The Counterfeit Gentleman (3 page)

“Indeed,” she said, and there was a touch of bitterness in
her voice, “with both beauty and fortune, as well as the proper family connections, I have been quite the belle of
the ball. But how can I determine which, if any, of the
young men courting me love me, and which ones love only
my grandfather’s money?”

“A common, yet not insurmountable problem with
heiresses, I believe.”

“If it were only that, I would take my chances and hope
for the best. But suppose ...”

She was quiet for a moment, and then he finished the
sentence for her. “Suppose one of your cousins is conspir
ing with one of your suitors, do you mean?”

“Oh, I am so glad you said that. After the number of ap
parent accidents that have befallen me, I feared I was inventing danger even where there was none. But if you see the precariousness of my position also, then I am not simply being hysterical.”

“Accidents? Tell me about them.”

She hesitated. “I feel so foolish mentioning them. Aunt
Euphemia—she is my guardian and is sponsoring me this Season—insists that I have been making a fuss about nothing. To her way of thinking, the accidents were the result of
mere happenstance, and if my imagination had not been
overly stimulated by the reading of too many lurid novels, I
would never have indulged in such flights of fancy.”

Miss Pepperell scowled and thrust out her lower lip.
“She went so far as to tell me that if I continued to cast as
persions on the character of such honest, upright, God-fear
ing men as my mother’s cousins, who are in every way
respectable, then I myself belonged in Bedlam.”

“I would say that being thrown overboard by two men
who openly admit that they were paid to kill you rather re
futes any suggestion that you might be imagining things.
But tell me more about the other supposed accidents.”

There were now subtle differences in the sound of the
sea, which meant they were approaching the shore.

“Well, to begin with, after one evening party I became
quite ill. Tainted oysters, my aunt said. But no one else was the least bit indisposed, and even though I knew it was far
fetched, I suspected poison.”

“Were your cousins present at the party?”

“Yes, and they each at one time or another brought
me something to drink. I was sick for several days and
weak for quite some time afterward. Then, only a sennight
after I began to go out in society again, I rode out to Hamp
ton Court with a group of friends. On the way home, the
cinch on my saddle broke, and I was saved only because
my escort was right beside me when it happened, and he managed to catch me as I was falling.”

“And had the cinch been cut?”

“No, it was merely old and rotten, so there did not appear
to be anything sinister about the accident. But our groom
insisted it was not the same cinch that had been on my sad
dle when I left our stable. I believed it to be a second at
tempt on my life, but Aunt Euphemia insisted that the
groom was fibbing in order to protect himself from being turned off for failing to do his job properly. She discharged him over my objections.”

“And your cousins? Were they at Hampton Court when
you were?”

“Who is to say? We spent an hour or so wandering
through the maze, and anyone could have come and tam
pered with my saddle and still been well away from there
by the time we emerged from the shrubbery.”

“And were there any other suspicious incidents?”

“Not only suspicious, but nearly fatal. A few days later,
when I was shopping with my maid, someone tried to
shove me under the wheels of a heavily loaded brewer’s
wagon. My aunt insists someone merely jostled me acci
dentally, and of course I have no evidence—nothing to
prove that she is wrong in her opinion. And yet in my own
mind I have not the slightest doubt that the blow was delib
erate ... and that the attempt came within a hairsbreadth of
being successful.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that your aunt herself might
be aiding and abetting one of your cousins?”

Miss Pepperell laughed. “If you knew my aunt, you
would know how preposterous that idea is. To begin with,
she is my father’s sister, and so could not, under any cir
cumstances, inherit anything from my grandfather, who
was my mother’s father.”

“One of your cousins might be paying her.”

“She does not spend all her income as it is, and she has frequently told me that I am her heir. She has been most
generous to me in the past, and I see no reason to doubt her
on that score. But the real reason I cannot suspect her is
that the rules of etiquette do not cover the subject of ridding
oneself of a superfluous niece. As a child, my aunt learned
how one should comport oneself in society, and I do not
think she has ever deviated from the proper path.”

Digory had met similar people, not only among the
haut ton,
but even in the little village in Cornwall where he had been raised, and he was forced to conclude that Miss Pep
perell was undoubtedly correct in her assessment of her
aunt’s character. Which was indeed fortunate since her
aunt was living in the same house.

“In any case, after the last supposed accident, I could not
stop looking over my shoulder, and I began to notice two
men who seemed to be loitering in my vicinity much too often. I begged my aunt to let us retire to Sussex, where I have an estate, but she refused to consider leaving London
in the middle of the Season—or rather, until I have ac
quired a husband. Last week I became so afraid, I resolved not to leave my room until my birthday. Despite my aunt’s scoffing at such extreme—and to her way of thinking, un
necessary—measures, I felt there was nothing else to be
done.”

“And?”

“And on Monday last—I am not entirely sure how long
ago that was, because those horrible men kept dosing me
with laudanum whenever I woke up enough to swallow it.
What day is it today?”

“Thursday,” Digory said. The sound of the surf was
louder now, and the fog was becoming lighter.

