So, if he extrapolated from there – what if the blackmailer had also blackmailed Blackwater’s mother? If so, that would provide at least one reason for the blackmail of the daughters – for with the mother’s death, those other payments had ceased.
But it did not provide any clue about why the blackmail of their mother had occurred – that, however, he suspected came from the fact that it seemed that Lady Prunella Danby was the younger sister of Lady Augusta Danby – the mother of Mr Thomas Black.
He sipped his cognac, planning – he needed to do two things – find a portrait of Lady Prunella Danby, and visit a certain pawnbroker’s shop.
Chapter Fifteen
Camellia was watching the door. Of course, because she awaited the arrival of Lady Georgette and Lady Marie, not because she cared one whit for the fact that they would arrive with their brother.
So far, she had seen various people she knew, including, somewhat surprisingly, Baron Setford, but not those she wanted to see. She chided herself for her impatience, but she could not help it. She had not seen Blackwater for days… and she wanted to see him. there was no denying the fact. He, of course, always treated her with the greatest civility and kindness – but that was simply gratitude for her helping his sisters, not at all because he cared for her in any way.
Around her, in the large space made by Lady Wells having opened all of the partitions between her three parlours, clusters of people sipped at drinks and nibbled at fashionable snippets of food, all the while talking – exchanging gossip, no doubt. Gossip which included terrible whispers about Blackwater and his sisters.
“Really, Camellia, could you at least grant me the courtesy of noticing that I am speaking?” Camellia snapped her attention back to her sister. Primrose sighed, then began to speak again, obviously repeating what she had said before. “Have you looked at the paintings on the wall over there? They are magnificent – not only brilliantly executed, but the subjects! They feature a series of exotic flowers – from Australia, and the East Indies, I think. I must, simply must, find out who the artist is, and if they actually travelled, and saw the plants in their natural habitat! If they did, I envy them that opportunity.”
“Then you must ask Lady Wells, obviously. Who knows – if the artist did actually travel there, he may even have done so on one of Bella’s brother’s ships. But I declare, you must, by now, be able to list out a veritable catalogue of every painting in the public areas of almost all of the houses of the ton. I am shocked to find that you have not seen these before.”
“I have only ever been here twice before! And that was in the main parlour only – these were not opened up on those occasions. Oh, and in the hallway, and the dining room, for one of those occasions was a dinner – surely you remember?”
People shifted around them, and Camellia realised that, just behind her, Lord Setford stood in conversation with Lady Farnsworth – it really was most unusual for him to be at an event like this – he so rarely attended anything. She glanced to the door again, but still did not see the faces she wished to, then turned her attention back to Primrose.
“I do – and a very plain dinner, with very dull conversation it seemed to me at the time.”
Primrose laughed.
“I agree – but at least I could look at the paintings.”
“Yes – and were any of them interesting?”
“They were – but then I find almost any painting interesting. I particularly liked one that hangs in the hall, not far from the dining room door. It is a family portrait – painted before Lady Wells married, with her parents, two sisters, and three brothers. I had not known, until I saw the plaque upon it, that her father was the Earl of Polfredge. It is a lovely portrait – so well rendered, and it captures the personalities of the people – they look relaxed, and quite happy with each other, rather than stiff, as people look in so many family portraits.”
“That is interesting – I don’t think that I have ever heard any mention of her family – and one would expect to see them at such an event as this, normally.”
“I know. Perhaps they had a falling out? We will likely never know. Oh, look – there are Blackwater and his sisters. Off you go to do your duty!”
As Camellia turned, she saw Lord Setford exiting the room, towards the hall, and wondered if, perhaps, he’d had his fill of socialising, and was departing. Then again, perhaps he had his own reasons – one never knew with the spymaster. She set off across the room to meet Blackwater and his sisters – who all looked stunning – the girls in two of the gowns which Madame Beaumarais had made, and Blackwater in his usual stark elegance – black, with a white shirt and cravat, only relieved by a waistcoat in multiple shades of green, which matched his startling eyes. Her heart beat faster at the sight of him, and she smiled, suddenly happy, simply because he was there.
