Jane snapped open her fan. From behind it, she said, “You may stop scowling at me, my lord. George will not allow me to accept your money, should you have any. We are family after all.”
“I pay my debts, even to undeserving in-laws,” he said through fixed lips. “You took all but four tricks in the rubber. Did you cheat?”
“My lord!” She shook her head in disbelief. “All one has to do is recall the cards played and calculate odds just as you and George taught me eons ago. How was I to know you’d play so abominably?”
“You were nibbling your fingertip to distract me,” he said.
“I distracted you? That was wrong of me. How can I make it up to you? One more game, all or nothing?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. “It needn’t be whist.”
“Given my luck tonight, I think not.”
“A simple game of chance then. If I draw the high card, you’ll owe me nothing but a favor. And if you win, you’ll owe me nothing whatsoever.” She gave the deck a desultory shuffle and fanned the cards on the table between them. “You cannot lose.”
“Ladies first.”
With a silent prayer, she slipped a card from the array and turned it over.
“The queen of diamonds, I should’ve known,” he huffed and selected his card. One glance at it and he tossed it on the table in disgust.
“The knave of clubs, how fitting,” she said and tore the paper tally. “You owe me a favor, nothing more. I hope you’ll manage it without your habitual fault-finding.”
“What sort of favor is it?” he asked.
“It will put you out a bit, I daresay,” she replied.
“Estimating the likely inconvenience,” he said, “and doubling it to account for your antipathy to me, I’d be happier to carve off a pound of flesh.”
“Sums aside, you gave your word. Besides, what I need done might benefit you as well.”
“Nothing related to you has benefited me since you were old enough to land George and me in hot water with the late duke.” He colored and corrected himself. “I take that back. You never mentioned to Gert that bit of bother near Richmond. That was good of you.”
“Old news, Lord Seelye, and long forgot.” Jane dismissed his gratitude with a shrug. “One favor, that’s all. It’ll be an adventure, you should like that.” She watched him over the edge of her fan, a spider awaiting a fly. “Besides, you’ve been rather listless lately.”
“Don’t mistake caution during armed robbery for listlessness, Pest.”
“If you’re going to be snappish about it, I could insist you court me for show. Dance attendance, play the lovesick swain, et cetera.”
“You wouldn’t dare and I wouldn’t do it,” he said. “George would gut me for presumption and leave my chitterlings strewn up and down Mayfair. I prefer to keep them tucked right where they’ve always been.”
“George wouldn’t object, I would.”
“In any case, there are better ways to make yourself alluring than rousing male jealousy by fraud.”
“Enough. Courting me was not at all what I had in mind,” she said and snapped her fan closed. “If you’re a man of your word, you will do me a favor, no questions asked, no refusal permitted, no matter what.”
“Fine. And I’ll throw in being nicer to you if you’ll forgive my setdown and take a little advice now and then,” he countered.
“To which setdown do you refer?”
“Come now, there weren’t so many.”
She waited, eyebrows elevated.
“The first, in the Upper Rooms. It was ungentlemanly of me,” he said with seeming sincerity.
She studied his face. “I don’t know if I should.”
“Forgive me? Or take my advice?”
“Either,” she said. “I could gag on the number of times I’ve heard someone say, ‘Lord Seelye carved the Ice Maiden to shavings,’ blah, blah, blah. You’ve been stropping your wit on me and dining out on the stories for months.”
He leaned close to say softly, “If not for your fits of spleen, Jane, no one would want to see you belittled or wish to hear the moment recounted over a meal.”
That brought her up short. Of course he was right. At least that part of her original plan had succeeded beyond all expectations.
“Point taken,” she said stiffly. “But if we declare a truce, won’t you starve?”
“Not as long as you remain at large.”
“Fine. Done. If you’ll excuse me.” With that, she left him to retire in triumph. And consternation.
Chapter 16
In which our hero questions his hearing. And sanity.
Three days later
“You have a what where?” Lord Seelye sputtered at her.
