The Lord’s Desperate Pledge

by Archer, Kate

  “That is a relief!” Mrs. Hemming said.

  “But those poor servants!” Lily cried. “To have no notice or reference, what must they suffer?”

  “They will not suffer, Miss Farnsworth,” Lord Ashworth said. “My man was clever enough to get all of their addresses in case we have a need to ever speak to them about this circumstance. I have made arrangements to pay them all handsomely—two of the younger that were thought promising will be sent to one of my estates to train as grooms. It will be far higher pay, a chance to advance to coachmen, and very comfortable living conditions. I presume they will be well-pleased with the scheme. One, the old porter, will be retired on a pension. The rest have enough to be at their leisure until they secure new employment. I have arranged to write references, as Lady Carradine did not. I will explain their employer was too indisposed to provide one but that I was often a patron and observed their work.”

  “How good you are, Lord Ashworth,” Mrs. Hemming said. “Very generous. Any employer would be gratified to receive a reference from a lord. It must work very much in their favor. And to think—the old porter was such a nice fellow. I like to imagine him comfortably retired.”

  Lily said nothing, but could only approve of the lord’s largesse. She was also surprised by it. She would not have expected one who was so highly placed to concern himself with the various fates of Lady Carradine’s servants.

  “I take no special credit for that, Mrs. Hemming,” he said. “It was not so much generous as it was decent and practical. Very bad form to leave servants in the lurch—a man can hardly be congratulated over remedying such a trifle. Now, I will keep a watch on Lady Carradine’s house to be sure Mr. Shine does not return and I have set watches on my own house and this one.”

  “Do you mean to say, Lord Ashworth,” Lily said, “that you believe that the danger has not wholly passed?”

  Lord Ashworth momentarily looked away from her, as if considering his answer. “I do not know, and do not like to gamble on it,” he said. “My concern with Mr. Shine is that he did not act rational last evening. Even a criminal can be expected to use commonsense and not take undue risks. He threw all caution to the wind and who knows what his actual plan was, as he did not succeed in it. Now, he may be desperate, or he may consider himself lucky to have got away. I cannot guess which. It will simply be a precaution until we feel we can let down our guard.”

  Mrs. Hemming was even now peering at the nearest window, as if she expected Mr. Shine to present himself there. Lily was deeply touched that the lord should have set a watch on the house.

  “We thank you for your consideration,” Lily said. She nearly bit her lip in saying so—she sounded over formal and stiff when she’d meant to sound gratified.

  “I presume,” Lord Ashworth said, “that you have been invited to the Bergrams’ ball this evening?”

  “Yes, we have,” Mrs. Hemming said, “though we will not go. It will do Lily good to have a peaceful evening at home.”

  “I very much encourage you to go, Mrs. Hemming,” Lord Ashworth said. “I believe we have waylaid any untoward gossip that might have sprung up about where Miss Farnsworth might have been while her carriage waited, but you must go on as usual. Nobody must think to examine the thing any more closely than they have, servants included. I suspect they would wonder at you skipping one of the most renowned balls of the season.”

  “Pips would wonder at it,” Lily said to her aunt.

  “Yes, I suppose she would,” Mrs. Hemming said. “I sometimes think she wonders too much.”

  “You will be safe,” Lord Ashworth said. “I will follow you in my own carriage. I will be waiting on the street at eight o’clock. Now, I will be off. I will see my friends and put out the word that Lady Carradine’s club is closed and there is some idea that Mr. Shine is not who we believed him to be. That should be enough said.”

  With that, Lord Ashworth rose and took his leave.

  Lily watched him go, his broad shoulders very much reminding her of the arms that had carried her to safety.

  After the door closed behind him, Mrs. Hemming said, “It seems Lord Ashworth has things well in hand. I am most thankful for it, I would not have the first idea of what to do next. I rather thought we might hide in the house for some days. To think, he’s set a watch on us and will follow us to the Bergram’s. I know you do not favor him, but perhaps he was never as bad as you thought.”

  “Indeed,” Lily said softly, “he never was.”

  *

  Hayes made his way to Dalton’s house. It was still before noon, and as he had fully expected, neither Dalton, Cabot, nor Grayson had yet left the house.

  He’d found Dalton and Cabot in the library, engaged in a spirited debate over some horse or other that would run at Newmarket. He’d had to wait for Grayson to descend. As usual, that gentleman took more time with his dress than any thinking man should do.

  Finally, Grayson sauntered in, his neckcloth a starched testament to an overworked valet. “What’s this?” he said. “Is Ashworth moving in now?”

  “Certainly not,” Hayes said. “I wished to tell you of a circumstance I would like put about the town.”

  Hayes had no intention of telling his friends the real circumstance. There was too much risk that a slip of the tongue would set other tongues wagging about Miss Farnsworth. He would only tell them what was necessary.

  “As long as it is not another rumor about a lady,” Lord Cabot said. “I am still getting it on all sides regarding Miss Knightsbridge. I mean, Lady Hampton. My own mother wrote that if I dare turn up before her temper has settled, she may well set the dogs on me. This might be amusing, as her dogs could only attack me at my ankles, but I think I will not try it.”