He looked up at that moment, and met her eyes.
Around them, a susurrus of whispers ran through the room, as all eyes turned to the newcomers. Camellia failed to hear it – for her, somehow, all sound and sight other than Blackwater had faded away. His eyes drew her in, and she felt oddly warm all over. He reached her, and she realised that she had inadvertently stopped in the middle of the room, and blushed in embarrassment. He took her hand, his eyes slightly amused, and bowed.
“Good evening Lady Camellia. I trust that you are well?”
“Good evening, Your Grace. I am, indeed, well.” She turned a little, and smiled at Lady Georgette and Lady Marie, realising belatedly that he had only released her hand when she moved, and feeling flushed all over again. “Madame Beaumarais has such an eye for colour! Those gowns are absolutely perfect for each of you.”
“They are – every new gown I wear, I am more delighted with than the last. But you also look magnificent Lady Camellia – that rich caramel cream colour is just stunning with your hair and eyes.” Lady Georgette leaned close to Camellia, and whispered into her ear, her voice barely audible, “They gossip about us – again, worse – what are we to do?”
Camellia took Lady Georgette’s arm, and smiled.
“Let us all move out of this central spot, lest we be trampled by the multitudes – my family, and Bella and her family, are all over near those extravagant floral arrangements – which is predictable, of course, for both my father and Primrose are obsessed with flowers.”
She led them away, acutely conscious of Blackwater so close by her side.
<<<
Setford could hardly believe what he had overheard. His hearing was acute, a fact which was a significant advantage when it came to the activities of a spymaster, and tonight, it had again delivered him an unexpected gift. He turned to Anna, Lady Farnsworth, and smiled broadly.
“My dear Lady Farnsworth, you must excuse me for a moment – I find that I need to deal with a small matter – outside this room.”
She assessed him with clever eyes, and he knew that she would understand, even though she was curious.
“Of course, my Lord. I will seek further refreshments, I believe, and greet a few old friends.”
He bowed, and turned away, slipping out into the hall, in search of one specific painting – one which he was glad to discover was flanked by two sconces holding oil lamps, and hence well lit. He studied it for quite some time, comparing the young woman in the painting with how Anne, Lady Wells, looked now, near twenty-five years later, then mentally applying that sort of aging to the face of the youngest girl in the portrait. Of course, he could not be sure of exactly how she would appear, but now, at least, he had a mental image of what Lady Prunella Danby might look like.
No matter what else happened, the evening could be accorded a significant success. He turned back, and went to seek out Lady Farnsworth again.
<<<
Lady Prunella Danby was impatient, or, perhaps, desperate was a better word for it. There had been no message. She could no longer sit and simply wait. Perhaps the gossip was doing its job – but obviously not well enough. Or perh
aps a message had been sent, and had not reached her.
She would, she decided, have to visit the place herself, to take that risk, again, to discover what had happened, if anything. Tomorrow – she would go tomorrow.
And if there was no message, no package, then perhaps, next week, she would be starving. It was not a pleasant thought.
<<<
Damien wrapped and sealed the small flat package, then tied a ribbon of burgundy around it, as the blackmail note had instructed. But, whilst he had followed that part of the instructions to the letter, the package contained only 50 pounds – the rest of the contents was simply cut sheets of paper, of the right size, stacked with the one real note on top.
He had decided to create the appearance of paying, to go to the pawnbroker’s shop, and see for himself what he might learn there – by threatening the ‘Mr Tanner’ who was supposed to receive the package, if necessary. He could not allow this blackmail to continue, or to succeed in any way.
