by Suzi Love
He stiffened, ready to spring to her defense.
“Several gentlemen have spoken of a lady, a blue-stocking spinster so engrossed in her extreme scientific studies she has sunk so low as to take the scandalous step of—”
The Countess hesitated in a theatrical fashion, paused, waited till she’d gained the attention of every avid listener in their vicinity.
“Sniffing! Inhaling men’s–” Another dramatic pause. “Oh, one can hardly dare express the word in this exalted company. Yet, apparently, and do correct me if it is untrue, Lady Laura, but one shocked gentleman had the ridiculous idea you actually meant to inhale his… his bodily moisture. “She made a tut-tutting sound of utter disapproval, waited again until her audience were captured, absorbing every word she dropped into the conversation. “His perspiration.” She lifted the back of one gloved hand to her brow in an expression of her utter shock and horror, and gave a loud groan.
Around them several other ladies made the same tittering sounds, and snorts and moans of disapproval were expressed. Words describing physical functions of any sort, no matter how minor, were never, ever, ever mentioned in a ballroom. True ladies were expected to swoon at such a thing. Expected to give a public demonstration of their sensibilities being overset.
The Countess directed a smug smile in Laura’s direction. “So, please, do reassure me this horrifying rumor is untrue.”
Satisfied with the drama she’d created, the Countess turned to Richard, smiled, expected him to agree with her. He stood speechless with anger. Thankfully. If he spoke, he’d make matters much, much worse, because the language he’d use would also be scandalous for a ballroom. His fist clenched at his sides and his jaw tightened.
Three sets of Jamison eyes sparked with anger. The Countess pretended to not notice the growing tension in the air. Conversation in the groups around them ceased. Nearby couples strained to hear what was being said.
“No, I assure you, Countess Newbery, that everything you heard is true. I am fast becoming a scenting scandal. Not only do I mix perfumes and colognes for my family and friends, what some would see as engaging in trade--oh, tut-tut, shock and horror, how dreadful I am--but I’ve also been studying the perspiration–”
From nearby, Lady Tilton could be heard give a loud gasp and supposedly swooned, as her husband said out loud, “Oh, good grief, Matilda. Not again. Where is your vinaigrette?”
Richard felt the time had come to end this little scene, before the group of gossiper around them increased and rumors started circulating the ballroom of an open dispute between two ladies.
“Ladies,” he announced loudly. “We are leaving.”
He took Laura’s arm before she could protest, and prodded her in the direction of the door. Lottie took up her aunt’s arm and followed closely behind them.
As they walked away, the Countess, not content with the amount of scandal she had already attempted to stir, called after him, “Richard, darling, I shall speak with you later.”
It took the next thirty minutes and all of his considerable maneuvering tactics to escort them through the crowded room, collect their wraps and assist them to his coach. A long half hour in which none of the Jamison ladies spoke.
Finally, after the coach had rumbled into motion, he broke the taut silence.
“Lady Laura, I know that you have acute smelling senses.”
Silence.
“I know all about your distillery, your perfumes and colognes and soaps, the medicaments you mix–”
The three women sat as still as statues, even the older Lady Jamison who normally chattered incessantly. The idea of her niece causing a scandal with her sniffing had distressed her visibly.
He tried again to start a conversation and lighten the dismal mood.
“But Sherwyn also hinted at some sort of experiment that Becca helped you conduct. Although, every time Brian, Tony and I asked, my cousin would fix us with his superior and smug look and merely announce that we needed to find out firsthand.”
He glanced at the faces of the three women, all knowing the secret that Laura still hid from him. But all three faces were carefully blanked of all expression. There were no tell-tale hints, not even from Aunt Aggie.
“The only thing Sherywn would say, with repeated emphasis, was that it almost turned his hair gray when he discovered what Becca intended doing. And with whom. Therefore, Sherwyn thought it fair punishment that every other man should discover what it entailed by investigation. Rather than by him informing us.”
Silence from the three ladies.
“He said it would spoil the surprise for us. And then he’d laugh, in a ridiculously smug manner that always set my teeth on edge. Now, I find myself puzzled by what he meant. And yet, fearful of finding out. Does it have something to do with your ideas of sniffing every man in existence, Laura?”
He sighed. “Well, let me start off on another foot and apologize for any embarrassment the Countess caused to you this evening. I am extremely sorry that I ever introduced her to any of you. She is not a lady to have brought up a subject that was intended to cause distress to you, Lady Laura.”
Aunt Aggie finally spoke. “Winchester, we do not hold you to blame for any words that spewed from the mouth of that spiteful woman. It has become obvious at every event we have attended for the past sennight that the lady has her sights set upon becoming your wife. She will go to any lengths to embarrass anyone she fears may be in competition for your favors.”
Hell! He had no idea how to handle this.
“What an awkward situation that places me in, my lady. The Countess is, of course, only as human as every other woman. I cannot deny my charms are so great, so notorious, that women fight over me in ballrooms now. Though, if women find me irresistible, can it be deemed my fault?” He dramatically clasped his hands to his chest, a tired-and-true pose of Shakespeare’s Romeo.
