Royal Revels (5 page)

“All gels are unwise,” she said comprehensively, but definitely including her niece in her condemnation. “Their greatest error is to think they can trust a man. I shall give you one short hand of cards before I retire, Belami.”

As the duchess liked to eat early, he had time for this before going to the Old Ship. After half an hour the duchess yawned and shoveled her ill-gotten gains into her reticule (for she always cheated at cards) and announced that she and Deirdre would go to bed now. It was eight-thirty.

“I suppose you will go chasing after Mr. Smythe?” she asked before leaving. He nodded.

“I’ve been thinking about your visit to that Gilham female tomorrow, Belami. Deirdre shall accompany you,” she told him.

“I’m afraid not, ma’am. It’s not the sort of place you would want your niece to visit,” he explained, trying to hold his temper in check for Deirdre’s benefit.

“Very true, but it is the sort of establishment she will be drawn into, now that she is betrothed to you,” she answered tartly, staring at him as though he were a toad. “You might as well get accustomed to it,” she added in an aside to her niece before returning her fire to Belami. “Furthermore, it’s clear the hussy has wound you around her finger. We need an objective third person present to hold her wiles in check. I don’t suppose she will be brass-faced enough to cast herself on your shoulder in front of another woman.”

Belami counted to ten, then cast a commanding scowl on Deirdre, tacitly ordering her to refuse.

“I shall be very happy to go with you, Dick,” she said with the greatest alacrity.

“Excellent. Then it is settled,” the duchess said. “We take breakfast at eight, Belami. Gammon and eggs, coddled eggs. Try, if you can, to convince your cook not to overcook them, as he did the fowl tonight. I feel a wretched bout of heartburn coming on. After you return from visiting the Gilham woman tomorrow, you might take Deirdre and myself around to Donaldson’s Library. I notice there is nothing fit for a lady to read in your book room here. Good night to you.” With this amiable speech she hauled herself from her chair.

“Good night, ladies.” Dick performed a stiff bow, holding in all his anger against the interfering dame. Nothing to read, indeed! There was a room full of the best literature available. Foolish old bint! What she meant was that she wanted the latest maudlin Gothic. And coddled eggs! He hated coddled eggs. A steak and a glass of ale was what he would order. Or here, by the sea, some smoked herring would be a pleasant change.

On top of it all, he hadn’t had more than a minute alone with Deirdre, and that he had destroyed by praising Lady Gilham. He felt some anger, too, that the duchess might be right about his susceptibility to that woman. Ladies in distress were his outstanding weakness. He’d be on his guard tomorrow.

Part of his anger he saved for his fiancée. Now that she was betrothed, she should be allowed more freedom; she ought to demand it. But what did she do? She trotted meekly up to her bedroom at eight-thirty without even sneaking back down to kiss him good night.

He put his curled beaver hat on his head at a cocky angle, threw his many-caped great coat over his shoulders, and struck out of the door. The Old Ship was close to home, not worth having the horses put to. It was just around the corner, at the meeting of Grand Junction Road and East Street.

He was still wearing a scowl when he entered the hotel and stamped the snow from his feet, but the friendly chatter from the card room, the warmth and the aroma of wine, ale, and tobacco soon raised his spirits. If Smythe weren’t here, he could at least have a game of cards with somebody who didn’t cheat. He stopped at the doorway into the card room and looked around at the tables, hoping to see an acquaintance. He wasn’t slow to recognize the broad face and bent nose of Pronto Pilgrim.

Pronto saw Belami even sooner. He lifted his cards to hide his face, but of course he had to peek above them to see if Dick had entered, and when he looked, Belami was smiling at him. Looked downright happy to see him, which was a shock. He was sure Dick would give him a rare Bear Garden jaw for coming down uninvited.

But, no, Dick was pacing forward with his hand out. “Pronto, you old son of a bachelor, what are you doing here? You might have stepped around to Marine Parade to say hello—or better, have come down with me as I was alone in the carriage.”

“Eh?” Pronto asked suspiciously. “Thought you was coming with Miss Gower.”

“Not with her, three steps in front of her, at a mad gallop of eight miles an hour.”

“Is Réal sick?” Pronto asked in alarm. Pierre Réal, Dick’s groom, was a famous fiddler.

