Deadly Affair: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) (32 page)

Sir Charles smiled and shook his head. “For a diplomat, you are woefully romantic.”

Alec pulled a face. “It is merely a matter of separating the private from the public. Surely even His Grace is capable of the distinction?”

Sir Charles held up a lace-ruffled hand.

“Please. It was a compliment. I did not say so with derision but with genuine goodwill. But as you say, I know His Grace better than anyone, and so you may believe me when I tell you he takes no action, makes no grand gesture in life, without careful deliberation. Every action has a reason. Every decision made with all possible outcomes thought through before it is taken.”

“The consummate politician. Yet, what a dull private life...”

Sir Charles was unsure if Alec was being derogatory or merely making an observation given the smile that accompanied the remark. A devilish handsome smile used to great diplomatic effect, Sir Charles thought with a twinge of envy. He sighed and made Alec a short bow, the large bouquet now resting along the length of his left arm, conscious the hotel porter still hovered, eyes cast to the floorboards but no doubt with ears wide open.

“You must excuse me, my lord,” he said politely, a glance at the hotel porter. “I must not keep my hostess waiting her afternoon tea.”

And with another short bow he waved the servant onwards down the passageway, Alec looking after him with a slight frown between his eyebrows, for Sir Charles had sighed heavily without knowing it, such was his preoccupation with his thoughts.

That sigh bothered Alec. It was as if his friend from schooldays had a great weight upon his shoulders that could not be lifted. He had meant what he said about the Lady Henrietta’s engagement to the Duke of Cleveley not being fixed and for Charles to maintain hope. Yet, it seemed Sir Charles had given up all hope; but so soon as to offer another flowers? Alec had not the heart to mention that nestled amongst the profusion of purple and dark red petals he had spied an inert bumblebee. He hoped, for Sir Charles’s sake, the insect was shaken loose and remained inert before presentation. A little warmth would wake it and cause his friend more trouble than the gesture of the bouquet was worth.

Sir Charles would have been greatly surprised that his friend was concerned for his welfare for no sooner had he turned his back on Alec Halsey than he set his mind to the task ahead of him. He knew it was the right course of action; indeed it was the only option open to him if he hoped to maintain any influence, political or otherwise, with the Duke of Clevely’s heir apparent.

Any second thoughts were vanquished when he was shown to the door of the Arch apartment, the largest and most sumptuously furnished suite of rooms on offer at this exclusive establishment that numbered Dukes, Marquesses, Earls and Foreign Princesses amongst its select clientele. And now occupied, thought Sir Charles as he forced himself not to grind his teeth but fix a polite smile, by a beautiful heartless harlot whose very existence threatened the downfall of them all.

“You’re late!” Plantagenet Halsey grumbled at Tam. But there was no heat or passion in his voice, only concern. “Got to worryin’ unnecessarily when Mrs. Bourdon arrived back here in a chair and you weren’t two steps behind her.” He glanced about as the door opened again and in walked his nephew. “But now I see who kept you. I expected to see you hours ago, my boy. But I should’ve realized that flame-haired termagant would keep you detained. How is she?” he asked, ignoring his nephew’s grin. “And how’s her weaklin’ brother?”

“Selina is well; her brother less so but fairing better, though far from being able to be left to his own devices. They should be in Bath by sunset. There was an incident.” Alec told them about Billy and Annie Rumble’s abduction of little Sophie, the death of Billy by a person or persons unknown but assumed to be the London gentleman who had promised Billy a few guineas to take Sophie from her home adding, “You will appreciate that it is best we not mention any of this to Mrs. Bourdon until she is reunited with her daughter.”

“Egad! The poor woman would be beside herself. What d’you have there?”

The old man watched Alec unfurl Talgarth’s charcoal sketch of Miranda Bourdon on a table that had been set for afternoon tea with the hotel’s best silver and china. Alec placed a silver sugar bowl and a jam pot at opposite corners of the parchment to stop the paper curling in on itself.

“What do you think of her?” asked Alec.

The old man peered over his nephew’s shoulder. “It’s a creditable likeness.”

Alec’s laugh held a note of skepticism. “Creditable?”

The old man exchanged a look with Tam and smiled crookedly. “You ain’t seen her in the flesh, my boy.”

At the sideboard Alec poured coffee into three cups.

“Smitten, Uncle?”

“So will you be. I’ve been invited to dine with her, and you’ll come with me and judge her for yourself.”

