Celeste Bradley - [The Liar's Club 0]

by The Spy

  “Please, simply listen,” Phillip went on. “There is still hope for Robbie. I know little of children, but I know what my father’s love and approval meant to me. For so long, he was the sun in my sky. My mood and opinions rose and set with him. He was my hero, James. As you are Robbie’s hero.”

  Phillip took a breath. “Do you realize that he knows very little about you? And what he does know, he learned from your sister. Do you never pass a conversation with him? You have taken on a son, do you understand? Not simply another member of the household, not simply an heir. A son.”

  Phillip’s intensity rang through the room. As much as James would have liked to dismiss the tutor’s insights out of hand, he had himself seen what Phillip could do with Robbie. Phillip might very well be on to something.

  And he wanted to understand, truly he did. But even as the new concept of himself as a father began to shimmer in the back of his consciousness with a light of its own, there came a brisk knock on the open door and Denny strode importantly into the room.

  “Mr. Tremayne has arrived to accompany you to your club, sir.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Phillipa waited, scarcely breathing, for James to respond to her words. But the interruption had cost her the game. He only nodded at Denny and stood.

  “Thank you, Denny. Tell him I’ll be out directly.” He walked from the study without looking at her.

  Her cause lost in the bustle of donning hat and coat, Phillipa sagged back into her chair, nearly ready to weep. She’d thought, just for a moment, that there might have been some saving of James. When she’d earlier witnessed his cold carelessness of Robbie’s feelings, she’d thought him truly foul.

  Then, when she’d seen the glimpse of lonely boy in his eyes when she’d compared him to his own father, she had remembered his various and real kindnesses to her and others.

  There was good in him. And who knew, if not for the war and its inherent politics and plays of power, he might never have taken the road to treason. He might have stayed on the path drawn for him, raising his apples and sheep in the Lancashire countryside.

  So she’d hoped, in those few minutes when he’d really seemed to be listening to her, that she could still confide in him. That he would yet be revealed as someone she could trust, that she could explain her love for her father and her need to bring him home safely. That she could still remain James’s friend, and not be forced to become his enemy.

  Denny came back to the door of the study to give her a disdainful sniff and an arch look. He had obviously heard some portion of her argument with James and just as obviously disapproved of Phillipa’s cheek in disrespecting the master.

  “I’m shutting up this room. Mr. Cunnington will not be returning to his study this evening and he has requested me to lock the door.”

  The loss Phillipa had been feeling crystallized once more into anger. James was shutting her out, shutting Robbie out. Running again.

  She stood and smiled widely at Denny. “Of course he did.” That was what one did, with an enemy on the premises. She strode away from Denny and up the stairs. Robbie was likely still in an injured fury. She ought to hurry before the schoolroom saw true damage.

  She had tried to raise a flag of peace. She had been rebuffed. As it had meant from time before time . . .

  This meant war.

  James climbed into the carriage that stood at his walk, nodding with friendly courtesy to Etheridge’s driver, who looked decidedly odd out of his usual livery.

  No identifiable livery, no emblem on the doors of the nondescript carriage, shades pulled tight despite the clear weather—

  “Is this the infamous invisible carriage from your uncle’s days as Sir Thorogood?” James settled in across from Collis and grinned. “I’d have thought there would be puce velvet cushions at least.”

  Collis grimaced. “Himself decided that I’m not being careful enough in my travels to and from the club.”

  James shook his head. “Dalton had to learn that lesson the hard way. Remember how many times he was attacked while portraying Sir Thorogood? I’m sure he’s simply trying to preserve your worthless hide.”

  “Hah. He simply hates seeing me get ahead with the ladies using the lordly conveyance. Not that all that black lacquer and polished brass ever got him rogered!”

  Surprised, James laughed out loud. “I don’t think the mighty Lord Etheridge ever lacked for company. Not before he married Clara, at any rate.”

