‘It's Charles,’ Fitzroy, rather unnecessarily, informed the Captain.
‘Quiet, you fool. Do you want the whole of London to hear you?’ replied Osborne in an exasperated undertone. ‘Here, help me to get him inside. No, wait. Go in and see if my man's waiting up for me. If he is, tell him—oh I don't know—tell him anything, but get rid of him!’
Fortunately, for Lord Fitzroy's powers of improvisation were not high, the batman was found to be snoring in another room with an empty bottle of gin beside him. Carlington was carried tenderly into Osborne's sitting-room and laid upon a sofa. He was alarmingly pale and had quite a healthy growth of beard, a fact that Fitz took in with a slight shudder.
‘You know, I d-don't like that,’ he told Osborne, indicating Carlington's whiskers. ‘D-Don't know what Charles c-can have b-been thinking of. Not himself at all.’
‘Of course he isn't, you idiot! How do we know what he may have been through? Fitz, this proves Charles didn't kill Farnley. It stands to reason he wouldn't have come back to London if he had.’
‘That's t-true,’ answered Fitz sagely. ‘Mind, I wouldn't want to have to c-convince a jury of that!’
‘Never mind talking of juries. Get some of that brandy; I think he's coming round!’
Half an hour later the bottle was empty and Charles, having finished off the best part of a York ham and a large loaf of bread, was looking very much more like his old self. Osborne had insisted that Charles should be fed before attempting any explanations and now, having seen his friend supplied, he invited him to tell his story.
‘Before you begin, Charles, there is one thing I have to ask. Did you have anything to do with Farnley's death?’
Charles stared at the Captain blankly. ‘His death? I don't know what you're talking about, Ricky. How did he die?’
‘Shot in the b-back,’ Lord Fitzroy informed him helpfully.
‘And you have the cursed impudence to ask if I had anything to do with it? I ought to call you out, damme, I ought!’
‘No harm meant, old b-boy. No harm at all. Ricky just thought he'd ask, that's all,’ Fitz assured his wrathful friend, kindly.
‘Oh, do be quiet, Fitz,’ begged Captain Osborne, exasperated. ''I'm sorry if you don't like it, Charles, but I had to ask. If it's any comfort to you, neither of us really thought you did it. I take it you haven't heard anything at all about the murder then?’
‘Not yet,’ replied Carlington grimly. ‘But I want to hear about it now. All about it!’
The story, related with brutal frankness by Osborne with occasional interpolations from Lord Fitzroy, left Charles pale and shaken. That the whole of London believed him to be a murderer, that his life was even now in danger, these were by far the greatest blows he had yet received. It was instinct alone that had led him to seek out his friend immediately upon his arrival in London; now he shuddered to think how easily he might have returned home to his own lodging which was, no doubt, being watched night and day. ‘Well, that's our tale, Charles,’ said the Captain, regarding his friend with concern. ‘Now, if you feel up to it, tell us what's happened to you. Why have you been gone so long? We thought you had escaped from town and were hiding from the Runners.’
Charles gave a wry laugh. ‘If I had been hiding it would not have been from the Runners; in fact I would have been very happy to see them. Someone in London wants me dead, and it isn't just Bow Street!’
The tale Charles had to tell could not but excite the imagination of two young men. When Lord Fitzroy heard how the slavers had been routed he could not contain his excitement and uttered a piercing hunting cry that brought forth grumbling protests from nearby sleepers. Even Osborne was impressed by such acumen shown by one without the benefit of military training. Charles laughed, admitting that it had been something of a lark. ‘The rest of the adventure was cursed unpleasant though. I landed in Ireland without a penny and there I was, Viscount Carlington for the Lord's sake, begging and stealing my way across the damned country. I hope I may never have to go through that again!’
‘How did you get the money for the crossing, Charles?’ asked Osborne. ‘I should have thought it cost a pretty fair sum these days.’
‘Oh, I didn't pay, Ricky. What are you thinking of? I worked my passage, and I've the hands to prove it!’ So saying, he held out his calloused hands to his horrified friends.
