Love's Harbinger (19 page)

Faith thought Guy was looking over his shoulder at Elwood. His head turned, and in the same instant, his foot rose. It came like a bullet aimed at Thomas’s gun. The gun flew into the air in an arc and Faith flung herself aside to avoid being hit. She saw the men wrestling, heard the heaving of bodies and the grunts and groans of men locked in mortal combat. When she managed to distinguish individual bodies, she saw Thomas was on the ground, facedown, with Guy on top of him, one hand twisted behind his back so hard she was sure it was broken.

She also saw Elwood standing, watching the struggle, but not taking any part of it. Guy got up and pulled Thomas to his feet. Ever the bounder, Thomas made one last try for freedom. “It was all his idea,” he said, and pointed to Elwood, but with his left arm. His right hung immobile by his side.

“You’re damned right it was, and if you’d stuck to the plan, we’d both be on our way to France instead of to jail,” Elwood called back. “But no, you had to have the lot, you greedy weasel.”

“You couldn’t have raised a penny without me!” Thomas said. “You’re nobody. I’m the one who made this deal possible. Why should I give you half my money?”

“I’ve heard the last insult from you, my fine gentleman!” Elwood said menacingly.

Faith felt herself being pushed aside, and a split-second later, a bullet whizzed past her ear. Guy had seen what was coming and had saved her. Thomas died quietly. There was just one last moaning sigh as he sank to the ground at her feet. Elwood didn’t bother trying to escape. He dropped his gun and straggled forward.

“Good shot, considering I had to use my wounded hand,” he said to Guy.

“That wasn’t wise, Elwood. Now you’re looking at murder.”

“I’d have hanged anyway. At least I managed to take him with me. He was right about his getting off. He’d have dumped the lot in my dish. It’s known as British justice.”

“You made your own bed,” Guy said, unmoved.

Guy’s groom, alerted by the shot, was coming forward now at a fast clip. He hopped down to help his employer.

His toe nudged Thomas, trying to turn him over. “Who is he?” he asked.

“The late Lord Thomas Vane.”

“He don’t look like a lord.”

“He didn’t act like one,” Elwood said, and got into the carriage, a defeated man.

Guy remained behind for a moment with Faith. She was massaging her neck with her fingers and looked up at him in the shadowy darkness.

“I’m sorry, Faith. I know how you felt about him,” he said softly.

Her answer was curt. “No, you don’t.”

“I do. You’re not the first person to have loved unwisely. It only seems unique to each of us. You came to warn him?”

“I came to warn you!” she said angrily.

He shook his head ruefully. “You don’t have to lie. I have no intention of publicly involving you in this mess.” He stopped and looked around at the empty street. “How did you get here? You won’t want to climb into my carriage with Elwood and . . .” He looked at the dark form on the ground.

“My carriage is a block away. Millie was supposed to warn you if she saw anything. She must not have recognized a young man in that disguise.”

“Millie? So that’s how you learned where Thomas was.” He turned to his groom. “You keep an eye on Elwood. I’m taking Lady Faith to her carriage.”

Millie came panting along the street. “I heard the shot! What happened, Lady Faith? I swear nobody went into the flat except an old gaffer dragging his limb behind him. Guy! Thank God you’re safe!” She threw herself into his arms and hugged him.

“I’m fine. I got him. See Lady Faith home, Millie.”

“Cor, blimey, she don’t need any help from me! Full of pluck—for a lady, that is.”

When he turned to Faith, his expression was wary. “Yes, I see. I’ve underestimated her gumption.” Then he turned on his heel and got into his carriage.

That’s all. He didn’t thank her, or apologize, or anything. He thought she tried to warn Thomas. She had risked her life for him, and what did she get? A blow to the neck that half killed her and insults.

“What happened?” Millie demanded.

“The old man was Thomas. I don’t know what happened, but I think there’s a corpse in the apartment.”

“Who could it be? Should we report it to Mather, I wonder?”

“Mr. Delamar will report it, I expect. I am going back to the hotel now. I wonder how Elwood got here.”

“He must of twigged to it that Tessie was leading him astray and got it out of her somehow. Except Tessie didn’t know . . .”     Millie thought for a minute. “He must of talked to Maggie. She’d sell her soul for a couple of quid. Of course, he wouldn’t let on why he wanted to know. There’s no other way he could find out, is there? I’ll hear all about it from Guy when he comes to the Cranborne Arms tonight,” Millie said.

