The Switch (12 page)

"I told Bessie we would take the puppies downstairs to her so that she could take them outside for a few moments," Beth commented, finishing with her hair.

"Good idea." Charlie scooped three of the mutts up, then waited as her sister gathered the other tliree.

"They are adorable, are they not?" Beth laughed as they all tried to climb up her bosom to lick her face as she followed Charlie into the hall.

"Aye," Charlie agreed, starting down the stairs. She was on the second last step when a gasp from Beth made her glance back. With her hands full of puppies, the girl had been unable to hold her skirt out of the way while traversing the stairs. Her foot had apparently tangled in her skirts and she was now teetering on the sixth step, alarmed.

Dropping the three puppies she held, Charlie started up the steps even as Beth
dropped her three and reached wildly for something to save herself. Charlie was just in time to catch Beth as she tumbled forward. Grunting under the sudden impact, Charlie stumbled back, her foot coming down on nothing but air. Crying out in alarm now herself, Charlie braced herself as they crashed to the floor… at Radcliffe's feet.

"Are you all right?" he asked, kneeling beside them with concern as Beth rolled off her sibling.

"Aye," Beth assured him quickly, then turned to her twin. "Oh, Charles. Are you all right? You did not hurt yourself, did you? I am so sorry. Thank you for catching me. You are not hurt, are you?"

"I am fine," Charlie murmured with a grimace, forcing herself to sit up. "Do not fuss. What about the puppies? We did not land on any of them, did we?"

They all glanced around now at the empty entry.

"Where did they—" Radcliffe's question died as cursing, shouting, and banging erupted from the kitchen.

"Oh, dear," Charlie muttered, jumping to her feet and rushing down the hallway with Beth and Radcliffe hard on her heels. The minute Charlie pushed the kitchen door open, six dark blurs whizzed past her, yipping for all they were worth as they raced down the hall. Cook was the next through the door, nearly knocking Charlie on her back again as he charged past, face purple with rage, a meat cleaver in hand, and cursing a blue streak as he hunted his quarry.

Grabbing for the door to keep her balance, Charlie glanced at Bessie as the girl hurried forward, followed by Stokes.

"I am sorry, my lord. 'Tis all my fault. I heard a cry from the hallway and started out of the kitchen to see what was
amiss, but when I opened the door, the dogs came charging in. Cook tried to kick one and fell, sending breakfast flying everywhere. Then he grabbed the cleaver and started after them before Stokes or I could do anything to stop him." She gave this explanation as she and Stokes chased after Charlie, who had taken one look at the mess on the kitchen floor and headed after the furious cook. She found him in the salon, chasing the puppies around the sofa and waving his cleaver madly.

"Cook!" Radcliffe snapped, coming up behind Charles.

The man slid to a stop at once, but his furious expression remained as he whirled to face his employer. "They have
ruined my breakfast! They are a nuisance. I will not have such goings-on." Pausing, he drew himself up staunchly. "Either they go… or I do!"

"Oh!" Beth cried, turning a pleading look to Radcliffe as her twin moved forward to shepherd the pups a safe distance away before turning to peer at Radcliffe pleadingly as well.

Scowling, Radcliffe glanced from Charlie to the cook. "An ultimatum? Then
'Tis you who goes, master cook," he announced firmly, eliciting a shocked gasp from the man.

"But, my lord, I have served you faithfully for several years now."

"You have served me
poorly
for several years now," Radcliffe collected dryly. "You are the worst cook I have ever had. The only reason I put up with you for this long was because I was not here often enough to care and did not have the time to trouble with hiring a replacement. Howbeit, sirrah, your meals are bland, generally cold, and unsuitable to serve my guests. It has become obvious to me that you cannot perform your job. Good day to you."

Charlie watched wide-eyed as the man sputtered briefly, then turned and
stormed down the hallway. She felt a brief pang of guilt, then caught the satisfied gleam in Stokes's eye as he watched the man go. She began to relax a little. The man was a rotten cook. And he had treated the staff horribly. This was for the best.

Holding her skirt out like a basket, Bessie began scooping puppies up into it, and Charlie moved quickly to help her.

"I am ever so sorry, my lord," the maid murmured, taking the two puppies Charlie had gathered and adding them to the other three in her skirt. "
'Tis all my fault."

"Nay, it is not," Charlie assured the girl firmly.