When Tam hesitated to take the cup of coffee held out to him, Alec said kindly, “If you are to sit at my table, you must learn to accept with equanimity your new position within my household. Which means I may occasionally pour you out a cup of coffee.”

“But, sir—”

“As a young man of means you can no longer be my valet,” Alec stated, a glance exchanged with his uncle. “Mr. Blackwell bequeathed you a thousand pounds—”

“
A thousand pounds
?” Tam blurted out, the cup in his hand rattling on its saucer. He looked from Alec to the old man and back again. “Me, sir? A
thousand
pounds?”

“To complete your education, m’boy,” Plantagenet Halsey added, taking the cup of coffee Alec offered him. “And by my reckonin’, best use of a man’s blunt, too.”

“Just so, Uncle. And as a young man of means,” Alec continued smoothly, sipping at his coffee, “you, Tam, will have all the time you need to finish your apprenticeship while sitting at my table.”

“You should have the blunt, sir,” Tam suggested. “I owe it to you for all you’ve done for me; for the dispensary.”

Alec smiled and shook his head. “A fine gesture, Tam, thank you, but no. The legacy is yours and you must use it wisely. If you wish to repay me then do so by finishing your apprenticeship and honoring the memories of Master Apothecary Dodds and Mr. Blackwell. Now, tell me,” he asked, changing the subject because Tam was close to tears “what brought you to Milsom Street?”

“I followed Mrs. Bourdon from the Abbey like Mr. Halsey asked, sir, and that’s where the chairmen took her. She stood on the opposite side of the street watching the men load up that cart and then she got back in the chair and went down the street again.” He smiled sheepishly, taking a slice of seedy cake from the plate Alec held out to him. “Thank you, sir. I assumed she had the sedan chair bring her straight back here?”

“It did. Don’t know what got into her pretty head to go traipsing all over town given her delicate condition.”

“
Delicate
?” Alec pulled a face. “She’s with child?”

Plantagenet Halsey sucked in his thin cheeks, a glance at Tam. “Heavily with—er—child, my boy.”

“I wonder what possessed her to come to Bath at such a time?”

The old man put up his bushy brows. “Mr. Ninian Bourdon, perhaps?”

Alec was skeptical and sipped silently at his coffee, watching Tam consume every last cake crumb on his plate. He offered the boy a second slice, which was taken with another bashful smile.

“Jeffries says the hotel proprietor ain’t too pleased to have a woman stayin’ under his roof whose pregnancy is so advanced,” Plantagenet Halsey explained. “He don’t want the child born here, y’see. Bad for business. But Jeffries says the proprietor ain’t goin’ to say boo to Mrs. Bourdon not after he presented her with your note and seal upon it. So your elevation has proven useful after all.”

“Jeffries has settled himself in well; he could yet prove useful,” Alec commented, ignoring his uncle’s lopsided grin and Tam’s almost inaudible grumble about upstart footmen.

“One of the surly nose-in-the-air waiters told Jeffries that Mrs. Bourdon ain’t a Mrs. at all but a nabob’s fancy woman. Damned bare-faced cheek!”

“That may be closer to the mark than you think,” Alec answered quietly and was surprised when his uncle’s cheeks instantly glowed with embarrassment. “Dear me, you
are
smitten. Selina predicted as much.”

The old man ground his teeth. “Did she? Ha! Any excuse to lock horns with dear Mrs. J-L when she arrives!”

Tam felt he should contribute to the conversation, particularly when Hadrian Jeffries was bending himself over backwards to ingratiate himself into his lordship’s good graces. Besides which, he needed to voice his frisson of remembrance about Mrs. Bourdon, if only to have his master reassure him that the feeling he had met Mrs. Bourdon before was absurd and thus could be dismissed without consideration.

“Sir, you don’t think... With Mr. Vesey making all those sketches of Mrs. Bourdon, and she waiting outside his studio today... You don’t think they... That he and she... I know his valet says differently, but I can’t help thinking, what with her being with child...” He swallowed when Plantagenet Halsey glared at him and his lordship raised an eyebrow at the old man but said nothing. “Perhaps that’s why she’s come to Bath? To be with him. And she went to his studio today to see if he’d returned from London. I know she calls herself Mrs. Bourdon but just like the hotel waiter said, and you must forgive my impertinence sir,” he apologized to Plantagenet Halsey, “but I know for a fact that many unmarried women of a certain age do that. Not that Mrs. Bourdon is of an age to do so but she does have a child and another on the way. And in St. Judes parish there were plenty of females calling themselves Mrs. this-or-that, but they didn’t have husbands as far as I could see. Mr. Blackwell said they called themselves Mrs. to hide their shame and the shame from their brats who had no father who’d own them... You understand, don’t you, sir?”

