‘It is not unexpected. They were well paid to stay quiet. And Mrs Silver is adamant they have not talked.’
‘And I think she is correct for Tilly would not speak of Miss Noir to me. But she did let slip that there was one gentleman who offered serious gelt—I mean hundreds of pounds—for the smallest scrap of information concerning Miss Noir. Tilly thinks that one of the footmen may have been tempted to break his silence. Apparently the servant has recently disappeared. And there were whispers that he was experiencing financial difficulties of a nature similar to my own.’
‘Gambling debts?’
Hunter gave a nod.
‘And what of the gentleman asking the questions?’
‘A Mr Smith, apparently, although I doubt he would have been fool enough to use his real name.’ Hunter gave a grim smile, which soon faded as his eyes met Dominic’s.
Dominic’s gaze narrowed. ‘Smith?’
‘Indeed. I see it has some significance for you.’
‘Did the girl tell you anything else other than his name?’
Hunter smiled again. ‘Oh, yes. Very observant is Tilly. She described him right down to his “dark dangerous eyes”, and his walking cane with a “monstrous silver wolf’s head” as its handle. She noticed it because it had tiny emerald chips for eyes.’
A wolf’s head on a walking cane? There was something familiar about that. Dominic had seen such an item before, but he could not remember where. ‘Cannot be too many of those around.’
‘No,’ said Hunter with a meaningful smile. ‘I see your mind follows the same path as mine. I suppose now you will be off hunting down this Smith character tonight rather than hitting the town with young Northcote and Bullford and a few of the others?’
The two men exchanged a look.
‘Damned shame. Thought you might have changed our present run of bad luck on the tables.’
‘Another night, my friend,’ Dominic said and gave Hunter a light thump on the shoulder. ‘After I have found Smith.’
Chapter Eighteen
Dominic was becoming increasingly frustrated with the slow progress of the investigation. It had been half an hour since the ex-Bow Street runner had left his study in Arlesford House and Dominic was musing over the scraps of information the man had delivered. Despite five days of intense questioning, tracking and bribing, it had proved impossible to find the silversmith who had crafted the unusual head of the walking cane. And all enquiries to discover its owner had so far met with a wall of silence.
Dominic’s other lines of enquiries had been more fruitful. He knew that Smith had attempted to buy information concerning Arabella in her guise as both Miss Noir and Mrs Marlbrook from a variety of sources, including the servants both in his and Arabella’s households. He knew that enquiries had been made concerning who was paying the rent on the town house in Curzon Street, who had ordered and paid for the furnishings and who had arranged for and paid the servants.
The missing manservant from Mrs Silver’s had been found in a gaming house in Brighton, frittering away the last of his enormous bribe on the tables, with not a one of his debts cleared, and a very ugly posse of creditors at the door. Five hundred pounds was an extraordinary sum to have been paid for a description and confirmation of the fact that the Duke of Arlesford had bedded Miss Noir on her first night in the place and bought her the next evening from Mrs Silver. And although Dominic did not yet know the identity of Smith, he did know that someone very rich had gone to a lot of trouble to find Arabella.
The obvious next step was to go up to Amersham and speak to Arabella, but there was a risk that if he did she would tell him nothing, Smith would get word of it and then would discover her whereabouts. He needed to find this Smith first. And he wondered again why the hell Arabella had not come to him for help. No matter the threats Smith had made about revealing her identity, Dominic knew he could have protected her. He massaged the tightness from his temple and poured himself a brandy.
There came the sound of the front door being opened and then quietly closed again. Dominic barely noticed it. What he did notice was the light running footsteps that pattered quietly across the marble flags of his hallway. He felt the warning whisper against the back of his neck and goosepimple his skin. Dominic stopped lounging, sat upright and set his glass down on the desk. His hand was slipping within his desk drawer just as the door burst open and a small dark cloaked figure rushed into his study to stand before him.
She gave a small scream when she saw him sitting behind the desk. ‘They said that you would not be—’ The woman bit off what she had been about to say. ‘That is, I—I….’ She twisted her small black gloved hands tight together.