"Charles is right," Beth announced, collecting the last puppy and joining them. "It sounds as if cook was a thoroughly nasty man. Besides, he would not have
ruined breakfast had he not tried to kick one of the precious creatures. He got what he deserved. His meals really were rather bland. Radcliffe will do better with another cook."

They all glanced toward the doorway where the man had been, but he had slipped silently away. The click of the front door closing drew Charlie to the window in time to see him climb into his carriage. When she turned back to the room, Bessie was gone, taking the puppies with her.

"Was that Radcliffe leaving?" Beth asked.

"Aye," Charlie said thoughtfully, then headed for the door.

"Where are you going?"

Pausing at the door, she glanced about to be sure that no one was around to hear, then said, "Now seems the perfect time to accomplish that little
task
we talked about."

"Mr. Silverpot?" Beth whispered, eyes round as she hurried forward to clasp her hand anxiously. "Do you wish me to come with you?"

Charlie hesitated, then shook her head. "You look all done in. Why do you not return to bed and rest a while longer? I shan't be long."

Charlie watched from her window as Radcliffe helped Beth into the carriage. She waited until he got in and it pulled away before chopping the curtain closed again and gathering the sack of coins Mr. Silverpot had given her that afternoon for a couple of her mother's jewels. The transaction had gone without a hitch. She had hired a hack to take her to the jeweler's, had been greeted warmly as "Charles," and been paid far more for the gems than she had expected.

Thanking the man, Charlie had headed right back to the townhouse to find Beth entertaining Tomas Mowbray in the salon. Radcliffe had arrived almost directly behind her and taken them all out to lunch. It was after lunch, while they had been walking in the park, that Charlie had begun to complain of weariness. When they had returned to the townhouse, she had announced herself far too weary to be bothered attending a ball that evening. She had waited just long enough to see Radcliffe accept that news and assure Beth that he would escort her, then Charlie had fled to her room to pace until Beth joined her.

She had spent the rest of the time between then and now helping Beth prepare for the ball and convincing her that all would be well. She would not get hurt during this endeavor. She would convince the blackmailer to leave them alone, at least until they had both found husbands and were safe. She would be careful.

Now, she repeated those same reassurances to herself as she sneaked out the front door of Radcliffe's townhouse and hired a hack.

Charlie alit from the carriage several streets later, paid the driver, then glanced about a bit nervously. This was not exactly a good area.

The street was poorly lit, the people walking it unsavory.

Slipping her hand into her pocket, she clutched the sack of coins, hunched her shoulders, and started up the sheet. The instructions had said that she was to go to an alley next to a Madame Claude's confectionery. Charlie had had the driver drop her off a block before the place so that she might scout the area. She was not eager to enter a dark alley on her own and had hoped that the walk there would reassure her.

She was not reassured. If anything, having a closer look at the menacing, shabbily dressed men she was passing and the dilapidated state of the shops she walked by was making her extremely edgy.

Passing Madame Claude's, she reached the mouth of the alley and hesitated. It was extremely dark in there. And there was a most unpleasant odor emanating from it.

Biting her lip, Charlie peered into the darkness nervously, then took a deep breath, straightened her shoulders, and plunged into the alley. The first thing that overwhelmed her was the odor. It smelled as if something had crawled into one of the alley's dark
corners and died. Covering her nose with distaste, she continued forward, peering carefully into the shadows, trying to ensure that she was not passing anyone who might come out from behind and jump her. She might as well not have bothered. It was impossible to penetrate the inky blackness around her.

"Hurry up, damn you."

Charlie stiffened at that husky whisper from ahead, eyes widening as she searched the black wall she faced. She had just spotted a slightly darker shape among the blackness when the voice hissed impatiently again. "Come on. Come on. We don't have all night."

Swallowing, she took several steps toward the shape, then paused to ask warily, "Is that you?"

There was no mistaking his disgust as the shape shifted impatiently. "Who else would it be, Charlotte? Now give me the damn money."

Charlie grimaced at her proper name. "How do I know you will not demand more? Or tell on us?"

"You do not. You will just have to take your chances."

Charlie scowled at the shape. He sounded educated. One of the nobility. A gentleman, she guessed, even though blackmailing and forcing a lady to meet him in this alley were hardly the actions of a gentleman. He was probably one of her uncle's mates. Which was worrisome. The last
thing she and Beth needed was his informing their uncle of their whereabouts. She was trying to come up with a way to elicit a promise that he would not do so when the blackmailer suddenly shrank back into the darkness, whispering angrily, "I told you to come alone."