  “You’d be surprised. Bloke was a bloody monk. I used to think he belonged to some mysterious order of knighthood. You know, one of those ‘I shall save my sacred energies for my holy mission’ factions.”

  James smiled but looked away. Best not go down that road. Collis was still unaware that Dalton Montmorency had belonged to a sort of secret order of lords. The Royal Four was the most select and exclusive of clubs, a hand-picked group who secretly advised the Prime Minister and the Crown—four brilliant, principled men with such a depth of honor and commitment to England that no amount of power and promises could sway their faith. They even abandoned names and rank within their secret circle. The Fox, the Falcon, the Lion, and of course, the Cobra, the seat that had been held by the current Prime Minister Lord Liverpool, and briefly by Dalton Montmorency before he had stepped down to take a more active role as leader of the Liar’s Club.

  A secret knighthood indeed.

  Time to change the subject. “So tell me how your training goes.”

  It was Collis’s turn to look away. “Slowly. But then, having only one usable arm makes everything take twice as long.”

  “Is there any improvement?” James hadn’t asked the question in a long while, for he knew Collis hated to answer it. The answer was always the same.

  “None to speak of. The muscles are a bit stronger according to Kurt, but I still can’t feel the hilt of a dagger in my hand, much less use it to defend myself.” Collis’s face was dark. “Most of the time I just bloody drop it,” he added disgustedly.

  “Not all of Liar training is in defense.”

  Collis shrugged. “Oh, I do well enough in the other subjects, although I do find myself rather nonplussed at the fact that I am sitting exams with housemaids and rat catchers.”

  “Snob.”

  “Ooh, listen to the mighty apple farmer! You’d bloody well be a snob, too, if you were being passed up by an illiterate chambermaid!”

  Aha. The root of the problem was revealed. Lady Etheridge had once befriended a canny little housemaid named Rose. When Dalton had searched for Clara and found Rose, he’d taken her from her servitude to a noxious lord and installed her as the first woman ever to be recruited by the Liar’s Club.

  “She scored higher than you again, didn’t she?”

  “Bloody right she did! And I studied that time!”

  James nodded. “I’m sure. But Rose has a lifetime of education to make up for. She is very determined.”

  “She’s bloody obsessed, is what she is.”

  “That might not be overstating the case, but what of it? Obsession can be a handy thing in an operative.”

  Collis only grumbled something unintelligible, then changed the subject. “You looked like a thundercloud when you left your house. What happened?”

  James shifted restlessly. “Phillip thinks I don’t pay enough attention to Robbie. He thinks I don’t treat him like a son.” James toyed with his hat. “He was rather heated on the subject.”

  Collis nodded sagely. “Seen it before.” He cocked a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of James’s house. “That bloke needs a good rogering.”

  “Now, Collis, you know how I feel on that subject—”

  “Hah! The whole world knows how you feel on that subject. Look at your household! It’s even more of a bloody monastery than Etheridge House. All you’ve got is Denny and that bristling sea cook of yours. And now Robbie and Phillip. Are you planning on starting your own brotherhood?”

  James shrugged. The fact
that he hadn’t dared challenge his own decision to avoid women with so much as a housemaid within reach didn’t say much for his proposed self-control, but it was nonetheless true. “I simply don’t want to think about women if I can avoid it. Not any of it. Not the swish of skirts, or the way they smell, or how they hum when they work—I thought it best to stay focused on my goals.”

  “Well, you may have donned a cleric’s collar, but I’ll wager Phillip hasn’t. Why don’t you let me bring him along to Mrs. Blythe’s ball in a few days? He can have a taste of fun, no strings attached. Every bit of lace in the demimonde will be there. One of them is sure to make a man of him.” He toyed idly with his cravat. “I could use a bit of time on the mount myself. The bored wives at court are making my life bloody miserable. All tease and no bite.” Then he grinned. “Well, a few of them bite.”