Dominic’s fingers relaxed around the handle of his pistol for he recognised the voice and he knew who it was standing there before him. ‘What are you doing sneaking into my study, Lady Marianne?’ He raised one eyebrow and looked at her with his sternest face.
‘Then you know that it is me,’ she said softly and slipped the hood back to reveal her fair hair scraped back in a severe chignon. Lady Marianne Winslow stood there, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, her eyes huge and frightened. She clutched the cloak to her as if he were a beast about to ravish her.
‘You have not answered my question,’ he said without the flicker of a smile.
Lady Marianne’s face drained of all colour. She began to edge towards the door. ‘I fear there has been a dreadful mistake,’ she said and he could hear the slight tremor that shook her voice. ‘I should not be here.’
‘No, Lady Marianne. You should not.’ He rose and in one swift motion was across the floor to block her exit.
Lady Marianne gave a gasp and stopped where she was. ‘Please, your Grace. Let me leave unaccosted.’
‘You may leave once you have told me what you are doing here.’ His words were so cold and hard that she actually shivered.
She nodded her submission. ‘I was told that you would not be here, that I was to steal in unnoticed and leave a letter upon your desk. After which I must leave again as quietly as I had entered.’ She slipped a hand into her pocket and held out a neatly folded letter. He could see the paper shaking between her fingers.
He took it from her, noting that the front was addressed to his name alone. ‘Who sent you?’ he asked as he broke the sealing wax.
Lady Marianne gave no answer.
He began opening up the letter. ‘Spit it out, Lady Marianne, or rest assured I will keep you here until you do.’
The girl shook her head. ‘I will not tell you,’ she whispered.
He opened the last fold of the letter. And he knew then who had sent her and what this was about. For the paper was blank.
He moved swiftly to the bell and rang it. His butler appeared almost immediately.
‘Escort this young lady out via the back door, Bentley.’
Bentley was experienced enough not to reveal anything of his surprise at finding a young woman alone in his master’s study. ‘Shall I summon a hackney carriage for the lady, your Grace?’
‘No.’
Bentley glanced up at Dominic, the question clear in his eyes before his lowered them again.
‘I am sure that she has her papa awaiting outside this house even as we speak,’ he said to the butler, and then to Lady Marianne, ‘Am I not right?’
Even if she spoke not one word, she was betrayed by the blush that stained her cheeks.
‘Get her out of here as quickly as you can, Bentley,’ he commanded, knowing that he was right about what had been planned for this night.
But it was too late.
Already he could hear the hammering of fists upon the front door and heard the men enter the house without the decency of waiting for an invitation.
‘I will fetch Hillard and Dowd immediately, your Grace.’ As Bentley opened the study door two men rushed in.
‘There is no need, Bentley. I will deal with this. Leave us.’
The butler looked unconvinced, but he left al
l the same just as he had been told.
Dominic moved back to resume his seat.
‘Good evening, gentlemen. I have been expecting you,’ said Dominic as he surveyed the Earl of Misbourne and Viscount Linwood who were standing between him and Lady Marianne. ‘What a nice family reunion.’
‘Papa! Francis!’ She cried and hurried to her father and brother. ‘Thank goodness you are here. It has all gone horribly wrong!’
‘No, Lady Marianne, I suspect it has gone entirely according to plan,’ said Dominic grimly. He gestured to the two chairs on the other side of his desk. ‘Do take a seat, gentlemen.’
Misbourne ignored him and stayed where he was. He puffed out his chest. ‘Look here, you scoundrel, Arlesford. What do you think you are doing with my daughter? You have abducted her with the intention of seducing her.’
‘What are you saying, Papa? You sent me here to deliver—’
‘Silence, Marianne! Do not dare to utter another word, you foolish chit!’ roared the earl.
The girl’s face paled and she rapidly closed her mouth and backed away to stand by the door.
‘Well, Arlesford?’ demanded the earl.