Aunt Aggie and Lottie both laughed at his attempt at a jest, but Laura refused to give in and laugh, or to even glance at him. Silence descended for another ten minutes before Laura suddenly asked, “Did you discover anything from the gentlemen in the billiard room?”
He heaved a sigh of relief, glad she had steered her mind away from tonight’s fiasco and back to their more pressing problem. The danger lurking around them from the shooter.
His next twenty minutes were spent revealing every snippet of gossip he’d picked up from his peers from around the card room, or on the sidelines of the dances.
“I’ve confirmed that a new investment consortium has been trying to whip up interest amongst the social elite. Members of the new Syndicate have been cornering men, and women, at every opportunity. Wherever there has been a gathering in the last two weeks, a representative of one of the lower order syndicates has made himself known. They’re trying to entice a large number of new investors. And each time, the name of the syndicate is different. Whoever is controlling the smaller groups has covered their tracks extremely well. One syndicate has no idea who leads the others.”
He had their absolute attention now. Excitement over their current mystery was better, far, far better, than the tense silence he’d endured for the first part of the carriage ride to Jamison House. The sight of Laura’s pale strained face was like a knife to his gut. She sat straight as a plank of wood, fists clenched and ruining her beautiful new skirt, her eyes close to spilling tears.
Never in his life before had he experienced such a fierce need to soothe the hurts of another person, despite adoring his four sisters and always being on hand if they suffered any illness or injury.
He sighed again, before forcing himself to continue in as normal a voice as possible. “It’s become obvious that the Consortium is making secret investments again, but whether or not this new one is being led Lord Hetherington’s estranged wife, that I have been unable to discover. It’s what worries me most.”
“Yes,” Lottie said. “That is our most pressing question. Is this being masterminded by the same demented lady who
tried to kill our sister? The same one who organized so many of Lord Hetherington’s sordid blackmail schemes the first time.”
“We do know that the ghastly Lady escaped before she could be locked away in Bedlam with all those other mad people,” Aunt Aggie said, “but so far Thompkins and our footman have uncovered little news of her. Other than the idea that they think she may be the unnamed woman buying several high class bordellos.” She sent a sharp look towards her nieces. “Not that I like the idea of you girls conspiring with Madame Faberge and the other owners of establishments of entertainment–” She broke off and glared at him, when a small laugh escaped his lips.
“Laugh if you will, Winchester, but my girls associate with the notorious Madame Faberge. I assume you know her.”
He smothered another grin. Conversations with this family were never ordinary, dull, or boring. “I do know of Madame and her establishment, yes.”
Across from him, Laura rolled her eyes.
“Well, it is rather hard to stop the girls from associating with these sort of females, when they are so desperately in need of assistance with their finances. And my girls are so wonderful at that sort of thing. And then of course by knowing them, Thompkins, our
butler–”
He nodded, wondering where this was headed.
“Thompkins could then send out his boys, street urchins that we employ for a few coins and some food, to provide us with information from around the streets, you understand.”
He nodded again, as it seemed to be all that was required of him.
“Thompkins and our footmen are a godsend at spying around some of the houses of ill-repute, and they are reporting to us who owns which ones, and which ones are the most profitable…that sort of thing, you understand.”
This time he burst out laughing. “Forgive me, my lady, but it is somewhat unusual for a lady of your station to be discussing the owners of…ah… houses.”
“Well, I fear for the lives of our family, you understand, so we must all help find the culprits quickly. I will not sleep easy until they are all behind bars.”
He nodded, understanding her fear for her nieces, intrepid as they tended to be. He feared for them himself.
“I’ve my own sources at all the normal places trying to discover if the lady has been able to round up her old servants. Ones who were loyal to her, not to the husband she tried to murder. So far, no one has tracked her down to where she is living. I’ve spoken to many men tonight, and no one who has been approached for money has been told who is the main organizer. Only that a group is being formed and if they want to be included, they must first agree to accept all the terms without argument. Only then will they be allowed to join a small group. Each syndicate joins the honeycomb of interlocking groups. There is very little information available, because they’ve been promised absolute discretion after they register their interest.”
“Not like last time, then,” Laura said, “when their names were made known after we shattered the upper rungs of the organization. When blame fell, it fell on them. Their reputations were blackened inexorably.”
“To stop that happening again,” he said, “they’ve been promised that, this time, there will be no shady underhand deals. No blackmail. No coercion. Though so far as I know, no gentleman has been daring enough to risk trying it. And already there are rumors of some instances where men have said no and are now being pressured into joining.”
He looked at the women, unsure how to deliver this news. “In fact, the talk at the ball was that Joseph Longman, a green young man not long ago launched onto the Town scene, and known by many to have a ready supply of cash, had refused twice before to listen to anything about the Consortium. He’d publicly ridiculed the men just last week who discussed investing, as he said his father and his cronies are certain it will end just as the last one did. In tragedy. With a loss of money to investors. And in a loss of face to those silly enough to get caught in the web of the unscrupulous organizers.”
He sighed. “Apparently Longman made his feelings known far and wide, and now, tonight, he’s not made an appearance. When two friends went to collect him earlier, the young man couldn’t be found. They assumed he’d changed his mind and had made his own way to the ball. They searched for him for two hours before realizing he hadn’t ever arrived.”