It soured everything – at the soiree the previous night, the whispers had continued, and whilst the friendliness of the Duke of Elbury and the Duke of Hartswood had gone a long way to offsetting the impact on his family’s ‘acceptability’ to the ton, he had noted that gentlemen seemed most cautious about being introduced to his sisters. It was not something he could allow to continue.
Even the lovely Lady Camellia’s kindness could not, entirely, make up for the fact that he was failing to protect his sisters. The lovely Lady Camellia, who he still had no information about, to explain why she had been in that cab outside Bentick and Black, and who he was, despite all of his intentions to the opposite, coming to care for, far too much.
He would go to the pawnbroker’s tomorrow, and have it out with the man.
<<<
Thomas stared at the letter in his hand, and laughed. The laughter had, alarmingly, a touch of the hysterical about it – but he could hardly be blamed.
The letter was from Mr Swithin, informing him that his investor was interested in putting more money into his business. Two days ago, that would have been the best possible news, but today, having just returned from a meeting with Mr Bellditch, and the proprietor of the Charter Bank, with two hundred pounds in his pocket, and access to twenty thousand at call, it was no longer remotely necessary.
He would pen a polite note for Mr Swithin to send to his investor, thanking them for their faith in him, along with a draft on his bank for twice the investment which had originally been provided, clearing all debt to them completely. Then, tomorrow, he would pay his suppliers, and take some of that two hundred pounds to recover the one item he had used as security for a small loan, but three weeks ago, to keep things running in the face of the lack of contact from Blackwater. How much had changed in that three weeks!
The swordcane which he had pawned was one of his finer pieces, and he had required that the pawnbroker hold it for at least a month, before selling it on, to give him the chance to redeem it. He would, once that was back in his hands, begin to feel as if his life had truly been put to rights.
The only niggling concern was the strange tale that Blackwater had told him, of payments from Blackwater’s mother, to a person with the same family name as his mother. It worried him, if for no other reason than that he did not know what it could mean.
<<<
Setford sat at his desk, after returning home from the soiree, and, with pencil on a clean sheet of high-quality paper, attempted to sketch the possible Lady Prunella, as she might be now, based on what he had seen in the portrait, whilst it was still clear in his mind. Finally, he sat back, pleased with the sketch. Tomorrow, or the day after, he would visit the pawnbroker’s shop.
And with the sketch, if, perchance, a woman who might be Lady Prunella Danby came along whilst he watched the place, then he would recognise her. Exactly what he would do then would depend on her actions at the time.
<<<
Camellia sat in the hackney cab, with her cloak pulled tightly around her. This was a habit she did not wish to perpetuate, this going out unattended, and spying on shopfronts from cabs. In this case, she was also probably going to enter the shop, once she got her courage up. But first, she wanted to watch for a while.
She knew that Trent’s men were watching the place, and that, most likely, she could learn nothing that they had not already discovered, but still… she needed to do something.
The gossip at Lady Wells’ soiree had been terrible, and quite nasty – she could not bear to allow such things to continue, if there was any way at all that she could make it stop. And this pawnbroker’s shop was the only clue she had. She had spent the day and more since the soiree worrying, until she could bear it no longer – and now here she was.
People went in and out of the shop as she watched, and she suspected that the man lounging against the wall of the lane, a short way down the street, was one of Trent’s, as he barely moved, and she was quite sure that he wasn’t actually drinking from the gin bottle he held to his mouth every so often.
A few men went in with items and came out without them, then a woman went in. Camellia watched curiously – very few women – at least women obviously of the quality, if a little on the threadbare side – went into pawnbroker’s in this part of town, at least.
As she considered that, a cab drew up, and a man descended. It was Blackwater… but no, it wasn’t. the man looked almost exactly like Blackwater, but his face was not scarred, and he moved differently as he went through the door. Camellia flushed when she realised that she had paid attention to just exactly how Blackwater moved – that was such an… intimate… thing to have noticed.