Finally she had his attention. Even so, the way he looked at her was most uncomfortable. For heaven’s sake, it wasn’t as though she liberated Napoleon from St. Helena. She assumed her news would surprise him, yes. Leave him staring like a slack-jawed simpleton? No.
Was her faith in him misplaced?
His lordship had been cordial when they met earlier that evening. Between sets, they strolled peaceably around a crowded Mayfair ballroom. She marveled how the bachelors she’d rejected over the years bowed to her politely now and acknowledged him as if doing his bidding.
“Your popularity must’ve rubbed off a little, Lord Seelye. I’m tempted to be personable in return,” she said. “Aren’t you pleased?”
“I would be pleased but I suspect you’re raising my hopes merely to dash them,” he joked. “What are you up to, Jane?”
“Well, now that you ask—” she recounted her recent doings quietly in the midst of everyone, where he couldn’t make a vulgar scene. After gawking at her, he towed her by the arm to an inconspicuous corner. She scuttled to keep up with his long-legged strides.
He looked wild-eyed when he turned to face her.
“Have you any sal volatile in that expensive little reticule of yours?” he demanded.
“I don’t need smelling salts.”
“Not for you, Jane, for me. What in God’s name have you done?”
This was a needless question as she’d just told him moments before.
“Why must you indulge in amateur theatrics?” she said and scanned the crowd with a show of boredom.
The musicians began a lively country set.
“Theatrics?” he choked, careful to keep his back to the dancers. “This mouth hanging open, these eyes bulging from their sockets are not for show,” he said, making the face he described to her at her. “Have you lost your senses?” His whisper ascended the musical scale. “Have you gone stark staring mad?”
“I didn’t know you could reach so high a register, how droll,” she said. “I have an excellent plan, if you would listen.”
“Droll.” He strangled on the word.
“Higher still. As I said, I was in Southwark last week—” she repeated, ignoring his dark mutterings about her lunacy. “—where it was all I could do not to whip the two men I found there for what they were doing.”
His lips moved but the sound was too high pitched for human ears. He fisted and opened his gloved hands before calming enough to speak audibly, “I will regret this, but did I hear you properly just now?” He spoke low and emphatically, “You’ve laid hands on a what?”
“Not a what, a whom. He was called Boodles but I’ve renamed him Bibendum, as in ‘Nunc es bibendum.’”
“You know Latin?”
“No, George bellows that when squiffy. You see, the bear walks with a charming waddle—”
“Now is indeed the time to drink,” his lordship said. “I’m not perfectly sure but I believe it would be Bibende, Jane. Your rescue won’t appreciate your verbal neutering any more than the other males of your acquaintance.”
“But I like the sound of Bibendum best.”
“Naturally. Why should he fare any better than the rest?” he said. “And this Bibendum is a—?” he asked again, as if he hadn’t attended her the first two t
imes she told him in plain English, which made her cross.
“As I said, Lord Seelye, I’ve rescued a tame bear rather than let him die in a bear-baiting to amuse the Hellfire Club’s cretinous membership.”
“She rescued a bear,” he repeated, eyes lifted heavenward to inform Him, as if He would share his own low opinion of her doings. When through, he asked, “Does George know?”
“No, I keep him locked in the potting shed.”
“George?” Lord Seelye asked unhelpfully.
“The bear, my lord. But it won’t be for long.”
“She’s a lunatic,” he told Him, gaze upraised once more.
“Stop that. I will admit I had some concern, but Bibendum is a trained performing bear and very well behaved. He walks where one wants with encouragement, stands up, sits, wags his head and can do a little wave that’s adorable. Oh, and he pats his paws together when he’s pleased.”
He was staring at her again, arms limp at his side, making that ludicrous, eyes-on-stalks face.
When he found his voice, he said, “I imagine your bear’s patting his paws over the grand buffet that is George’s household staff—not to mention my toothsome niece who toddles around the garden presenting herself like an hors-d’oeuvre.”