‘Oh, I say!’ exclaimed Fitzroy, averting his gaze. ‘Why, it's worse than that damned b-beard, and I thought nothing could be!’
Charles stroked his chin ruefully. ‘Yes, I had better get rid of this before I see Charlotte, or she may cry off from our engagement!’
The two friends exchanged looks. They had been very careful not to mention Miss Wrexham in their story, and neither quite knew how to break the news of her defection. Charles, however, had seen the exchange of glances and was immediately suspicious.
‘What is it? What's going on, you fellows?’ he demanded.
Osborne gave a little shrug. ‘I didn't want to have to tell you this Charles but Miss Wrexham doesn't seem to have taken your engagement as seriously as you did. The fact is she got engaged to Ruthin the day after you disappeared.’
‘I don't believe it! It’s a damned lie!’ shouted Charles.
‘I say Charles! No need to call Ricky a liar,’ expostulated Fitzroy. ‘It’s t-true enough.’
‘Well now we know who it was that wanted me out of the way, and why,’ said Charles bitterly.
‘Good God you are not suggesting that Ruthin—why that's preposterous!’ exclaimed Osborne. ‘The girl had simply set her sights on a fortune, that's all.’
‘I do not believe it, I tell you! Someone arranged all this to give me the appearance of guilt. Who else had sufficient reason to want me out of the way? What have I ever done to merit such treatment from any other man? I tell you, I have racked my brains and I can think of no one else. It must be Ruthin!’
Although unconvinced, neither Osborne nor Fitz had any theories to advance, and as the hour was now very late, Captain Osborne suggested that they had better all get some sleep and continue the discussion upon the morrow.
It is probable that none of the young gentlemen would have slept at all soundly had they been aware of the two burly figures who were, even now, outside the street door, blowing upon their numbed fingers to keep out the cold, but jubilant nevertheless.
‘That were 'im, Ned, not a doubt about it,’ remarked one of these individuals with great satisfaction. ‘I knowed all along as 'e'd turn up 'ere sooner nor later.’
‘Aye, you was in the right of it, 'Enery, an' I'll never deny it. That was a bit o' good deduction an' if there's any justice in the world they'll see that at Bow Street.’
Henry shook his head, obviously doubtful that any such justice was to be expected from his superiors at headquarters. However, he was in great hopes of delivering the wanted man very shortly. Strangely, his orders were merely to observe his quarry, not to arrest him until further word from Bow Street. As their quarry was accompanied by two other large and healthy young men, neither Ned nor Henry felt tempted to exceed their instructions.
As so often happens when our lives seem hopelessly grey and depressing, the weather the following morning was bright and spring like. Miss Milverly, who had retired the previous night in a somewhat despondent frame of mind, felt a corresponding rise of the spirits. It is, of course, disconcerting to any prospective heroine to discover that the young man whom she was determined to have, despite all parental opposition, is, in fact the very man her odious parent had selected for her. Nothing so dull as to marry with her father's consent was likely to appeal to Miss Milverly, but fortunately an alternative was at hand. The handsome Sir Robert had not only the advantage of years and address, he was also disliked by her father, and as Miss Milverly's most pressing desire was to punish the Marquis for all the lonely years of her childhood, he answered the purpose admirably.
The Marquis would have been as astonished as dismayed if he had known
how his pretty little daughter planned to make up for the years of neglect she had suffered. It had never occurred to Ruthin that to his Amelia he had appeared to be a god-like figure, descending occasionally upon his sister's quiet house, bringing gifts and treats; and then, just as suddenly, disappearing back to the Metropolis from whence tales of his doings would reach his adoring child. She could have told exactly how many mistresses he had in keeping, what price he paid for his hunters at Tattersall's, how much he dropped a night at Faro. As she grew older, she began to resent her father's way of life in which there was no place for a schoolgirl. His visits were less frequent and, when he came, it was no longer to take her up before him upon one of his magnificent horses; he was much more likely to take her to task for hoydenish behaviour. She grew shy and sulky, and the Marquis made bad worse by losing patience. The result was that until Amelia came to reside with her Papa in Grosvenor Square, they had barely seen each other for years, and Miss Milverly had spent those years in brooding upon her wrongs. It seemed that the Marquis did not wish his daughter to know Sir Robert. Well, the Marquis would discover once and for all just how little his daughter cared for his opinions, and if he were hurt, so much the better!