“He is now after that funereal pace. What are you playing? Is there room for one more?” he asked, looking around at the other gentlemen. He didn’t recognize any of them and concluded that Pronto had taken up with some other travelers. There was no one at the table who fitted the description of Mr. Smythe.

“We’ve just finished the game,” Pronto said quickly. Very quickly. His blue eyes darted sideways to the gentleman on his left. “Let’s go into the common room and have a wet,” he suggested. “It’s thirsty work, cards.” There was a glass of ale at his elbow, but Belami knew this was only a ruse to get away.

He glanced to the left and saw a perfectly ordinary gentleman of advanced years. He wasn’t much younger than sixty, with silver hair and a weathered face. His clothing was not the work of Weston nor of any of the first-rate tailors, though it had aspirations beyond the provinces. There was a sham, crafty look on the man’s face and a good pile of money on the table in front of him. He deduced that Pronto had been fleeced and knew he must rescue him. He gave a civil, blanket sort of smile to the assembled group at the table and departed with Pronto.

“Demmed Captain Sharp fleeced me of a pony,” Pronto complained. “I watched him as close as could be and couldn’t figure out how he did it. The cards wasn’t shaved, but he never lost a hand.”

They walked along to the common room and took up a table near the fire. “Who is he?” Belami asked, hardly interested.

“Name’s Stack, Captain Stack,” Pronto said angrily. “Irish, as you might expect.”

“Captain Stack!” Belami exclaimed sharply. “Lord, no wonder he cleaned you. He’s a gambling friend of Prinney’s set. Too sharp for you, my friend.”

“How do you know him?” Pronto asked, but as the waiter came along at that moment and he had some involved explanations to deliver regarding the preparation of his rumbo, he missed hearing Belami’s explanation.

“Eh?” he asked when the waiter departed.

“He plays with Prinney. You’re out of your league, but if he only took you for twenty-five pounds, it’s not worth getting yourself shot over. Was there a Mr. Smythe in the room at all? Did you hear anyone mention him?”

“No, there was a Mr. Staynor and a Sir Giles somebody or other.”

“You’re sure Smythe wasn’t there?”

“Damme, no. What has Mr. Smythe to do with anything? I still have a good mind to call Stack out.”

“Don’t count on me as your second if you do,” Belami cautioned.

“Say, where’s Deirdre?” Pronto asked suddenly. “Has the duchess carted her back to London on you? I knew it was foolishness, bringing them along. Did you see the ladybird?”

“I did, and she’s some bird of paradise,” Belami said, then gave an approving nod. “How did you know about Lady Gilham?” he asked suddenly.

“Is that her name? I didn’t know who she was. You told me you was coming down to chase some ladybird. Told me yourself this very morning.”

“So I did. It seems weeks ago. Since you’re here, you may be useful to me, Pronto. The fact is, I’m involved in a case,” he said. “Perhaps we should take our drinks to your room to discuss it, if you’re interested.”

“Dash it, you know I’m interested. Why else do you think I jogged all the way down here? Knew you’d be needing me. Demmed risky to have brought the ladies with you.”

They met the waiter at the door and carried the bowl of rumbo upstairs themselves. When it was stirred and poured and the fire lit, they settled down to a recital of the case. Pronto listened with the keenest of interest, only slightly disappointed to learn that there was no falling out between his friend and Miss Gower.

“So that’s it,” he said, shaking his head. “Old Prinney is at it again. Don’t see why McMahon couldn’t have handled Gilham.”

After a little soul-searching, Belami decided Pronto’s staying at the same hotel as Smythe was too good an opportunity to waste, and he divulged the more important matter of the Smythe case as well. “You understand, of course, this is strictly
entre nous
, not to go an inch past this room.”

“You never have to worry about that, Dick. Mum’s the word. And is it George Smythe you’re talking about all the while?”

“That’s the name. He’s supposed to be staying here, they tell me.”

“Of course he is. Old George and I are bosom beaus. We had dinner together. We’re the only men here under fifty years old, it seems to me.”

“What can you tell me about him?” Belami asked eagerly.

“We ate in the common room. There wasn’t a private parlor to be had, Dick. Shocking the shifts a gentleman is put to when he leaves his home. He’s a bang-up fellow. American, you know,” Pronto told him.

“So I hear.”

