cards tomorrow, Caroline.”

Caroline ignored her mother utterly, her gaze roaming the gardens ceaselessly. She must be looking for young Mr. Ledbetter, thought Elspeth. The young man had shown Caroline a great deal of attention, although, to be sure, Caroline acted as if she barely knew he existed.

“Ah, Mrs. Quinn! And the two lovely Miss Quinns,” came Edgar Randall’s lilting tones close by. Caroline turned eagerly to him—odd, that, thought Elspeth, as he certainly could not be the one whom she sought so avidly. Mr. Randall looped his arm casually through Caroline’s and bent his head to whisper something he obviously thought delicious into her shell-like ear. She smiled broadly at him when he finished, but they did not share the
bon mot
. “Now, Mrs. Quinn, tell me how you enjoyed the waters at Queen’s Bath this morning. I regret I could not attend the King’s Bath, but I had pressing business.”

Pleased to have an audience, Bettina Quinn nattered on about how over-hot the water had been, and over-sulphurous. And over-crowded. Bath wasn’t what it used to be, they agreed quite firmly with each other, what with all these New People no one knew or cared to know. Former tradesmen, no doubt, who’d made a bit and wanted to move up the social ladder. Not likely.

“Ah, my dear Caroline,” Edgar exclaimed, when he could get a word in edgewise. “I quite forgot. Hester and Fanny have a lovely piece of gossip they wish to share with you. They made me promise to bring you right over. Mrs. Quinn, may I spirit off your daughter for a few moments? I promise we shall remain quite in the thick of things. Most proper, I can assure you.”

Aunt Bettina fairly simpered her acquiescence, and Edgar took Caroline’s arm and they wandered off. It was rude, of course, but Elspeth could not have cared less about some silly tidbit of
on dit,
not even if it concerned herself. Julian loved her. They would be married and retire to a pleasant country society. All the gossip in Bath could not touch her now. Elspeth watched Edgar Randall bend his head to whisper something to Caroline. It must have been complicated because Caroline listened carefully. Elspeth waited for the flash of derisive laughter at some hapless soul’s expense, but it never came.

* * * *

Julian was late, but he had known he would be. He’d been taking care of correspondence and dealing with his man here in town so that he could get away to Weston-under-Lizard tomorrow, or the next day at the latest. Now he scanned the crowd, but could see no sign of Elspeth, nor of the rest of the Quinn family.

“Evening, Julian, lovely night for fireworks, don’t you think?” came Wesley Ames’s amiable tones.

“Indeed it is,” said Julian, affably, turning and making a leg for Ames’s wife, Helen, a lovely woman, although rather quiet, something Julian thought Ames didn’t much mind, in truth. “Have you seen the Quinns this evening, by the way?”

“Saw the ladies wandering about with Edgar not too long ago,” replied Wesley. Julian ignored the eyebrow cocked his way. Wesley wasn’t much of a gossip, really, at least by comparison with most.

“Excuse me, Mr. Thorpe?” came the butchered accent of a messenger boy who had materialized at Julian’s elbow.

“I am he. Do you have a message for me?” Julian replied.

“From Miss Quinn, sir,” the boy handed Julian a folded-up note and stood expectantly while Julian fished around for the expected emolument. Pocketing the coin, the boy vanished.

“Everything all right?” asked Wesley.

“Mmm,” Julian assented, stowing the note away with a smile. Elspeth was getting quite good at arranging the rare assignation. “Meet me in the labyrinth,” the note said bluntly in feminine handwriting. “Three right turns, two left, and one right.” His affianced was turning into quite a minx, and Julian felt his loins tightening at the thought of a stolen kiss or two. “Well, you must excuse me,” he said, his mind already on the taste of Elspeth’s soft lips. “I’ve someone I must meet.” He gave an absent bow to Mrs. Ames and took himself off with a smile.