“Nothing will happen to little Caro or Nanny.”
“Must I point out that you won’t have much say in the matter?”
“You’re not being helpful, my lord.”
“Nor do I intend to be. Holy mother of Christ, this beats all. You cannot keep such a thing from George.”
“He has a great deal on his mind. He won’t notice.”
“Won’t gnawed, bloody human remains in the garden draw his attention?”
“There is no such danger,” she dismissed his exaggeration angrily. “The potting shed is secure and I see that Bibendum’s well fed. He’s muzzled whenever I let him out.”
“Tell me you’ve had the decency to warn the gardener.”
“There’s no need. Ever since I rescued Ethelred the ram, Myrick knows to stay away when the shed smells gamey,” she explained airily and added, “To think, if I hadn’t seen him trotting down Queen’s Walk, he’d have been trampled in Piccadilly traffic for certain, poor thing.”
“Never mind the sheep,” he said. “Let’s focus on the beast currently fouling your brother’s potting shed.”
“Oh, but he’s tidy,” she told him. “He prefers the lawn, like a dog.”
“Why, Jane?” he asked. “Why did you do this?”
“Animal cruelty must be outlawed. Until it is, I will do what I must.”
“But bearbaiting?” He massaged his temples. “No one’s done that in decades, centuries for all I know.”
“Richard Martin heard rumors that Earl Rostand arranged a temporary bear garden at a dog pit. When I confronted the earl, he bragged about it. So, I went to the place and when the bear’s owner came to deliver it, I outbid the earl’s man, vile Mr. Whitcombe, and purchased the bear myself.” She tilted her chin up defiantly. “So you see, I am not one of those apathetic ladies who complains and does nothing.”
Before her eyes, Lord Seelye Dumbfounded by Disbelief metamorphosed into Lord Seelye Gobsmacked by Guilt.
“There are more palatable ways to make me eat my words, Jane,” he said and ran both hands through his hair. He hemmed, hawed and stared down at his well-shod feet. When at last he looked up, his expression was solemn.
“God help me, this was my doing. I goaded you to it. If I hadn’t disparaged your ladies’ meetings, you wouldn’t have done this to prove me wrong. I should’ve known better. This is my fault.”
“No, this was entirely my choice and my doing. Mine,” she said.
He ignored her.
“Bad enough, you’ve annoyed nearly every unmarried man in the ton,” he said, sounding genuinely distressed. “But Rostand and those Hellfire devils are not ones to frustrate in their pursuit of amusement.”
“Pooh! I’m not sorry I’ve foiled them and the earl in particular. I asked him nicely to cancel it. He refused.” She spoke in a gathering rush, “It was dreadful listening to the bear’s owner, an odious man named Livens, haggle with vile Mr. Whitcombe over a few shillings. When I’d heard enough, I stepped from the shadows and offered odious Livens double what vile Whitcombe was prepared to pay.”
“You went to Bankside on your own?”
“Of course not, I brought Malcolm the footman. John Coachman the younger drove us there. I also thought it wise to bring Lady Abingdon’s pistol just in case. But I was perfectly safe. Malcolm sent vile Whitcombe on his way. And I paid odious Livens a little more to bring the bear to George’s potting shed. It astonished me how easy it was to accomplish.”
“Now that you have it, what will you do with it?”
“Not it, Bibendum,” Jane said. “He wears a red leather collar and a matching muzzle, and he’s quite amenable. I don’t doubt odious Livens could’ve led him to slaughter by his leash. Worse, the bear would’ve sat at the stake for a horehound drop and played with an India rubber ball till they set the dogs on him. It’s too awful to contemplate.”
“You cannot keep him.”
“I don’t intend to, he needs a better place.”
“Better than Grosvenor Square?” Seelye asked. “Where else can he meet all the right people and snack on milk-fed brats? Have you had his calling cards engraved?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Forgive me. I didn’t realize I was the ridiculous one.”