“Yes, I expect that’s where he’ll go, all right,” Faith said stiffly. Any friendliness she had been feeling for Millie dissipated like a snowflake in a skillet. She was a fool to have tried to help Guy. He didn’t need her. He’d have done better without her interference.

Aunt Lynne began pelting them with questions as soon as they entered the carriage. Faith gave short answers till Millie had been let down at the Cranborne Arms.

“What really happened?” Lady Lynne demanded then. “I could see you didn’t want to speak in front of that young trollop.”

“As she said, Thomas is dead. Elwood shot him.”

“I made sure Guy would do it. It’s the best thing that could happen to poor Thomas now. He’d only have had to kill himself from shame. And Guy got the money, you say?”

“Yes, he has it. You’ll get your share back.”

“Excellent! I am very happy we came. It was worth it.”

“We should have stayed home,” Faith disagreed violently. “It isn’t over yet. There’s a dead man in Thomas’s apartment. I have no idea who killed him. We were fools to come on this errand, involving ourselves in this messy business. Mr. Delamar thinks I was there to warn Thomas, that I was planning to go with him to America.”

“Egad, you’re right! Folks will take the notion you had planned to run off with Thomas, as Guy thought. We must give this careful consideration, Faith, and see if we can dilute suspicion.”

“We’ll be fortunate if the whole isn’t printed up in Mam’selle Ondit’s column. I plan to return to Mordain Hall at once.”

“No, that would be the end of your chances. You must come back to London and brazen it out. We shall say . . . why, I’ll put about the story I took you to the country for a few days to recover from the canceled engagement.”

“I wish I had canceled it!”

Lady Lynne found this an auspicious moment to say, “You did. I had the foresight, back in Fareham, to realize there was no other way out for you.”

“You canceled it without consulting me!”

“Certainly I did. One learns what is best to be done from experience. Why else do you think parents send their chits to me to find them a husband?”

“You should have spoken to me first,” Faith said, but she was too relieved to add further animadversions. “In any case, I’m not going back to London. Graveston knows we were with Guy. He saw us.”

“He seldom ever goes to London.”

“He must at least write to people there. And we told him we were going to Bournemouth.”

“Then we must get back to London immediately, this very night. We could be there by tomorrow night if we sleep in the carriage and don’t stop except to change teams. If you’re seen at a rout tomorrow night, no one will believe you were in Bournemouth today.”

“You’re insane,” Faith said baldly. “Thomas is lying dead on the ground. I am in no condition to go anywhere, and I certainly wouldn’t be able to attend a party tomorrow night after jostling in a carriage for twenty-four hours.”

She might as well have remained silent. Lady Lynne’s mind was made up, and her only concern was to iron out any bothersome details. “We shall attend the Sedgeleys’ do. I doubt if word of Thomas’s death will have reached London, so we can pretend we know nothing about it or otherwise it would look rather odd, your being at a party. It is fortunate I sent in the retraction of the engagement from Fareham. That should have reached town already.”

“I don’t want to attend a party!”

“And you don’t want to give Delamar a chance to make it up with you, either, I suppose?”

“I certainly do not!”

“Then you’re an even worse ninny than I took you for. Don’t be an idiot. This is your chance to nab him. He’d jump at the chance of marrying a Mordain. He has money—he only wants respectability. Why do you think he inveighs so strongly against the nobility? A clear case of blue-blood cholic. He thinks you are above him and is as jealous as a green cow.”

“No, he’s not like that. He really hates us.”

“Good! If you’d said he was indifferent, I should be worried. Men always pretend to despise what they really want but think they cannot attain. He’ll have you, right enough. He was cutting up at me something fierce for putting forward the match with Thomas.”

“What—what did he say?” Faith asked.

“Plenty! And your alternative if you once go back to the Hall is to remain there the rest of your life, a spinster. I should think escaping that is well worth twenty-four hours jostling in a well-upholstered carriage.”

“We’ll see what Mr. Delamar has to say when he returns to the hotel,” she said, half appeased.

“Indeed we shall not. We’ll be long gone. He’ll have to come calling on us in London. Once he is in the door, we shall have a go at him.”

“We can’t just leave Bournemouth without even talking to him,” Faith remonstrated.

“I shall write him a note giving him permission to call at Berkeley Square.” And permission to pay her bill at the hotel, though she didn’t say so.