“Yes, Tam,” Alec answered evenly. “Your skepticism regarding the excitable valet’s assertions that Mr. Vesey and Mrs. Bourdon are not lovers is justifiable. I was inclined to believe Nico when he said that Mr. Vesey saw Mrs. Bourdon in an entirely platonic, somewhat revered light: diffuse and wearing a halo. But perhaps I need to amend my confidence in the valet’s statement having discovered Mrs. Bourdon is with child?”

“If she’s a painter’s doxy, or any man’s wife in water colors for that matter, I’ll kiss Cleveley’s hoary big toe!” the old man spat out, finger jabbing at Talgarth Vesey’s sketch. “And I’ll have you take care with your low opinion of her when you meet her!
Both
of you.”

Tam held his tongue, not as confident as before, regarding his niggling suspicion he had met Mrs. Bourdon before. More coffee and cake were consumed in silence, Alec finally saying as he stood to take his leave, the short sharp rap on the outer door was Hadrian Jeffries come with the welcome news the hot scented waters of the large copper bath awaited him,

“I had no right to cast aspersions on the character of a woman as yet unknown to me, Uncle. For that I apologize.” Thinking of his own circumstances, he added quietly, “One should not make assumptions about a woman’s character if, for whatever reasons, she finds herself a man’s mistress.” He glanced at Tam and saw that the boy had put his cup on its saucer and lowered his gaze to the crumbs on his plate. He wondered if it was from embarrassment or guilt or a bit of both. “Yet, just because Mrs. Bourdon looks and acts the virtuous angel, Uncle, does not necessarily make her one. Tam’s remarks, the fact Weir believes she is party to Talgarth’s blackmail of Stanton, and when you consider she has already given birth to one bastard child and is pregnant with a second—”

“Well I don’t buy it!” argued the old man stubbornly. “You can think me a smitten old fool, and I don’t give tuppence for that, but she just don’t come across as the type who’d be party to blackmailin’ someone. There’s somethin’ about her... I wish I could put me finger on it... Most girls in her predicament are either brazen strumpets or over-emotional weeping pots, and yet she calmly goes about her affairs without a chaperone, ignoring the snubs of the hotel staff with her head held high and politely shaking hands with this old gent whom she doesn’t know from Adam and yet willingly allows him to escort her to church. To church! Bless her. Now off you go and have a good soak,” he added gruffly at his nephew’s self-restrained smile; nothing could hide the humor in his blue eyes. “A meditative soapy scrubbing will give you time to mull over what I’ve said. When you return to take dinner with me and finally meet her you’ll see that I am not dribblin’ pap about the woman!”

Alec made his uncle a small bow and silently took himself off, Tam about to follow to discover for himself what havoc Hadrian Jeffries had wrought with his fastidious ways, no doubt he had rearranged to his exacting standards Tam’s careful unpacking of his lordship’s portmanteaux, when in through the servant door shuffled a young woman, hands scrunching up the front of her plain muslin petticoats with worry.

Tam and the old man thought her come to clear away the afternoon tea things but when she hesitated in the doorway, bobbed a quick curtsey, and hovered in expectation of being addressed, Plantagenet ushered her forward. It was her hard stare at Tam that stopped him from leaving the room and when she turned to address the old man, he waited to hear what she had to say.

“Sir, the hotel porter told me this was the rooms of Mr. Plan—Mr. Plant—of Mr. Halsey. Is that you, sir?” When the old man nodded, the girl bobbed another curtsey. “Very good, sir. Mrs. Bourdon mentioned ye were kind to her. There’s no one else, no one else in Bath that knows her... Mr. Vesey ain’t at his studio...”

When the old man sat forward on his chair, a worried glance exchanged with Tam, the girl let out a shattering breath.

“She was al’right until her visitor. He upset her, sir. I don’t know what he said ’cause I was sent to fetch the tea. But I could tell him just being there was not right. I wanted to stay but Mrs. Bourdon sent me for tea and I was away such a long time on account of everyone in this place wantin’ their tea at the same hour, and the housekeeper not wantin’ to bother with searchin’ out a vase for the flowers he gave her, and then when a vase was found and I came back up to the rooms, he was gone and she was in a frightful state. Shakin’ all over she was and as white as white can be.”