With Good Grace

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘I must leave you,’ he said, taking her hand kissing the back of it.

  ‘I would like to come with you in the morning when you make your enquiries,’ Olivia said. ‘I might notice something that you do not.’

  ‘Parker will bring you to Grosvenor Square as soon as you are ready to leave. I shall not venture anywhere until you and Tom are safely installed; then we shall decide.’

  ‘There is nothing to decide.’ The light of battle glinted in her turquoise eyes. ‘You will not keep me out of this on some misguided pretext of chivalry.’ Jake elevated a brow, unaccustomed to having his chivalry brought into question. ‘I know Hubert and his friends a great deal better than you do. You need my help and we both know it.’

  Jake sighed. ‘I hope you are not going to be difficult.’

  ‘Me?’ Olivia glanced at Parker and shared a smile with him. ‘When did I ever give the slightest trouble?’

  Jake shook his head, unsure if he would come out victorious if he chose to continue with this battle of wills. ‘We shall be at leisure to discuss your disobedience in Grosvenor Square tomorrow,’ he said, lowering his voice so that Parker, who had diplomatically stepped away from them, could not overhear.

  ‘I look forward to it.’

  ‘Shall you bring Molly with you?’

  Olivia appeared surprised by the question. ‘I fully intended to. Why do you ask?’

  Jake sent her an amused glance but said nothing.

  ‘I refuse to be inconvenienced because my maid has set herself up as guardian of my moral conduct. Besides, Lord Torbay, you are confusing me. One moment you declare that we cannot risk…well, you know—’

  ‘You are charming when you blush.’ He chuckled. ‘And you are quite right. We really cannot afford to…well, you know.’

  ‘Then Molly will not be in danger of corruption beneath your roof.’

  ‘It was never Molly who was in danger.’

  Olivia puffed out her cheeks; whether in annoyance at her maid’s interference or at Jake’s mention of a subject he had already resolved would not interfere with their investigation, he was unable to decide. ‘I have already told the wretched girl that if she is dissatisfied with her situation, she is at liberty to seek something that suits her better.’ Olivia sent him a challenging smile, compelling Jake to suppress a frustrated groan. ‘Besides, I dare say we shall be too busy pursuing murderers to behave indiscreetly.’

  Jake tried to appear affronted. ‘I have never been described as an indiscretion before.’

  Her eyes glistened with suppressed mirth. ‘Not within your hearing, at any rate.’

  Jake sent her a look of mild rebuke, kissed her hand again and walked through the door that Parker opened for him. ‘Lock and blot it behind me,’ he said.

  ‘I know how to secure a house,’ Parker replied.

  The smile left his lips as soon as Jake entered his carriage and told his coachman to take him to White’s. There was someone he urgently needed to see and he was assured of finding him in that establishment at this hour. As the carriage made its way to St. James’s Street, Jake fell into contemplation; not about Grantley’s disappearance but about the toy ship that had been delivered to Cheyne Walk for Tom. He had not wanted to alarm Olivia, so he’d kept his concerns to himself, but the fact of the matter was that he was very worried about its sudden appearance. Very worried indeed. Someone had obviously seen Olivia at the docks with Tom and then gone to the trouble of sending the child a toy anonymously.

  Why?

  Jake could understand another man wanting to attract Olivia’s attention—what red-blooded male would not? Despite her determination to distance herself from society, she still received a considerable amount of attention from gentlemen keen to further their acquaintanceship with her. She never told Jake about their persistence but Jake made it his business to know everything about the lady who owned his heart and for whom he would give his own life in order to protect her without a moment’s regret. The fact that she was firmly of the opinion that she required no protection only increased his determination to keep her safe.

  Sending Tom a toy anonymously was not a likely means of securing Olivia’s gratitude and, Jake decided, it had probably not been sent for that purpose. It was however a perfect way to discompose a lady who lived alone; a lady whose husband had been killed because of something he possessed. It appeared that after an absence of two years, whoever wanted to retrieve that something was again active.