Therefore, Sir Robert Chatham, lounging gracefully in a secluded corner of Kensington Gardens, was gratified by the sight of Miss Milverly tripping along, a frightened-looking abigail at her heels. She was wearing a most fetching chip bonnet, and looked as pretty as a picture.
‘Oh!’ she exclaimed breathlessly as she came up to him. ‘I have had such a terrible time getting away. I was obliged to say that I was going to visit my old governess who lives in Kensington, and as you can see, I had to bring my maid with me but that's quite alright for she won't breathe a word. Will you, Hetty?’
Hetty shook her head and was understood to say that she would be pulled apart by wild horses rather than divulge a word of her mistress's escapade. She was then dismissed to the gate to await Miss Milverly who was persuaded to retire behind a convenient arbour, away from prying eyes.
She was a little nervous, but she need not have worried, Sir Robert was far too old a hand to frighten off his quarry so soon in the proceedings.
‘My dear, how can I thank you for agreeing to this meeting?’ he began, taking her hand in a fervent clasp. ‘I had hardly dared to hope that you would come!''
‘I said I would, sir,’ she answered demurely, allowing him to retain her hand.
‘Oh, you are adorable!’ he exclaimed. ‘Damn if I remember when I've met with such an enchanting little creature. I can’t keep calling you Miss Milverly, what’s your name?’
‘My name is Amelia, Sir, but I do not think that it would be proper for me to allow you to use it.’
‘And are you always thinking of what is proper, Amelia?’
She cast an expressive glance around the deserted arbour. ‘You must know that I am not. But if you are to call me by my name I think it only fair that I should use yours—Robert.’
‘My sweet, I make you free of it.’
‘Robert. It's a nice name, I think,’ she said musingly, peeping up at him from under her sooty lashes.
‘I never knew how well it sounded until I heard it upon those rosy lips,’ he told her caressingly. She laughed, but her glance was so flirtatious that he was encouraged to advance more quickly. It seemed unlikely that this charming little fool would be frightened away after all. Cautiously, he stole an arm about her waist and, as he was not repulsed by the lady, he made so bold as to lift her chin with his other hand. For a few moments he gazed into her eyes in a suitably romantic manner, and then he bent his lips to hers in a respectful kiss. To his complete amazement, so far from shrinking from him, Amelia flung her arms around his neck and returned his kiss with totally unexpected fervour. Chatham was delighted. It seemed that this heiress was about to fall into his hands like a ripe plum, and as she was by far the prettiest of all the rich young ladies he had pursued, he felt his luck had changed indeed.
Amelia stood within his encircling arms thinking how very different had been Sebastian's shy but loving kisses. She found this older man a little frightening, his lips too hot, his hands too possessive. However, she could not draw back now. No doubt she would get used to it in time. Sir Robert, confident that he had won his heiress, suggested a flight the following night and was gratified by Miss Milverly's prompt acquiescence. Exultant, he once more took her in his arms, kissing her with a greedy passion he now made no attempt to hold in check. He left her standing in the arbour, her hair in disarray, and her rosy lips swollen and in her eyes a look of triumph. But as she wiped his kisses off her lips with the back of her hand, she could not help wondering if Sebastian would be very much hurt when he learned of her flight.
If it had been an exciting morning for Miss Milverly, for Miss Wrexham it had been one of unrelieved tedium. She dared not leave the house for fear of missing Pentherbridge's message; and as her mama was engaged with a party of friends to walk in Kensington Gardens, and her aunt was embarked upon a lengthy shopping expedition, she was obliged to sit alone with her much neglected embroidery. Painful thoughts could not but intrude and many hot tears were spilt upon the delicate cambric. She was therefore much relieved when the door opened and her mama bustled into the apartment, stripping off her lavender kid gloves and calling for a cup of chocolate.
