Jo Beverley - [Rogue ] (47 page)

"We all have to make adjustments," said Beth. "And when you're married to his best friend—"

"Which will be never," said Blanche firmly, though Beth was interested to see that she blushed. "The man's wits have gone begging. I've told him I'll consider an... an arrangement."

Beth let the matter pass though if she'd been a gambling woman she would lay odds the White Dove's days of freedom were numbered. "Has everything been sorted out?" she asked, not able to bring herself to refer directly to the body.

"Yes," said Blanche. "Nicholas Delaney is a remarkably efficient gentleman. With some interesting accomplices. I didn't ask too many questions, but I gather the hired bullies have been press-ganged and the body, with identification removed, has been left in the warrens of St. Giles. He'll be found in a day or two, I suppose. In that quarter, no one's going to ask too many questions. Even Bow Street only goes there in numbers. Deveril had been known to haunt those parts looking for something to slake his tastes, so I don't suppose there'll be great surprise."

Beth shuddered. "He was more horrible than I imagined. It is incredible that men such as he be tolerated merely because they have inherited a title. Inherited privilege is very wrong."

"Perhaps," said Blanche with a smile. "But take my advice and fight the skirmishes, Beth, don't take on the war. There's plenty for good-hearted people to do without destroying themselves and those they love."

Beth considered her newfound friend seriously. "You mean Lucien?"

Blanche nodded. "He's making great progress, but you'll never turn him into a William Godwin or a Wilberforce. He's a damn-your-eyes de Vaux and always will be."

"I know it. And," said Beth with a rueful smile, "apologies to Mary Wollstonecraft, I wouldn't want him any other way. Which reminds me, I had better get on with my reason for coming here and return to Marlborough Square before he realizes I'm gone."

She paused a moment while Agnes brought the tea tray and Blanche poured. She sipped the tea, finding it a little hard to broach the subject. "Blanche, how do you feel about forgery? And, I suppose, burglary."

Blanche put down her cup. "They're hanging matters, Beth."

Beth licked her lips. "I know. But I doubt it would come to that anyway, with the power of the de Vaux family involved. Isn't that terrible?" she remarked. "I'm just as bad as they are."

"Beth," said Blanche. "Say what you have in mind."

Beth took a deep breath. "If what he told me is true, Deveril has no heir. The title and fortune will revert to the Crown. What if Clarissa was his heir?"

Blanche sat up straighter. "A will?"

Beth nodded. "It would have to be found in his house," she said. "I think that's the most dangerous part."

"We'd need a sample of his writing."

Beth sat with her hands gripped together. She must be mad. This was definitely against the law. Inexcusable. Except, of course, that it would solve so many problems. "Deveril was reputed to be very rich," she said out loud. "When the will is found, Lucien's solicitor could make sure at least some of the money was tied up for Clarissa. Her family would take the rest, no doubt. It should keep them out of the Fleet for a while."

"And, little as I like the sound of them, they will make better use of it than Deveril ever did," said Blanche.

"And why should it go into the bottomless pit of the government? The Regent would only buy another gold trinket or two."

They looked at each other, both slightly awed by the plan.

"Can it be done?" Beth asked.

Blanche nodded. "Will you tell Lucien?"

"I don't know," said Beth.

There was a sharp rap of the knocker. Agnes came hurrying across the hall. Blanche said, "I have a feeling...."

Beth said, "So do I." She felt her nerves begin to twitch.

Lucien walked in. "You," he said to Beth, "need to be locked up."

Despite the words, he couldn't help but smile, and she couldn't help but echo it. It was nearly two hours since they'd parted, after all.

He sat down beside her and took her hand. "Tell me what you're up to. The whole truth."

Despite the smile, Beth knew the demand was serious. Wishing her heart wasn't doing a nervous dance in the back of her throat, she gave him a speedy outline of her idea.

"My God, woman!" he exploded. "I'm revising all my notions of wife-beating."

"Ha!" she snapped back. "As soon as you're crossed—"

"Crossed! You're looking to me to save you from the noose! Peers of the realm have been hanged before now, you know. And having it done with a silken rope can't be much consolation."

Beth just looked at him. After a moment his lips twitched. "It is a rather clever plan," he said more moderately. "Better than Nicholas's, in fact."

"Nicholas's?" both women said.

"I've just come from there. Via Marlborough Square," he said with a mock frown, "where I discovered my poor exhausted wife had recovered her energy."

Beth just gave him a saucy smile. "What is this about a plan of Nicholas's? What interest has he in Clarissa?"

"None, but he has his own reasons for wanting to deprive Deveril of his money. Since it's all sitting there in his house in steel-banded chests, we had pretty well decided to go in and take it."

"House-breaking!" exclaimed Blanche. "You're all mad."

"Not really. We have a peer of the realm, a de Vaux, and a member of parliament on board, not to mention the disorder at Deveril's place because of his disappearance and the growing chaos in the streets because of the celebrations. Which reminds me," he said to Beth with exasperation, "of all the days to choose to walk about unescorted, why pick today?"

"Because today is today," she retorted. "And, I should point out, I've been walking the streets unescorted all my life. And," she said, rolling over his attempt to speak, "it occurs to me to wonder how long you overgrown schoolboys have been hatching your plan and why you never said a word to me."

"Overgrown schoolboys!" He swallowed that and continued, "It was nothing to do with you, Beth. It was old, unfinished business."

"It was to do with me when I expressed concern about Clarissa being forced to marry the man. You just stormed out, thinking I was complaining about our affairs."

He frowned in puzzlement. "Oh, that time. But you never mentioned who the husband was to be. It was only the other night that I realized Deveril was involved. It was only then I developed any sympathy for the girl. I thought she was just being miss-ish."