  “It’s nothing to do with anything like that,” Hayes said hurriedly. “It is only this—Lady Carradine’s club has closed and it seems her newly-arrived cousin is the cause of it. It appears that Mr. Shine was not all he said he was. They are both gone from London.”

  “Mr. Shine?” Lord Cabot said.

  “Yes, I suppose you met him. An oily and ingratiating individual,” Hayes said.

  “I did not, I kept thinking I would go to the club and then never got there. Though, certainly, there cannot be another!” Lord Cabot exclaimed.

  “Should there be another?” Lord Grayson asked.

  “Say what you mean, Cabot,” Lord Dalton said. “Are you previously acquainted with this Mr. Shine?”

  “Only by a retelling,” Lord Cabot said. “Good Lord, Ashworth, I am surprised you do not know of Mr. Shine, your father was on the very scene.”

  “What scene?” Hayes asked, alarmed that Mr. Shine might have a deeper history than what he’d given him credit for.

  “Lockwood told me all about it when he explained to me, though I did not ask, why Lady Sybil’s father had such an aversion to his duke,” Lord Cabot said. “Ages ago, Gravesley hosted a house party and Mr. Shine was there, exposed as a cheat by Hampton’s grandmother. Lord Blanding became convinced that Gravesely and your own father knew all along.”

  “That was the card sharp at Gravesley’s house all those years ago?” Hayes asked. He needed to think quickly. Of course, he’d heard the story, as told from his father’s perspective, but the villain of the piece had always been called “the sharp.” His father had said the sharp had been a fellow he and Gravesley had done some sort of business with and had seemed respectable enough. They’d invited him to a shooting party as he’d claimed a great facility at it.

  Now, he was to learn that the sharp was Mr. Shine? My God, the man himself must have been all too aware of the connection. Was there nothing the scoundrel would not dare?

  “It was supposed to be a shooting party,” Lord Cabot went on, “and then it rained buckets and the gambling commenced. Lockwood said they all assumed he went off to America to avoid paying the price for his cheating. Lady Carradine lived in America too. They must have reconnected as cousins there.”

  Hayes knew very w
ell they were not cousins, though it was likely they had somehow made a connection in America. He would only wish that his friends would not find the story so interesting. Mr. Shine was appearing more and more troublesome, and the less said about the man, the better.

  Thinking to turn their minds, he said, “In any case, he is gone. I suppose you will attend the Bergrams’ ball?”

  The men nodded. Dalton said, “But for God’s sake, Cabot, do not make a fool of yourself taking Miss Darlington into dinner. You cannot always escort her, it is too marked.”

  “Nonsense,” Lord Cabot said. “She is the only lady willing to spend an entire supper talking of horses. Who else I should take in?”

  “I’ve a mind to set my sights on the charming Miss Farnsworth,” Lord Grayson said.

  Hayes did not answer, and instead took his leave. Grayson would not have the opportunity to secure Miss Farnsworth for supper. His own carriage would follow Mrs. Hemming’s carriage and he had a mind that it would be himself that would take Miss Farnsworth in.

  It was only a necessity. He did not like to think of Grayson telling the amusing story of Mr. Shine’s history, his reemergence as cousin to Lady Carradine, and now his sudden departure. It would only discompose Miss Farnsworth to hear it.

  *

  Mr. Shine had taken all he could from the house. There was much he left behind that would have fetched a fair price, but he did not have the means or the time to remove furniture and carpets and drapes. He’d packed up the smaller items—the silver, most of the candlesticks, and the crystals from the chandeliers. There were various curios of good quality and slight size. He’d taken a sharp knife and carefully cut away the fine material from the furniture—velvets, embroidered silks, and damasks. He knew what he could carry discreetly, and he knew, from long experience, what he could sell. He’d changed his coat to one he always carried with him—it was decent but not well-fitting, its cut was out of vogue and its cuffs were markedly frayed. It spoke of a middling sort of person who scraped together a living.

  Setting off from the house, he’d made his way to the Seven Dials and then chose one of those genially dark streets to follow. It had been no trouble to hunch over and take on the mien of gentle defeat that was so often to be found in that district. He’d grown up in those places and had been in and out of them as his fortunes waxed and waned. He knew how to be of the neighborhood and not arouse undue interest. Though, he was not wholly dependent on blending in, especially at night. Were some desperate fellow to attempt to overcome him, he would find a pistol between the eyes.

  It had been no particular trouble to find lodging, even at that late hour. An interesting creature named Meg, she of missing teeth, soiled clothes and reeking of sweat and the blue ruin, had been found lounging in a rickety chair outside of her charming domicile. She had been more than happy to rent him a room, though he must pay for this night, even though it was after three in the morning. Meg, being of generous spirit and wishing to close the deal, had thrown in the inducement of a cup of tea each morning. This allurement faded somewhat when it was explained that he was not to expect it strong on every day. Meg used the same ounce of tea for a week, so by Saturday things were watery, but on Sunday they darkened up again. She then wrung her hands and mentioned that sometimes it was dandelion tea, depending on what was on offer in the black market.