He scraped a hand over his handsome features, pulling his eyes out of shape, flattening his classically sculpted nose and finally, most emphatically, dragging his mouth into a frown.
“Don’t carry on this way,” Jane said, just when the music ended.
His lordship glanced over his shoulder to make sure no one overheard her.
Jane stepped closer, unfurled her fan, and whispered behind it, “Bibendum is a good bear, a performing bear. Odious Livens told me his uncle raised him from a cub with a bitch to help tame him. That’s how it’s done properly, the dog teaches the cub manners as it would its own whelps. When the uncle passed away, odious Livens inherited the bear but only wanted to rid himself of the bother and make a few quid.”
“Did you think to ask odious Livens how his uncle died?” Lord Seelye asked.
“Natural causes, as I recall,” she lied and carried on quickly. “The nephew proved to me how sweet and obedient the bear is and gave me a supply of his favorite horehound drops. Bibendum is dear, you’ll see.”
“I shall only see your bear,” he said, “to aim at it.”
When the music began once again, it was a waltz. He swept her onto the dance floor to continue their discussion.
“You will not harm him,” Jane said. “In fact, you will help me save him.”
“No, I’m going to shoot him and save you. Then I’ll help George bundle you off to an asylum in the country where you’ll be kept safe from future self-harm.”
“But I have experience training animals, dogs mostly. I’ve read everything I can about bears in natural histories from George’s library and at Hookham’s,” she said. “Say something helpful, won’t you?”
He studied her. “Very well. How large a bear is Bibendum?”
Oh dear.
“He’s taller than I when standing on his hind legs and shorter when walking or seated,” she answered carefully.
“Ah. Would he be taller than I on his hind legs?”
“How tall are you?”
“Six feet even,” he said.
Jane squinted up at him and decided to answer truthfully. “Perhaps a bit.”
His frown deepened. “You are most terrifying when vague.”
“Fine, he’s much taller,” she admitted impatiently. “But he’s gentle and, for all I know, he’s small for his kind.”
“You understand he may be small,” he said slowly, “because he’s still growing.”
“Or shrinking with age,”
she countered weakly.
They danced in silence, Lord Seelye looked grim. Jane felt uncharacteristically anxious. He wasn’t taking her disclosure well.
The last strains of the waltz faded and the dancers milled on the floor. With the set over, he offered his arm, his expression purposely blank.
“We must walk or call attention to ourselves,” he said and steered her through the throng into an unused side hall. He checked both ends of the corridor before asking, “What do you propose to do with this creature?”
“I’ve found him sanctuary.”
“How will he get there, walk?”
“Actually, his waddle is quite like a tipsy sailor. It’s charming,” Jane said, not meeting his eyes. “Bibendum walked willingly into the garden—the ale Myrick sets out as slug traps may’ve enticed him. He emptied all the bowls in a circuit before retiring to the shed.” She looked up, hoping for the best. “So you see, the slug infestation is sorted with no mess to clean up. Won’t Myrick will be pleased?”
“Yes, I imagine Myrick will be tickled to discover he has a bear infestation instead,” he said. “But don’t change the subject.”
“This is important to me. I want to save him more than anything,” she said, “but I cannot do it on my own. Or ask George, who’ll fly into the boughs. Or hand my bear over to hired strangers who might take my money and kill Bibendum to save themselves the trouble. You are the only one I trust.”
When he looked at her now, she welcomed his steady, sober gaze.
“You want me to take this performing bear of yours someplace safe.”
Jane nodded.
“A menagerie, perhaps?”
“That was my original plan, but I have a better one now. Will you help me, Seelye?” she asked, careful not to beg.
He looked at her much struck by something and said, “You called me Seelye.”
“Did I?” She hadn’t merely used his given name, she’d said it feeling the same, implicit faith in him that she’d felt as a child. When she was little, she knew that he would come to her rescue. He never disappointed her. Now, she could only pray his most endearing trait survived the war.
His Lordship's Last Wager Page 13