‘All alone, my dear? I wish you had come with us. It is a lovely morning, the gardens were quite delightful. I am sure that there were thousands of daffodils out. It was such a sight!'‘
‘I am sure it was but really, I do not feel up to much exercise at the moment,’ answered Charlotte with a sigh.
‘Really, Charlotte, I am getting quite tired of your sighs and your megrims. I sometimes wonder whatever became of my spirited daughter! Since we came to London it seems to me that you have done little else but weep over that worthless young man. If you really love him so much, then, for heaven's sake, break this silly engagement to Ruthin and do something to help the poor boy!’
‘Such as, Mama?’
‘Oh, I do not know! Perhaps you could appeal to Charles to come forward and face his trial, in the newspaper, I mean. It is the only thing he can do, after all. Have you thought that wherever he is, he may have heard of your engagement? Think how the poor young man must feel, deserted by everyone as he is! No wonder he will not give himself up!’
‘Mama, you do not know how much you are hurting me. Of course I have thought of all these things. But how can I ask Charles to give himself up to almost certain death?’
‘He may be dead already. Have you considered that, my dear?’ asked Mrs Wrexham, gently.
Charlotte nodded. ‘I have thought of it, but I cannot believe it. I do not feel that he is dead! My only hope is that he will let me know where he is and that we might perhaps be able to go away together, to Italy perhaps, or even America. It would be hard, I know, but what else can we do?’
Mrs Wrexham shook her head. ‘Nothing, I suppose. But, please, my love, try to be a little more cheerful. People are beginning to talk. For a newly betrothed young lady, you do present the most woebegone appearance!’
‘I will try,’ promised Miss Wrexham, lifting her chin a little at the notion that she was being talked of.
‘I am sure I do not understand you modern young women! Here you are, mooning over Carlington, who is at best a notoriously dissipated young man, although I will admit that he is most attractive; and now, whom do you imagine I saw today in the Gardens in intimate conversation with a well-known fortune hunter?’
‘My Aunt?’ hazarded Charlotte with a smile.
‘Charlotte, what a lovely thought! No, not your poor dear Aunt, but Amelia Milverly!’
‘But I thought Amelia was all but betrothed to young Edridge,’ remarked Charlotte, mildly surprised.
‘So she was. Until, I suppose, she became acquainted with this fellow. What do you think I should do, Charlotte? I feel a little responsible, you know, for Amelia was under my chaperonage
when she first met Sir Robert. I cannot let little Amelia ruin herself over this rake, and yet how I hate to be a tale bearer! There is no help for it, however, I must speak to her father.’
Charlotte concurred in this, and Mrs Wrexham determined to make a morning call upon the Marquis the next day. She went off to her room to change her gown, leaving a very thoughtful daughter in the morning room. It occurred to Miss Wrexham that her mama was remarkably undismayed by the idea that her only child might go off to live in another land with a suspected murderer. Indeed, her mother was in an unusually sunny mood most of the time lately. Charlotte was not so concerned with her own problems that she failed to realise that this good temper was the direct result of her disclosure that her engagement was merely a ruse.
The rest of the afternoon passed pleasantly enough. Her mama persuaded her to put down her embroidery and engage in a game of backgammon, a pastime for which Charlotte had always a great partiality. They were not engaged for the evening and so, after a quiet dinner, all the ladies retired, grateful for the opportunity of an early night for once.
Miss Wrexham tossed and turned for a long time before she finally fell asleep She was dreaming, as usual, about Charles. It seemed that Charles was calling to her. She could hear his beloved voice quite plainly. ‘Charlotte, Charlotte, wake up, for God's sake!’
A far from gentle hand on her shoulder did at last awaken her, and she opened startled eyes to see Carlington bending over her, a most un-amiable expression upon his face. None of the carefully rehearsed speech the Viscount had prepared was destined to be uttered. It was a good speech, containing just the right amount of contempt, cold anger and reproach. It was nicely calculated to show Miss Wrexham what a noble fellow she had thrown away and how despicable her behaviour had been. He was just about to begin, and had uttered a cold ‘Madam—,’ when he suddenly found that his arms were full of Charlotte's warm body and her arms were around his neck.
Gamble With Hearts Page 10