  Jake imagined the mysterious something was of considerable value—money, power, love and revenge were the most common causes of grand larceny in Jake’s extensive experience. But suppose none of them applied in this particular case? Jake rubbed his chin with his gloved hand, giving consideration to Parker’s earlier comment as his carriage trundled through streets made slick by an earlier shower. Could it be that the elusive something held the power to destroy an influential person’s reputation? Even if that was the case, would that person be prepared to resort to murder in order to save said reputation? A member of the aristocracy very likely might. So too would a famous actor. Even so, it seemed extreme. And why stop looking for two years?

  Jake shook a head that was filled with more questions than answers. None of this made sense. He had told Parker to ensure that all Grantley’s boxes of papers were removed to Grosvenor Square, along with Olivia and her son. He was convinced that a clue to the whereabouts of the mysterious something must be buried somewhere within those dusty records. Indiscreet letters written in the heat of a grand passion? Evidence of blackmail? Wrongdoings of some sort in one of the leading theatres that might terminally damage the reputation of the establishment if they became public knowledge? The possibilities were endless. No one would get into Cheyne Walk tonight to examine those boxes; not with Parker and Finch patrolling the corridors. The question was, would what they were looking for be obvious to Olivia and Jake when they went through the boxes themselves? So far their search had produced nothing even slightly suspicious.

  Perhaps it would not be a bad idea to let the world see Olivia leaving there tomorrow with enough bags to imply that she would be away for more than a day or two, thereby inviting…well, uninvited guests. He felt assured that her departure would not go unobserved. Indeed, he would make it his business to ensure that it did not and it would be interesting to see what transpired.

  Jake was jolted out of his reveries when his carriage hit a rut in the road. He heard his coachman cursing as he struggled to control his team on the slick road. Then the conveyance settled on its springs and continued more smoothly on its way. Jake’s thoughts returned to Olivia’s situation. To be aware that she had been to the docks and that Tom had been so enthusiastic about the ships implied that she had been intentionally followed. Someone wanted her to know it; perhaps so that she would be frightened into quitting her house, making it easy for the miscreants to gain entry and search it.

  Jake flashed a humourless smile. Far be it from him to disrupt their well-laid plans.

  Tomorrow evening, with Olivia safely out of the way, Jake was willing to wager that someone would break into Cheyne Walk. Perhaps Grantley’s boxes should be left there after all; then Jake, who naturally planned to have people there ready to catch the intruders, would know what the devil was vital enough to kill for.

  The only difficulty with that plan was that the anonymous toy-sender might be nothing to do with the ubiquitous something. Instead it could be one of Jake’s enemies attempting to gain revenge on him by scaring Olivia; or worse. Hence his journey to White’s.

  The carriage halted at the doors of that establishment. Jake alighted from it, told his coachman to wait, and entered the vestibule. He was greeted with deference and told that Simon Warbeck, the man he had come to see, was indeed in the club. He ascended the stairs and found his quarry in the card room, engaged in a game for high stakes. He knew all of the players and acknowledged them.

  ‘If it’s me you’ve come to see, Jake,’ Simon said, ‘have th
e goodness to wait for a moment. I am about to relieve these gentlemen of a guinea or two.’

  ‘You’re certainly welcome to try, Warbeck,’ replied one of his victims.

  Jake chuckled, aware that Simon would do more than try. He had a retentive memory and seldom lost a hand when he bid large, implying he was onto a certainty. If the gentlemen he was playing against did not know that much about him by now then they deserved to lose.

  ‘Damn it, Warbeck, I thought I had you there!’ Lord Symonds threw his cards down in disgust, as did the rest of the players.

  ‘You will have the opportunity for revenge on another occasion, gentleman. But for now, Torbay here clearly needs a word.’

  Amidst more complaints, Simon scooped up his winnings and followed Jake to a quiet corner. They ordered brandies from the steward who approached them and settled down in comfortable wingback chairs.

  ‘What brings you seeking me out at this hour, Jake?’ Simon asked. ‘You look preoccupied.’

  The steward returned with their drinks. Jake waited until he had withdrawn again, took a sip of fine cognac and then told him about his suspicions.