“Well, here’s something you might not have heard,” Pronto said with an important face. “He reads Ben Franklin. Forever spouting his sayings.”

“What?” Belami asked, expecting some more impertinent information.

“Ben Franklin. Odd he didn’t mention being a royal duke. Or would he be a prince?” Pronto asked.

“Neither one, I assure you. He isn’t boasting of it then?” Belami inquired, visibly relieved.

“Never mentioned the word. Can’t be true. The fellow’s not at all well to grass. Was leery of ordering the second pigeon as he’s short of blunt. I treated him to it. Seems a shame a gentleman must go hungry. Funny thing, pockets to let never stopped Prinney from spending like a nabob.”

“He didn’t mention what he was doing this evening?” Belami asked.

“No. I asked him to sit down with me, but he had an appointment. With a lady, likely. He’s a looker.”

“You’ve got to introduce me to him as soon as possible.”

“That’ll be around lunchtime tomorrow. Meeting him in the common room. You’re welcome to tag along. I’ll nip over to Gilham’s place with you after, if you like,” Pronto offered.

“I already have Deirdre tagging along,” Belami said wearily.

“No! Dick, if you ain’t a jingle brain. You can’t take a lady along on such an errand.”

“Charney has decreed. What would be a real help to me is if you’d entertain the ladies for me while you’re here in Brighton and leave me free to do what I must do for the prince. They mentioned Donaldson’s Library in the afternoon.”

“Ain’t much for libraries,” he said doubtfully.

“You could pick me up a copy of Ben Franklin  while you’re there. It helps measure a man’s mind to know what he reads,” Belami added.

“Ain’t a reader myself, but I’ll be happy to oblige you,” Pronto decided, smiling fondly at the opportunity this would give him to cast himself in Miss Gower’s path. If Belami didn’t recognize red-hot competition when he saw it, it wasn’t his fault.

Then it occurred to him that perhaps Deirdre, too, measured a man’s mind by his books. “Maybe I’ll pick up something for myself while I’m there,” he said with a sly look at his friend. That would certainly impress Deirdre. She gobbled up books as if they were bonbons. Yes, by Jove, he’d take out a
big
book to impress her. Get a few lines off by rote—lines with words like
viz
and
ergo
and other foreign obscurities that Belami garnished his conversation with.

Belami remained at the hotel till midnight. As the rumbo sank lower in the bowl, Pronto began to notice many unhappy references to the duchess were creeping into the conversation. It was clear as a bell that Belami was already becoming disenchanted with his romance. What he actually said was that Charney was always on Deirdre’s skirt tails, preventing their having a minute alone, but a close friend could deduce (if he had the knack) that Deirdre was not asserting herself in that desired manner.

A docile girl wouldn’t suit Belami in the least, but she was exactly the article for Pronto, who was easy-going himself. He didn’t say a word against the match, but he let a doubtful frown pleat his brow and admitted that the future would certainly be “different” once the wedding took place.

“It certainly will,” Belami said firmly. “We’ll get away from that old harpy and be able to enjoy ourselves.”

Chapter Four

When the duchess came tripping into her niece’s bedchamber the next morning, Deirdre was sure she had changed her mind about allowing her to go with Belami to Lady Gilham’s. She was surprised that her aunt had suggested such a thing, but the real reason for it soon came out.

“I want a close description of her to relay to Lady Hertford,” she said, spite running amok on her thin face. “No one in London has heard a word of her. Take a good look at her and also at her establishment. Of course I shan’t breathe a word till everything is settled, but once it is the story is bound to come seeping out, and there can be no harm in having a few tidbits. I have half a mind to go myself, but I don’t think Belami would like it. He was none too pleased with your company,” she added spitefully.

“I’ll give you all the details,” Deirdre assured her.

She made a very careful toilette to ensure looking every bit as good as Lady Gilham. She meant to behave in a perfectly ladylike manner and to show Dick by her behavior the difference between a trollop and a lady. When she entered Belami’s carriage, she wore a fashionable new bonnet and a warm, sable-lined cape against the raw weather. She also wore an expression of ardent curiosity. It soon turned into a different expression.

As soon as the carriage pulled away from the house, Dick said, “I’ve figured out how we can handle this visit, Deirdre. I’ll have Réal drive you around town while I speak to Lady Gilham and come back to pick me up in, say, half an hour.”