"I did," Charlie said with some surprise.

"Charles! Is that you?"

Gasping, she whirled toward the mouth of the alley, recognizing Radcliffe's backlit form at once. "What are you doing here?" she cried with alarm.

"More to the point, what are
you
doing here?" he snapped, starting up the alley toward her. "You are suppose to be at home resting."

"Get him out of here," the blackmailer hissed behind her.

"Good Lord! This alley smells." Pausing, Radcliffe tugged a handkerchief from his pocket, covered his nose, and continued forward.

"Go!" the voice from the darkness hissed, giving Charlie a shove forward.

Radcliffe grabbed her by the collar as she stumbled forward, then turned to drag her back out of die alley. "This is deplorable. Hanging about in alleyways. What did you do, spot me following you and duck in here to try to lose me?"

"Of course not," Charlie snapped, pulling free and straightening her collar before turning to glare at him. "And what are you doing following me?"

"Trying to keep you out of trouble."

"I am not
in
trouble."

An inelegant snort was his only response.

"My lord," Charlie got out between clenched teeth. "I am a full grown wo… er… man. I do not need a keeper."

"I fully agree, and if it were not for your sister, I would leave you to ruin yourself."

"What has my sister to do with this?"

"Did you really think I would allow you to gamble her money away?" When the lad stopped walking to peer at him blankly, Radcliffe
stopped as well. "I saw Mr. Silverpot this afternoon, Charles. I know about the jewels you sold. I wasn't sure if Elizabeth knew what you were up to, so I wanted to confront you alone about it but did not get the chance. When you said you were feeling weary and wished to stay in and rest this evening, I decided our talk could wait until tomorrow."

Charlie arched one eyebrow at this. "What changed your mind?"

"Elizabeth." .

Charlie stiffened. "Beth told you—"

"Nay. Nay. But she was so distracted and anxious on the way to the ball, I realized that something was
amiss. I hurried home just in time to see you hail the hack. I had my driver follow you. As soon as I saw the hack drop you off, I realized what your plans were, and I will not allow it."

"Allow what exactly?" she asked curiously.

"I will not allow you to gamble away yours and Elizabeth's money," he snapped impatiently. "Now give them to me."

"Gamble the money away?" she murmured with bewilderment, ignoring the hand he held out for the coins. "How did you come to the conclusion that that was my intent?"

Radcliffe heaved a sigh of exasperation. "Charles, you had the driver drop you off right in front of a
gaming hall."

"I did?" she asked with surprise. Charlie had not been paying close attention to where she'd been
dropped off, she'd been too busy watching the riffraff on the street.

"You know you did," Radcliffe snapped. "But I did not go in," she argued.

"You must have seen the Radcliffe coach pull up as you alit," he said with a shrug.

"All… aye. I must have." A slow grin began to spread across her face. His explanation for this night's jaunt was far preferable to the truth, and while she could no longer pay the blackmailer tonight, she had no doubt he would arrange another meeting. The scoundrel could hardly hold
her
accountable for this night's failure. Especially since she was sure he had overheard every word of the discussion she and Radcliffe had just had.

"Well, you have found me out," she confessed eagerly now. "I suppose gambling
is in my blood. Runs in the farmly. All, well, 'Tis for the best that you stopped me, I suppose… Let's go." Grabbing his
arm, she urged him toward the mouth of the alley, eager to escape the fetid atmosphere.

"Just a moment." Radcliffe turned on her grimly and held out his hand.

"What?" She glanced warily from his hand to his face and back.

"The money."

"Oh." Her lips twisted with displeasure. "There is no need for that. I will not gamble it away now."

"The money, Charles," he repeated firmly and Charlie shifted impatiently.

"It is mine, Radcliffe."

"Yours and Beth's. Were you the only one involved, I would let you gamble the coins away. But they are yours
and Elizabeth's
. Now, give them to me."

Her teeth ground together in frustration. "I shall give them to Beth."

"
I
shall give them to Beth." He pushed his hand out until it nearly touched her bound and vested chest.

Charlie glared at him resentfully, but dropped the sack of coins into his hand. "There. Can we go now?"

"Not quite," he announced calmly, bringing her to a halt when she would have whirled on her heel and stormed out of the alley. Reaching into the sack, Radcliffe retrieved a couple of coins and handed them to Charles, then stowed die sack in his pocket.