  ‘You think Barnard is back in London?’

  ‘The possibility occurred to me,’ Jake replied, referring to the man they had spent the past two months pursuing through the Highlands of Scotland. They had caught several of his underlings but Barnard managed to slip though the net, making no secret of the fact that he lived to revenge himself upon Jake, who had destroyed his reputation and turned him into a fugitive. Strictly speaking, Barnard had orchestrated his own downfall when he turned traitor, trading Government secrets with the Empire’s enemies, but Barnard did not see it that way. ‘The man is devious, desperate and backed into a corner. As I have repeatedly insisted, he will not simply crawl away. He will come out fighting, and we both know he does not fight fair.’

  ‘You think he has discovered your partiality for Mrs Grantley and means to use it against you.’

  ‘She works for me, Simon. Just as you do.’

  Simon chuckled. ‘Glad you don’t look at me the same way you do at her.’

  Jake rolled his eyes, thinking it useless to protest further. ‘No danger of that.’

  Simon wiped imaginary sweat from his brow. ‘Thank heavens for small mercies.’

  ‘I need you to have a few of our people start asking questions. Put out a reward for information leading to sightings of him.’

  ‘Have a heart, Jake.’ Simon impatiently pushed the hair out of his eyes and spread his hands. ‘There will be a deluge. You know how it is. There’s a world of difference between seeing someone—or pretending to have done so—and actually affecting his arrest. There will be sightings from the Highlands down to the tip of Cornwall. You just mark my words.’

  ‘Even so, it will not be too hard for a man of your ilk to sort the wheat from the chaff. No one has ever accused me of not being prepared.’ Jake swallowed the rest of his drink. ‘There is another possibility, though.’

  Jake explained about the latest murder, the similarities to Grantley’s, and the disappearance of Sir Hubert.

  ‘Phew! The lady attracts more than her fair share of problems. How can I help?’

  ‘Deal with the Barnard aspect for me.’ Jake shrugged. ‘I know I have a plethora of other ne’er-do-wells out for my blood but Barnard is the most desperate, and the most recent. If he’s anywhere near London I want to know about it.’

  ‘He’ll be a fool if he is.’

  ‘Even so, he will not be the first deviant to hide himself in a crowd. You know who his usual contacts are; the people most likely to offer him shelter, the areas of town where he will feel safest. Have your people concentrate on them. Parker will arrange to have Mrs Grantley’s house watched and we shall see what that particular net hauls in.’

  ‘I am, as always, at your service.’ He cast a wistful glance in the direction of the card room. ‘I have nothing better to do with my time.’

  ‘Not mine but Thorndike’s,’ Jake replied with an acidic smile. ‘Needless to say, his hands remain lily-white, and it’s the likes of you and me who will be in the direct line of fire.’

  ‘I have never heard you talk this way before.’ Simon appeared perplexed. ‘I thought you were totally committed to the service of Her Majesty’s government and thrived on the danger.’

  Jake grunted. ‘It’s a young man’s game.’

  ‘Ah well then, I can quite see why it must be getting to be too much for you.’

  Jake punched Simon’s shoulder, then stood, shook hands with his friend and took his leave.

  ҉

  ‘How many days shall we be gone, madam?’ Molly asked, looking sour-faced at the prospect of removing to one in the finest residences in London, where her position as a lady’s maid would afford her status in the senior servants’ hall.

  ‘I have no idea,’ Olivia replied, wondering what had got into the wretched girl. ‘Pack sufficient clothes for a week. If we stay for longer than that you will have to come back and collect more things.’

  Molly sniffed. ‘As you wish.’

  This was too much! ‘Is there a point you wish to make, Molly?’

  ‘No, ma’am.’

  ‘Then I am very glad my arrangements meet with your approval.’

  Olivia’s sarcasm was lost on the girl, who bustled off with a face like a wrinkled prune and saw to the packing.