“But what about Thomas? We can’t leave his body here. We must do whatever has to be done.”

“I’ll mention it to Delamar” was the solution to this. “It is certainly not our place to attend to the mortal remains. Didn’t I tell you I have already written the notice canceling the engagement? Thomas Vane is nothing to us but a bad memory now and is best forgotten. It will be for his papa to come pelting down—or perhaps he’ll just send word to have the body interred here and keep the shame away from home. Yes, that is what he’ll do.”

“I think we should stay,” Faith said.

“That is why I am the chaperone and you the charge, because I know what is best to be done and you are a widgeon,” Lady Lynne decreed grandly. “If I listened to you, you would now be engaged to a corpse, my girl. Don’t forget that. I am leaving with my carriage as soon as I can get my belongings thrown together, and you are coming with me.”

Faith sat scheming the rest of the way to the hotel but could come up with no alternative plan. She knew it was wrong to shab off and leave Guy to clean up the mess, but it was the only way to disassociate herself from Thomas. And if she did not do that, any hope of another engagement was impossible.

She delayed packing as long as she could, in hopes that Guy would return. She even talked Aunt Lynne into the notion of having a box lunch packed to avoid having to stop. That took half an hour longer, but still Guy didn’t return. He was at the Cranborne Arms, which suddenly made her aunt’s decision to leave the proper one and no question about it. Without further ado, she closed up her valise and announced that she was ready to leave.

Chapter Thirteen

It was all well and good for Aunt Lynne to say Mr. Delamar would call “as soon as he got back.” That served as an excuse for the first few days. Faith did not expect him to put himself through the aggravation of a twenty-four-hour uninterrupted jostling in his carriage from Bournemouth to London only from eagerness to see her. He had a few matters to attend to before leaving, they all knew that. Someone had to manage Thomas’s funeral, or at least inform his father of the death. There would no doubt be evidence to be presented to Officer Mather and to a magistrate as well.

But when four days had passed and still Mr. Delamar did not present himself at Berkeley Square, Faith fell prey to dire misgivings. Not only did he not love her—he hated her. He was angry, and that man’s anger could annihilate her. Should she expect to read the whole unvarnished story in the
Harbinger
?
LADY FAITH MORDAIN’S FIANCÉ SLAIN IN ROBBERY ATTEMPT.
She would never be able to hold her head up again, or want to, if he did not forgive her. Even Lady Lynne grew impatient with him.

“I’m sure he must be back by now,” she declared as the ladies sat in the blue saloon, awaiting the arrival of the latest issue of the
Harbinger
. When the butler brought it in, they both made a grab for it, but it was Lady Lynne who was closer to the door and got hold of it first. After a quick perusal she settled down somewhat.

“There’s nothing in the paper yet about the Anglo-Gold affair, so I expect that young Fletcher got this issue out. (Thomas’s disgrace was being spoken of in Berkeley Square as the Anglo-Gold affair.) The feature story is on the by-election at Fareham and Mr. Shaft’s dismissal.”

“I’m sure Mr. Delamar has been in London for days,” Faith said. Her jaw took on a certain unattractive firmness as she spoke. “There is no reason to think he’ll come hot-footing to see us the minute he arrives. I’m sure I have nothing to say to him, but if he had any claim to propriety, he ought to call on you.” She had unconsciously determined that if Mr. Delamar despised her, she would discover no good in him, either.

“He might be spending a few days with Graveston. He said he would stop on his way to London, you recall.”

“That would please him, to batten himself on a duke,” Faith agreed.

“It would please the duke, that is for certain. Graveston was practically on hands and knees begging him to visit,” Lady Lynne replied, and turned the page to her favorite column. “Let us see what Mam’selle Ondit has to say today.”

When the lady’s only reaction was a few titters, Faith assumed their names were not among those chosen for lambasting. But her calm was soon shattered. “Now here’s something interesting! ‘Mam’selle predicts there will be a run on silver bullets in the near future when the Peerless Peeress, Lady Marie Struthers, announces her engagement.' He is speaking of gentlemen committing suicide in regret, you see. A bit of whimsy. ‘Our congratulations to Mr. D., our best wishes to Lady Marie, and our condolences to the bachelors of England.’ Mr. D.! Guy has popped the question, and Lady Marie was not as slow to jump at the chance as some young ladies. That is why he hasn’t bothered to call.”