Blanche, who had been the fascinated audience of this squabble, cleared her throat. "We were discussing burglary, forgery, and a number of other criminal offenses," she reminded them.

"So we were," said Lucien. He turned to Beth. "I think what we ought to do is go over to Lauriston Street and put your idea to Nicholas, but I don't think we should involve Blanche any more than necessary."

Beth rose. "Of course not. I only came here because I hadn't the faintest idea how to bring about anything illegal and I thought Blanche might." She turned to the actress. "Do you?"

"Not from first-hand experience, no," said the actress dryly. "But I have a few disreputable friends. Including, it would appear, Lucien de Vaux."

He grinned unrepentantly. "And Hal Beaumont. He's at Nicholas's." He winked. "Why don't you come with us?"

Blanche blushed again. "I have lines to learn for tonight."

"Coward," teased Lucien.

Blanche glared at him.

Beth stood and shook hands with the White Dove. "I'll see you again soon, my friend."

"No, you won't," said Lucien.

"When you're Mrs. Beaumont," said Beth firmly.

"Which will be never," retorted Blanche.

Beth simply laughed at both of them.

* * *

When they arrived at Lauriston Street, the house was crowded as usual. Eleanor rolled her eyes at Beth. "Have you heard? They're all quite mad. I expect to live to see them strung up in a row."

"I think we have a slightly less dangerous plan to offer," Beth said. As she took off her bonnet, she watched Eleanor, but if she noticed the bruise she gave no sign.

When they were settled in the drawing room Lucien gave Beth the floor to explain her plan. Despite her belief in equality, she felt rather nervous to be addressing a large group of men—six members of the Company of Rogues, Peter Lavering, and a rotund little man called Tom Holloway.

When she'd explained, however, everyone approved.

"I like it," said Nicholas. "It has subtlety and I do like subtlety. Apart from planting the will in Deveril's house, there's no real danger. I know an excellent forger I can trust."

Tom Holloway said, "We'll need a sample of his writing, Nick, and it has to be done quickly. If the will's found in his desk as soon as the body's discovered, it's less likely to be questioned than if it turns up after the event."

"I wonder if Clarissa has anything he wrote," said Lucien.

Beth gave a little gasp. "Probably not, but I have!"

"What?" he asked.

"When Clarissa first came to see me she brought a letter he'd written her. It was more like a list of rules for his wife. A horrible thing. She left it and I forgot all about it. It's between the leaves of
Self-Control."

"Remarkably inappropriate," said Lucien. "We'll send it over and trust Nicholas to handle the rest of it. If you don't mind, Nicholas."

"Not at all," he replied. "There's little to connect me to Deveril."

"And what's more," said Beth, "once this succeeds, it should make sure Clarissa keeps the secret. To let it out would lose her the fortune."

Lucien looked at her and shook his head. "You seem to have lost all moral scruples. A case of galloping depravity if ever I saw one."

Beth couldn't help but smile at the memories his words evoked, and she saw him take a sudden breath. "Having settled this unholy pact, Beth," he said quickly, "we're leaving." To Nicholas he said, "We'll send over the handwriting."

Nicholas and Eleanor walked them to the door. "Mad adventures suit you both," Nicholas said and yet Beth was sure he had seen the mark on her face and interpreted it truly. In dismissing it, of course, he was quite correct. It was a mischance along the way, nothing more.

"On the whole," said Lucien, "I think I prefer a quiet life. I died a hundred deaths yesterday after seeing Beth sitting there with a pistol trained on her."

"Love can be the very devil, can't it?" Nicholas said, wrapping an arm around his wife.

"But on the whole, it's all it's cracked up to be," said Lucien, drawing Beth to him, "once one's got the knots worked out, that is."

"Have I been such a tangle for you, Lucien?" Beth inquired solicitously.

"I have been thoroughly entangled," he said with a warm look.

There was a sharp rap at the door.

Nicholas opened it and a lad shoved a paper at him. "There you are, guv." The boy ran off to make his other ordered deliveries of the special edition.

They were all abruptly sobered. Nicholas looked at the paper then up at Beth and Lucien. "Do you want to know?"

"Of course," said Lucien.

They went back into the drawing room. Silence fell. Nicholas opened the paper and scanned the page. "God, what a list," he muttered. "And the damned thing is it can't be complete...." He ran his eyes over the fine print then stopped, as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes.

Then, "Dare," he said.

He passed the paper over to Hal Beaumont and went to stare out the window. Eleanor joined him and after a moment he drew her to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

Beth looked at Lucien, a very sober Lucien. She reached out and took his hand. She'd only known the lighthearted young man slightly. He'd been the one who had once tried to build a champagne fountain. She remembered dancing with him at her betrothal ball. "I'm sorry," she said softly. It was inadequate, but it was all she could think to say.

He squeezed her hand. "He wanted so much to be part of it." He looked at Hal. "Are there any more?"

"Many, many more," said Hal, grim faced. "I'm sorry. I know too many of these fellows. I don't see Con." He passed the paper blindly to Stephen Ball and hid his face in his hand. After a moment he looked up. "Do you think... would Blanche turn me from the door?"

"No," said Lucien.

Hal walked out.

Stephen said, "I don't think Con's name is here. Or Leander. As Nicholas said, the list can't be complete but there's hope." He passed the paper on to Miles Cavanagh.

Nicholas came back and poured wine for all, making it clear he was about to propose a toast. Everyone stood. "The Company of Rogues is now nine," he said soberly. He raised his glass. "To all the fallen: may they be young forever in heaven. To all the wounded: may they have strength and heal. To all the bereaved: may they feel joy again. And please God," he added quietly, "may there one day be an end to war."

He drained his glass and sent it smashing into the empty fireplace. Everyone followed suit, even Beth, though she was shocked by the moment.