  On the last occasion when Olivia, Eva and Amelia Armitage had gone to stay in Grosvenor Square, they had been shuffled out the back entrance of her residence in Cheyne Walk like debtors evading the bailiffs. Jake had insisted upon it, pretending that he didn’t want anyone to know where they were moving to. He said it was for her own protection, but Olivia suspected that he wanted to avoid his name becoming irrevocably tied to hers, which it would have been, she supposed, had her arrival at his home been witnessed by any of his well-heeled neighbours. She of all people ought to know that the gossip mill was alive and thriving within the elevated circles of society’s elite, where tongues had still not stopped wagging about her possible involvement in her husband’s death.

  She could not blame Jake for his caution, much as she would like to take offence. After all, he had avoided becoming leg-shackled for years now despite the best efforts of some of the most ambitious match-makers in the capital. She ought to have been grateful to him for pretending that secrecy was necessary to avoid reprisals by his enemies. Even so, feeling vulnerable and resenting the requirement to rely upon Jake for protection, a small part of Olivia had wondered at the time if he was ashamed of her.

  Today, according to Parker, they were required to make as much fuss as possible about leaving by the front door, but she had absolutely no idea why. Jake’s barouche was outside, the Torbay crest emblazoned on the doors. A crowd of urchins had gathered to stare at it, pointing grubby fingers, jostling one another, eager to be the recipients of any largesse the owner of this fine equipage felt inclined to distribute. Adults passing by were scarcely less obvious in their gawping. What was Jake playing at, Olivia wondered. He never did anything without a reason and he really ought to have the courtesy to keep her informed.

  Tom lightened Olivia’s mood. He was in high spirits as he sat beside her in the carriage, chattering away the entire time, still clutching his prized sailing ship. If made Olivia feel queasy every time her glance fell upon it and she wondered who could have sent it, and why. But she didn’t have the heart to take it away from him.

  ‘Shall we sail my boat on the pond in the park, Jane?’ he asked enthusiastically. ‘I expect it will go further than all the others.’

  ‘We shall see, Master Tom,’ Jane replied, glancing at Olivia, who made a point of staring out of the window to avoid answering.

  Tom constantly pointed at the sights and, by three-year-old standards, made remarkably astute and very blunt comments about the passers-by. Jane and Molly sat opposite them. Jane laughed at Tom’s antics but Molly remained stony-faced, fingers laced primly
together in her lap. Already, Olivia already regretted bringing her along. Jane was perfectly capable of taking care of Tom and acting as lady’s maid too, especially with so many other servants on hand in Grosvenor Square. But there again, why should Olivia inconvenience herself because her maid had developed a puritanical streak?

  ‘Why does that lady have a bowl of fruit on her head, Mama?’ Tom’s voice recalled Olivia’s wandering attention. ‘Won’t it fall off?’

  Olivia bit back a laugh as she espied the ugly bonnet in question. ‘With great good fortune it might, darling.’

  ‘Perhaps she’s worried about getting hungry, Master Tom,’ Jane suggested with a smile for Olivia.

  ‘I would prefer to have sausages on my hat,’ Tom said.

  Jake greeted the carriage himself when it arrived at his door.

  ‘As you can see,’ Olivia said as he handed her out of the conveyance. ‘Parker kept us safe from marauders.’

  ‘What is a marauder, Mama? I would like to be one.’

  Jake swept Tom from his feet and threw him over his shoulder. ‘You have to grow big and strong and eat all of your vegetables if you want to maraud.’

  Tom giggled as he hung upside down over Jake’s shoulder. ‘Can I eat sausages instead and still be a murderer? They taste much nicer than cabbage.’

  ‘Marauder, darling,’ Olivia corrected, as Jake turned her son up the right way and set him back on his feet. ‘Not murderer. There is a vast difference.’

  ‘I expect I shall be good at both,’ Tom replied, running into the vast entrance hall of Jake’s residence and hopping on one leg, from back square to black square, avoiding all the white ones for reasons best known only to him.

  ‘How does he manage to make enough noise for ten boys?’ Olivia asked, affection in her tone. ‘You will soon regret inviting us, Jake.’

  ‘Unlikely,’ Jake replied, watching as Jane scooped Tom up and took him up to the nursery floor.