Lottie became visibly upset. “Dreadful news. I know Mr. Longman quite well. He’s the most sensible of all the men I’ve met recently. Keeps his rather large feet firmly planted on this earth. Doesn’t have his head in the clouds as so many of these idiotic fops do.”
“I agree,” Laura said. “I’ve danced with Mr. Longman several times. He’s a sensible sort. Not the type to disappear up some actress’s skirts.”
“Really, Laura,” her aunt said, shaking her head. “But knowing the steadiness of that dear young gentleman, it does seem suspicious. I shall feel dreadful if harm has come to Mr. Longman because we didn’t send that lunatic lady to goal, rather than the asylum.”
The three women turned in unison to look at Richard.
He groaned, but knew he had no choice. “Fine. No sleep for me tonight. I shall endeavor to discover Longman’s whereabouts. If no one has seen him this evening, I’ll assist his friends in locating him. Would that satisfy the three of you?”
Three pairs of Jamison eyes gleamed in triumph. Three Jamison smiles told him he’d done the right thing.
But it was Laura he watched the closest. She met his eyes without her usual frown of disproval, and her half smile displayed a glimmer of admiration, perhaps even a hint of liking. No wonder so many of the younger bachelors in the upper ten thousand were known to compete for one of those approving smiles from Luscious Laura. And it was quite obvious why many not-so-single men gave Laura a second or third going over with lustful eyes.
Men would walk over hot coals to have a woman smile at them like that, though not him of course. His future countess’s charms wouldn’t include any facial expressions that could make other men fall at her feet.
Laura smiled again, a tiny turning up of the corners of her mouth, while her aunt continued to express her gratitude. And like a fish being reeled directly into a frying pan, Richard heard himself agree to not only locate the missing man, but to afterwards report his findings to them.
Good grief. He was doomed.
Chapter Seven
The Earl of Winchester stepped inside the foyer of the first club on his list for seeking information, and was immediately drawn to the commotion. He joined a large group of his peers, one of many groups crowded into the generally subdued common room, and listened to their discussions on the current status of Mr. Joseph Longman.
As Richard mingled with the crowd surging in and out of the adjoining rooms, he overheard enough to be certain that the two main topics were the young man’s adventure and the chances of Longman recovering from his attack. Longman was well-liked amongst all levels of his peers, so the club was agog with news of his abduction.
“….dragged from his rooms while he dressed for the evening.”
“Heard the poor lad was bound and gagged and driven to the outskirts of the city. He was kicked and beaten by several men.”
“Dreadful situation. The lower classes are too full of themselves, if they have taken to attacking harmless young lads.”
Richard moved between the rooms and picked up snippets of conversation as he went.
“Lost consciousness…Lucky for Longman that a clergyman passed by…He’d been offering comfort to a dying man at a manor house…Spotted Longman’s body beside the road.”
“Bloody hell. Will he survive?”
“We can only hope. The clergyman found enough in the lad’s pockets to piece together the pertinent facts: Longman’s name and where he lived. Clever man, that clergyman. He deposited Longman with the closest doctor, and then sent off quick messages to the most likely addresses.”
“Pity it took so long.”
“But at least his family is now on th
eir way to collect him.”
“Dreadful news. Any clue as to why he was abducted? Was it robbery?”
“Bit of a puzzle, apparently. Money missing, yet he his signet ring was left. Nor did the ruffians steal the diamond stick pin from his cravat.”
“Either the abductors were sloppy thieves, or they wanted Longman for something else.”
“Yes, but what? There was no demand for money.”
Richard agreed with these men. Abducting Longman and then releasing him made no sense unless the robbers had been interrupted and, from what he’d pieced together, the clergyman hadn’t found Longman until he was almost frozen to death.
Another man said, “We can only hope Longman recovers his senses. Throws some light on the matter.”
“Meanwhile,” another voice added, “policemen from the district Magistrate’s office have been assigned the case. They’ve taken the clergyman back to the spot where he found Longman. They’re trying to retrace the route the carriage took out of London. Hoping someone noticed it pass.”
“Let’s hope they uncover the truth, and quickly,” Richard said to one group of acquaintances. “We all know how rumors spread. Stories become exaggerated out of all proportion.”
The men around him nodded their agreement. “That’s likely to cause even more unrest,” one said. “There’s been more than enough disturbance amongst our ranks recently.” He looked directly at Richard and asked, “Have you heard anything about this new investment syndicate?”
Richard shook his head. “Have you?”
The man, a pompous old baron known more for his gossipy nature than for any shrewd investing, said, “Only that it’s a closed club.” He sniffed. “By invitation only.”
The baron obviously hadn’t been asked; yet several others nodded to say they had received invitations to a meeting, though details were to be sent later to all those who’d answered ‘Aye’.
When he’d garnered all the news he was likely to hear that night, Richard left the club and ordered his driver to go slowly through Grosvenor Square. Apart from his obligation to see if any lights remained lit in Jamison House, he was drawn to the dwelling and its occupants; compelled like a bee scenting honeysuckle.