‘Well?’ echoed Dominic.
‘You must know that she is ruined just by being here—a gently bred innocent alone in the house of one of London’s most scandalous rakes.’
‘If it becomes known that she is here, then, yes, I agree, your daughter’s reputation would not remain unscathed.’
‘Then you will do the gentlemanly thing and save both her honour and your own by offering for her hand?’ Misbourne’s eyes glittered as he said the words. He could barely keep the smile from his face.
‘Indeed not, sir. As you have already pointed out, I am known as a rake. Why should I care that Lady Marianne is ruined? She is your daughter.’
‘Good Gad! Where is your sense of honour, sir?’
‘In the same place as yours, Misbourne. I care not if you strip her naked and sit her upon my doorstep for all the world to see.’ From the corner of his eye he saw Lady Marianne clutch a hand to her mouth and he felt sorry that she had to witness this. ‘You may publish the story in every one of your newspapers and still I tell you most solemnly, sir, I will not marry her.’
Misbourne’s face turned an unhealthy shade of puce. And then paled to an ashen shade as he realised his plan had failed. ‘You have reneged on a contract that was agreed by your father. This betrothal has been in place since before my daughter was in her cradle.’
‘As I told you before, Misbourne, I will not be bound by a contract that never existed. I thought that we could maintain some degree of civility between us because of our political association.’
‘You led me to believe that you would consider taking her as your wife.’
‘If I did, then I am sorry, sir, for it was never my intention.’
‘You have made us a laughing stock before all of London, you damnable cur!’ the earl growled. ‘I should call you out!’
‘I would be only too happy to oblige you, sir,’ said Dominic coldly.
‘No, Papa!’ he heard Lady Marianne cry in the background.
‘A moment, sir.’ Viscount Linwood laid his hand upon his father’s shoulder. ‘We have not concluded our negotiation with his Grace.’
‘On the contrary,’ said Dominic, ‘I consider the matter closed.’
‘But we have not yet touched on Mrs Marlbrook, or should I call her Miss Noir? And then there is the consideration of the boy. I believe his name is Archie. What a startling resemblance he does bear his papa.’ Linwood smiled a dark dangerous smile, and Dominic’s gaze dropped to see the tiny glint of emeralds and the shape of a wolf’s head in the handle of the walking cane beneath Linwood’s palm.
Dominic’s stomach turned over. He felt his blood turn to ice. ‘It was you,’ he said, hardly able to believe it. Smith. And in that moment all the answers slipped into place. Linwood part-owned his father’s newspapers. He had journalistic connections. He had money in plenty. And an interest in seeing that Dominic did not marry Arabella.
‘Think of what it would do to the boy were the truth of his mama and his most famous papa to be published throughout the capital. The duke, his doxy and their bastard—what a headline that would make!’
Dominic reacted first and thought later. His fist smashed hard against Linwood’s jaw. It happened so fast the viscount did not see it coming and was left staggering and clutching a hand to his bleeding lip.
‘That is what you used to threaten Arabella when you went to Curzon Street, is it not?’ Dominic grabbed at Linwood’s lapels and backed him against the wall.
‘That and the threat of violence against your person if she told you. Did you think that I would just let you get away with how you have treated my sister?’ snarled Linwood. ‘The snub you have dealt us? You arrogant villain, Arlesford! Marry Marianne or I swear to you I will print every damn word of it.’
Dominic looked Linwood straight in the eye and watched the viscount pale. He allowed the deadly intent to show for the briefest of moments before masking it once more. And when he looked again at Linwood he was more under control and ready to play the biggest game of bluff of his life.
‘Sit down, gentlemen. Let us discuss the matter.’ He gestured once more to the chairs by his desk. ‘I am sure you will forgive my outburst…given the provocation. The urge to protect one’s blood is strong. I think we, all of us in this study, understand that. You have seen what young Archie’s mother was prepared to sacrifice. Can you expect his father to be any less protective?’ He resumed his seat behind his desk.