"What are these for?" she asked dryly.

"For you to use in the gaming hall. Since you are so determined to go, I shall take you. But."

he added when her eyes widened in surprise, "that is all you shall play with. Once those are lost, you are done. I only hope this will teach you what a foolish venture gambling really is and dissuade you from frittering your inheritance away in such a manner."

Charlie gaped at him as he turned to leave the alley, then hurried after him. "You are taking me to a
gaming hall?"

"Much against my better judgment, aye."

Charlie sighed at this news. She had failed to pay the blackmailer, so still had that to worry about. Worse yet, Radcliffe had confiscated the payoff and she would have to replace it. Obviously, Mr. Silverpot could not be trusted to keep his mouth shut, so they would have to find another jeweler. Which was risky.
The new jeweler could rob them blind. On top of that, she had been tense and anxious since receiving the blackmailer's letter, then terrified and nervous tonight on her escapade, and simply wasn't in the mood for a
gaming hall tonight. But she could hardly say all that and did not wish to make Radcliffe suspicious, so she would have to humor him and go.

Radcliffe paused suddenly and Charlie glanced up to see that they had retraced her route along the block and now stood at the entrance to the hall. Their way was blocked by a rather large, bald, muscular looking man. Arms crossed, he was shaking his head at a tall woman in rather poor quality but clean, plain clothes who stood before him, holding hands with a small boy on one side and a young girl on the other. "Yer not gettin' in, I tell ye."

"But—" the woman began desperately, pausing when she realized that he was no longer paying attention and was glancing from Radcliffe to Charles.

"Evenin', me lords," lie murmured, opening the door, then moved the woman and her children aside not ungently to clear the path for them. "In ye go and good luck to ye."

Radcliffe nodded and strode inside. Charlie, dismayed that the woman would even consider taking her children into such a place, followed more slowly, her gaze taking in the tear-stained face of the woman, along with the exhausted and hungry expressions of the children. They should have been home in bed, not standing outside a gambling den while their mother begged for entrance. Gambling was truly a sickness, she thought grimly as the doorman firmly shut the door behind them. And one she did not wish to acquire.

Sighing with sudden depression, she turned to peer at the room she now stood in. It was brightly lit. Candles and lanterns sat on every surface, the smoke rising from them to join the smoke from the cigars and pipes at least half of the patrons had clamped between their teeth. The combination created a solid cloud that hovered at ceiling-level.

"Why is it so bright in here?" she asked with dismay, peering about at the gamblers and garishly dressed women in the room.

"To reduce the chance of cheating."

"Oh." Lifting a hand, she fanned her face briefly. It was at least twenty degrees hotter in here than it had been outside. Between the smoke, candle flames, and heat, she decided she now knew why some called these establishments
gaming
hells
.

"Come." Radcliffe moved farther into the room and Charlie followed with a grimace. Truly, she would rather have turned around and left. Between her uncle and the little scene at the door, she had been cured of any desire to gamble, and she had seen enough to
satisfy any curiosity she may have had. The gamblers seemed to be made up of two types of men, those who played their games with indifference, and those who hovered with a sort of desperation at the tables. There was only one sort of woman present: cheap, made-up, there to coax winners to make larger bets. Not one bothered to comfort the losers.

"Shall we try 'Laugh and Lie Down' first, or 'Noddy'?"

Charlie wrinkled her nose at the mention of the card games. Then, spotting a table where several gentlemen were playing dice, she drew his attention to it. "I think I would prefer that game."

"Hazard?" When she nodded, he led her silently to the table.

Hazard appeared a relatively simple game. The man who held the two dice threw them, and lost or took another roll depending on the results. It appeared that anything under five or over nine on the first roll made you a loser, whereas a five to nine let you roll again. If you were fortunate enough to roll the same sum once more, you won outright; if not, depending on what you did roll, you either lost, won, or were able to roll yet again. Once she'd gathered all that, Charlie turned her attention to the players.

The fellow presently controlling the dice played with an air of bored unconcern. That, combined with his expensive clothes and the jeweled baubles he wore, told her that this was all just entertainment to him and that the king's ransom in coins he was throwing away meant nothing. His supercilious smile as he paid out his losses and handed the dice to the man on his left spoke to the fact that he knew the same was not
true for that man.