“Then it was only three days ago, while my aunt was at
the opera, that the larger of the two men who had been following me gained entrance to my grandfather’s house. How he managed that, I have no idea, although my cousins have
each had ample opportunity over the last several years to
make copies of the house keys.

“In any event, the man called Jacky-boy came into my
room while I was reading, and before I could cry out, he
had gagged me and trussed me up and was lowering me out
the window to his waiting henchman, whose name I never
heard. They brought me here to wherever we are.”

“The south coast of Cornwall,” Digory said. “They were
the men in the boat?” he asked, needing to be sure they
were dealing with only two hired assassins and not four.

“Yes,” the girl said bleakly.

The bottom of the boat grated on the sand, and Digory shipped the oars, then climbed out and dragged the boat up onto the shore, well above the high-tide mark.

Since it was virtually in his own backyard, Digory knew
this cove well, and many a night he had helped haul kegs of
brandy up from the beach to assorted hiding places. Quite
isolated from passing traffic, both on land and at sea, it was
perfectly designed for smugglers ... and for ambushes.

A great many rocks and boulders lay scattered at the base
of the low cliff, and some were sufficiently large to provide
cover for a troop of preventatives intent upon seizing an il
licit cargo—or for the band of smugglers who would be
waiting tomorrow to capture a pair of would-be murderers.

Holding out his hand to Miss Pepperell, Digory said,
“Come now, we are almost home.”

She was too chilled to walk well, and he had to support
her with an arm around her waist. He led her along the base
of the low cliff until they came to the narrow path, which
they climbed, leaving behind them the sea and the fog.

The man sitting in the darkest corner of the Double Anchor was not one of the London gentlemen who thought
it amusing to frequent low dives in Soho. On the contrary,
he was a man who appreciated elegance and luxury, and he
was, moreover, a man who was determined to become accustomed to a great many more of the finer things in life.

At the moment he was feeling especially pleased with
himself. His scheme for removing the only impediment be
tween himself and a vast fortune was proceeding in every minute detail precisely as he had planned it.

Although the earlier fog had prevented him from actually
witnessing his cousin being rowed out to sea, the mists had
cleared enough by the time the boat returned that he had
been able to see it held only his two hirelings.

They were a nasty pair, and they had made assorted
threats as to what would happen to him if he failed to keep
his end of the bargain. But he trusted them no more than
they trusted him. Only a fool believed that there was honor
among thieves. Unlearned and unlettered they might be, but
they were not too stupid to understand the basic principles
of extortion.

What had obviously never occurred to them was that he might not only be willing but also quite capable of shooting
them through the heart rather than submitting to blackmail.
At Manton’s he was adjudged to be a fine marksman, and
as to scruples, his desire to cut short his cousin’s life should
have made it clear to them that his conscience was oblig
ingly flexible when money was at stake.

What made this moment all the more amusing was the
knowledge that the two scoundrels had no idea that he had
followed them to Cornwall. It would never even occur to
them that the red-haired, unshaven sailor watching them
guzzle brandy might be the same person as the fastidious London gentleman who had daintily held a scented, lace-
trimmed handkerchief to his nose to protect himself from
the odoriferous fumes of Soho.

The wig had been a veritable inspiration, but then every
element of his plan was so well thought out, it was a pity
more people could not admire the beauty, the sheer perfec
tion of it all. As a strategist, he was without equal, a verita
ble nonpareil, a master of the art of intrigue and no small
hand at disguises.

No one could ever have the slightest suspicion that
things were not as they appeared to be, which meant his
success was assured.

* * * *

Jenny Cardin had seen an odd assortment of customers
come and go at the Double Anchor, but something about
the one now sitting in the corner with his hat pulled well
down over his face bothered her.

“‘Tisn’t that he don’t look like a sailor, and he talks
coarse enough,” she said to her husband, Tom, “but all the
same there’s something disturbing about him, and I’d be willing to wager good money that he never sailed before
the mast.”

“You’re not one to spook easily; doubtless he’s a
bad’ne.” Her husband slid a pint of ale across the counter to
her. “Take him another drink on the house and see if you can’t figure out what’s havey-cavey about him. Then if it looks like he’s going to cause trouble, I’ll have him out of
here so fast his ears will still be ringing come Michaelmas.”

The stranger said nothing when she set down the drink,
not even so much as a word of thanks. But when she went
back to the bar, Jenny was able to tell her husband what
had aroused her suspicions. “It’s his hands; they’re as pink
and soft as any lady’s,” she reported. “You s’pose he’s one
of them white slavers, come to steal some of our Cornish
maids away?”

“He’s got no eyes for the girls, that one don’t,” her hus
band replied. “I’ve been watching him since you pointed
him out, and all he’s doing is sitting there staring at them
other strangers.” With the merest nod of his head, he indi
cated two men who were already well to go, although the
sun was not yet high in the sky. “But whether he’s working
with ‘em or agin ‘em, it’s too soon to tell.” “Suppose they’re all three meaning to rob us?”
“Well, if they’re fixing to catch us off guard, I’d say
they’re the ones what will be surprised.”