As she puzzled at that, another cab drew up, and set down a man – and this time, it was Blackwater, and he carried a small parcel, of sealed oilcloth, bound with a burgundy ribbon. She started – that was so similar to what the blackmailer had specified for the girls, except that their letter had said a dark blue ribbon. She waited until he had entered the shop, then stepped down from her cab, tossing the driver extra coins, and asking him to wait, then hurried to the shop, hoping to slip in unnoticed. She had to know what was happening – was Blackwater being blackmailed too?
<<<
In a dark corner of the pawnbroker’s shop, where he pretended to study a collection of hats, Setford almost laughed – it seemed that all of the players had gathered for the drama which would almost certainly now occur.
Chapter Sixteen
Lady Prunella had entered the pawnbroker’s nervously and, upon seeing a number of men at the counter, discussing items with Mr Tanner, had taken herself off to the darkest corner she could see – which was unoccupied, for the truly darkest spot was currently inhabited by a gentleman trying on hats.
She found a spot between two high shelves, on which were stacked a selection of books, small ornaments, and ladies’ bonnets. Relieved that her looking at such things would be convincing as a reason for her to be there, she settled in to wait until the shop emptied and she could speak to Mr Tanner privately. But she watched every person who entered, in the vain hope that they might be carrying a package of exactly the right description.
Some time passed, and just when she thought that she might have a chance, as the last of the men who had been at the counter left, the door opened again. She sank back into the shadows, and watched – and barely choked off a cry of surprise. For the man who had entered looked exactly like Blackwater.
Which meant that he could be only one person. Augusta’s boy. Her own nephew. Sudden tears filled her eyes, and she turned away, grief for all that had been lost these last twenty-three years filling her. She pulled out her handkerchief, and rubbed at her eyes fiercely, then heard the door again.
This time it was Blackwater. And he carried a package. A hot rush of relief filled her. She would not starve – at least not for a month or two. And if he had paid once, he would no doubt pay again, when necessary. She lifted a wide brimmed bonnet from the shelves, and dropp
ed it onto her head, over the top of her far smaller one, so that it hid her face, and froze into utter stillness, watching.
<<<
“I’ve come to redeem my cane – here is my ticket.”
Thomas passed the ticket over to the man behind the counter, who looked acutely disappointed to see it. It seemed that he’d hoped to be able to keep the cane, and sell it on for a good price. Perhaps, given his new-found wealth, Thomas would even be generous enough to pay him more than the agreed amount for retrieving it.
“I’ll just be getting it for you.”
As the man went through the curtain to the back of the shop, Thomas heard the door open behind him. He turned, and was shocked to see Blackwater, who looked equally startled to see him. His brother came to him, quickly, shaking his head slightly, and stood very close.
“Say nothing, act as if you don’t know me.”
It was barely a whisper, and then Blackwater moved back, and turned to look at a shelf of silver hip flasks. Deeply puzzled, Thomas waited, saying nothing, as requested. The shopkeeper returned, and laid his cane on the counter. Thomas inspected it carefully, and nodded, satisfied that it was still in perfect condition. He drew out the required funds, and a little more, and set them down on the counter beside the cane. The shopkeeper lifted the notes, and counted them, smiling broadly when he realised that the amount was larger than expected.
“Can I interest you in anything else, sir?”
“Not today, thank you.”
As they were speaking, he thought that he heard the sound of the door again, but when he turned away, he saw no new person in the shop. Perhaps he was hearing things? He moved towards the door, then, insatiable curiosity getting the better of him - for he wanted to know why Blackwater was there, being secretive - he stepped into a shadowy space between two shelves just inside the door. And came face to face with a cloaked woman. A beautiful cloaked woman, wisps of whose golden hair were escaping the edges of her hood. She held her fingers to her lips, enjoining him to silence, even as she blushed becomingly.
A Diamond for a Duke : Book 4: Camellia: Clean Regency Romance (A Duke's Daughters - The Elbury Bouquet) Page 12