  James snorted at Collis’s indelicate confidence. “Such a gentleman, Col.” Still, perhaps a bit of manly satisfaction would boost Phillip’s ego and confidence. Make a man out of him, as Collis had said. And if it would get Phillip out of that strange mood he’d been in lately, all the better.

  “Very well, then. We’ll take him along.”

  Collis blinked. “We? Are you coming as well, Father James?”

  James held up a hand to halt further teasing. “Only to keep a close eye on him. Knowing you, he’d end up singing naked in a tree in Hyde Park.”

  Collis shook a finger at him. “No one ever proved that was me.”

  James laughed at his friend’s mock outrage and settled back into his cushions, more relaxed than he’d been in days. Yes, a night out was the very thing for Phillip. Then perhaps he would stop looking at James as if he’d failed somehow and things could go back to the smooth and even.

  That would be very pleasant indeed.

  • • •

  Since her employer meant to stay out late and her charge was in no mood for schooling, Phillipa declared the day a holiday and proposed a walk in the park.

  “He wasn’t even listenin’,” muttered Robbie in response.

  “Well, he has gone out and I’m in the mood for an ice. If you don’t wish to come along, that is your prerogative. Too bad. It’s difficult to find ice vendors once summer is gone. Who knows when you’ll taste your next—what was your favorite again?”

  Robbie gave her knowing look. “You know I like the red ones.”

  “Ah, of course. Who knows when you’ll taste your next raspberry ice?”

  Robbie heaved a great sigh and stood as if it pained him. “Bloody interfering bird,” he muttered. “Don’t know when to leave a man alone.”

  “No, I never did catch on to that one,” Phillipa replied cheerfully. “Simply didn’t take, I suppose.”

  Robbie sighed heavily, the adult act almost humorous in such a small person. “Go on, why don’t you? Leave me.”

  Phillipa bit her lip as she gazed down at the top of his dark head. In a way, she had left him already. She’d been so absorbed in her anger and helplessness that she had shut Robbie from her, abandoning him to James’s awkward heartlessness. She knelt to tip his chin up and gaze into his woeful blue eyes.

  “No,” she said with quiet intensity. No matter her issue with James, she would not abandon Robbie again. Ever. “We go together, or not at all. I pledge this to you.”

  Robbie blinked at her vehemence, then nodded. “Cor. When you wants an ice, you really wants an ice.”

  Phillipa laughed, shaking away her fervor as they left the schoolroom for their outing. “Never get between a girl and her sweets, Robbie. Every man should remember that.”

  • • •

  When they reached the district in Cheapside near Upkirk’s, James tossed Collis a red waistcoat.

  The younger man blinked. “Did you cosh a Bow Street Runner for this? I hear they hold them closer than gold.”

  James pulled on his own, then donned the coarser jacket kept for such occasions. “It’s good cover. When people see the red vest, they don’t look any further. I find out more interesting bits this way. No one crosses Bow Street if they can help it.”

  Collis donned his and the jacket that James had asked him to bring along. “I always wanted to be a Bow Street Runner when I was a lad.”

  James twitched his lips. “Is that so? I always wanted to be a spy.”

  Collis and James hit good fortune with the fourth boarding-house they investigated. They entered the shabby building under the pall of a gray sky which threatened rain, which should have made the indoors seem rather cozy and warm.

  The place was full damp, and James suspected it would be so on the sunniest of days, for the old house was shaded on all sides by higher structures. Wilted and straggling weeds were the only adornment on the outside of the plain stone structure, if one discounted years of accumulated soot and bird droppings.

  Within, there was an overwhelming smell of wood rot and boiled cabbage, and other things still less pleasant. The landlady, Mrs. Farquart, a spare woman with the face of an unfriendly hatchet, affirmed that a red-haired young woman had indeed stayed there.

  “She were here for two months or so. First she was right smart about the rent, but then she got later and later. Said she were lookin’ for work, but I don’t think she ever found none. Why, what’d she steal from you?”

  The woman’s tone broke through James’s excitement. He exchanged a look with Collis. “Have you proof of her thievery?”