Both Linwood and Misbourne still looked wary, but Dominic could see that they thought victory was at hand. This time they sat down as they were bid.
‘A father has a duty to his son…and his daughter,’ said Misbourne. ‘By marrying my daughter you would be protecting your son. Only think if the scandalous story were to come out, what it would do to the child.’
‘I do, sir, and thus I will do all in my power to avoid its publication.’
Misbourne nodded and could not quite hide the triumph in his smile. ‘I am glad you begin to see sense, Arlesford.’
‘Indeed.’ Dominic returned the smile, but it was a smile that would have frozen the Thames. ‘However, it does occur to me that the story Lord Linwood outlined is perhaps not the best one to fit the facts.’
‘How so, sir?’ Linwood’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Dominic smiled again. ‘Let us review the facts: firstly, there is the blonde masked courtesan, Miss Noir, whom, in contrast to my previous custom, I have gone to great lengths to keep secret. Secondly, there is the Earl of Misbourne’s desperate insistence that I marry his daughter, his blonde daughter. And finally, there is the small matter of his daughter’s presence here, at Arlesford House, the home of a dissolute bachelor, late at night.’
‘What are you saying, Arlesford?’ Misbourne demanded.
‘Why, that the woman behind the mask of Miss Noir is none other than Lady Marianne Winslow, your daughter, sir.’
‘Damnable lies, sir!’ The words exploded from Misbourne as he jumped to his feet.
‘So you say, but what would the ton make of it, I wonder?’
Linwood got to his feet too, staring daggers across the desk at Dominic. ‘We have a witness to place Arabella Marlbrook as Miss Noir in Mrs Silver’s brothel.’
‘Do you? Have you tried to contact him lately?’ Dominic’s gaze was glacial and deadly. He rose and stood taller than the other two men. ‘It seems you did not pay him quite enough for his creditors to be completely forgiving. I fear for his health. And as for the rest of Mrs Silver’s household, I am sure that they will back my account of events.’
‘People will see that you paid for their lies,’ said Misbourne.
‘People already know why a notorious rake would pay Mrs Silver and her girls. But why would an upstanding gentleman like Viscount Linwood be paying Mrs Silver, other than for her silence over his settin
g up his own sister as a doxy to trap a duke.’
Misbourne shook his head. ‘That is too far-fetched for anyone to believe.’
‘On the contrary, sir, people will see it as a bold and ambitious plot that will only enhance your already formidable reputation. Your daughter’s reputation, I fear, will not fare so well.’ Dominic smiled a cold hard smile. ‘No, Misbourne, it is you who will be seen as the liar. And the blackmail of a respectable widow as a final act of desperation on your part.’
‘Damn you, Arlesford!’ Linwood’s knuckles gripped white against the wolf’s head handle of his cane.
Dominic glanced across at a white-faced Lady Marianne and felt the sting of his conscience. ‘Thank you, gentlemen, I see that this business is now concluded. You may use the back door if you care to save the girl from further scrutiny.’
He watched while Bentley and two footmen escorted his unwanted guests away. The door closed behind them and Dominic relaxed back down into his chair. He would weather the storm if he had to, to protect Arabella and his son, but he doubted it would come to that; instinct told him that Misbourne and Linwood now realised they had overplayed their hand.
Dominic stared at the glass of brandy on the desk before him, the tawny amber of the liquid burnished red by the warm glow from the fire. He knew now why Arabella had refused to marry him. He knew now why she had lied and said that she did not love him. And he knew why she had not come to him and told him of Smith’s threats. She had sacrificed herself to save him and their child.
He lifted the glass, and took a sip of the brandy, breathing his relief as the heat and strength of the alcohol burned his throat. He resisted the urge to run out to the stables, climb upon his horse and gallop off in the direction of Amersham. There were matters to be dealt with before he left London, matters that he would attend to at first light. He schooled his impatience and let his mind run to thoughts of Arabella.
‘Archie is in fine health this morning, Mrs Marlbrook,’ Doctor Roxby smiled.
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