  The woman sniffed. “I should say so! She took the war pay of a young widow, stole forty pounds right from the poor child’s trunk!”

  “May we speak to this widow?”

  Mrs. Farquart shook her head. “Done kilt herself. Lost her mind, she did. Lost her man, lost her fortune, lost her mind. And that faithless red-haired witch stealing from her all along. Bessie should have let me keep it safe for her.” She flicked gimlet eyes this way and that. James wouldn’t have trusted her with a broken copper, much less forty pounds.

  “So this woman is no longer with you?”

  “Run her out, I did! She came to pay me with that filthy money. That’s when I knew she’d taken it!”

  “What name was she using?”

  Mrs. Farquart stopped then, quite suddenly. Her expression became craftier, if that was possible. “You want her bad, don’t you?” She rubbed four fingers into her other palm. Collis rolled his eyes at the not-so-subtle signal. James quietly stepped on Collis’s foot and smiled at the woman.

  “I can certainly guarantee you some recompense for your trouble.”

  “Her name was Watts.” She halted, dismayed surprise upon her face as she desperately tried to remember. “Penelope?”

  “Are you asking me?”

  “Watts, yes. Penelope Watts. That’s what I told the other bloke.”

  James froze. “What other bloke?”

  She shrugged. “The bloke what was in here this morning again.”

  “Did you get his name?”

  “Didn’t give me one.”

  “Can you describe him?”

  The woman blinked at his urgent tone. “A bloke is all. Had a limp.”

  Useless. James struggled against his own edginess. “So you claim this Penelope Watts—whose name you’re unsure of—with red hair stole forty pounds from a fellow boarder, then paid you in full. Whereupon you threw her out?”

  Mrs. Farquart shifted her eyes and bobbed her head. “Yes. That’s it. Five days ago.”

  “Have you any notion where she may have gone next?”

  Obviously seeing her chances of “recompense” slipping away, the woman shrugged bitterly. “She said she found work.”

  “A thief who works?” inquired Collis. “How remarkable.”

  James stepped down harder on Collis’s foot and nodded to the landlady. “I thank you, madam, for your kind attention.”

  He turned smartly and strode out, Collis on his heels. The air may have been damp and redolent of soot and the Thames, but James breathed deeply, his lungs needing cleansing after th
eir turn in that dank house.

  Collis rubbed his hands. “Gah! I shan’t be able to touch cabbage for months! Still, we did learn something useful. We’re hot on her trail now.” His smile faded when James turned on him with a grim lack of expression.

  “We have no trail. She has forty pounds. She has the means to run full to the Americas if it takes her fancy. A broke red-haired woman we could find. A woman with resources . . .” He climbed into the waiting carriage. “Our search just expanded beyond our means.”

  Collis climbed in after him. “Are you sure? Wouldn’t she stay in London if this is where her father sent her?”

  James cocked his head as he considered that notion. “Yes. Still, it will be a long slog to track her, even if we limit ourselves to London.” He sighed and leaned back into the cushions. “Five days. We missed her by five bloody days.”

  Chapter Twenty

  The carriage was rounding the park when Collis sat up abruptly. “Look, there’s Phillip now.”

  James leaned to peer beneath the half-open shade to see Phillip strolling down the walk with Robbie, who was fast demolishing a paper dish of ice. As he watched, Phillip looked down at Robbie and laughed, then stopped to pull out his handkerchief and give the boy’s face a much-needed swipe.

  Collis leaned forward. “James, old man, I think we need to get Phillip off to Mrs. Blythe immediately.”

  “What do you mean?” James continued to watch Phillip and Robbie. The boy certainly seemed happier and more comfortable with his tutor than with James.

  “He’s acting more like a governess than a tutor. Or did your tutor wipe your chin for you?”

  James didn’t have an opportunity to reply to this, for Collis leaned through the small window to call for the driver to stop. Then he opened the door before the footman could jump down and stepped halfway down. “Phillip! Rob!”