  Aside from the ghastly cup he would be delivered of each morning, the room was as he expected. A bare wood floor, a wobbly bedstead that he had no doubt was infested with fleas, a lone candle, and a small fireplace that sat cold. One might think there was no need of a fire in this season, but in these neighborhoods the buildings were so closely packed that precious little sunshine ever penetrated. The roofs and walls were so poorly built that there was an ever-present damp that lingered on a person like fog. Then, there was the smell of the place. Wood smoke went some way to tamping down the odors coming from the various buckets thrown out windows.

  He’d paid for a small fire to be built and pulled the lone chair to the small and dirty window. He sat himself down, not pleased with his circumstances but feeling out of immediate danger.

  He must think. He must develop a plan. Even after selling all he had taken from the house, he’d need more. What he’d fetched might have been enough to set himself up somewhere, had he been able to stay in England.

  That, he could not do. He had the distinct feeling that Ashworth would attempt to seek him out. He could not know it as certain, but he had learned in his life that when the warning bells went off in his mind, he was best served to listen to them.

  As had ever been his habit in a long life of uncertainty, he took stock. What did he have that might garner enough to lay low and then slip out, South America bound?

  Almost an hour of cogitating went by. A drudge had been in and lit the fire, the room had slowly warmed and dried out. Meg had gamely brought him a cup of tea, though it was Friday so there was not much to it.

  Very suddenly, he knew what he would do. It was the only course open to him and it had been lurking in his mind just waiting to be found. He’d always been certain that the overblown ideas of honor the high and mighty congratulated themselves upon could be made to work against them. He would find out if he was right. He must just carefully work out the details.

  He was not done with this life yet.

  Chapter Twelve

  Lily had experienced a flight of emotions in the past hour. She’d taken considerable care with her dress and had chosen a white silk with embroidered violets along the neckline and hem. Pips had given up her annoyance with her and arranged her hair into charming curls. Lily thought she must feel less embarrassed, less nervous, less whatever she was in contemplating seeing Lord Ashworth again. Their first meeting should have dispelled the discomfort, but instead she felt rather more on edge.

  Her carriage had been called for eight o’clock and arrived in good time. Lily had surreptitiously glanced down the street to see if Lord Ashworth would truly follow them to the Bergrams’ house. Perhaps he would have rethought and considered it an unnecessary precaution. Perhaps he would have determined that the lady who’d got them both into this circumstance could well enough make her own way there.

  He had not thought those things. His carriage had awaited them as he’d promised and had followed them carefully to their destination.

  The Bergrams’ ball, always well attended, afforded her some time to think as their carriage waited in the line that ran up the drive.

  Mostly, her thoughts drifted to the carriage behind her. He was there.

  He was so different now. No, that was not it. Her opinions were so different now. As she wended her way through her muddled ideas, she finally came upon the thing that most troubled her. The idea, the question, that had been sending bubbles through her insides all afternoon.

  Was his opinion of her different now?

  She did not know. He had followed their carriage. Was that a singular consideration, or only what he thought his duty as a gentleman?

  Her aunt had finally pulled her attention away from her roiling thoughts by way of an extensive and winding dissertation on how much of one’s life was inevitably spent sitting in a carriage.

  Now, they had alighted and made their way in. Lily was conscious of him behind her as she made her curtsy to Lady Bergram. She dared not turn around but followed her aunt inside.

  She handed over her cloak and took her card, noticing her aunt looking wistfully in the direction of what could only be the card room.

  “Do go on, Aunt,” Lily said. “You must hurry to secure yourself a good partner and there is no danger to us here. I see Penny Darlington making her way over, I shall not be left alone.”

  Mrs. Hemming appeared delighted, patted her hand, and made a determined foray into the crowd.

  Just as her aunt had departed, Miss Darlington reached her.

  “Dear Lily,” she said merrily, “you seem quite recovered from your adventure.”

  Lily stood stoc
k still. Did Penny know what had occurred at Lady Carradine’s? How could she know? If she knew, others must know.

  “My adventure?” Lily said softly.

  “In my phaeton, you goose.”

  Lily felt a wave of relief wash over her. She scolded herself for being such a nervous ninny. She smiled and said, “You are to know that I consider it one of the more interesting things I’ve done and think you fearless to have mastered such a skill.”

  “Nonsense,” Penny said. “Oh, here comes Lord Burke. Do you know him? He is a jolly fellow; I highly recommend him.”

  “I do not know the gentleman,” Lily said. And indeed, she had not yet met with Lord Burke, though Cassandra had mentioned him as a genial and stalwart gentleman.

  The lord in question approached and made a bow.

  “Lord Burke, may I present Miss Farnsworth,” Penny said.

  Lord Burke smiled. “Miss Farnsworth, she of the masterful piquet game?”

  “The very one,” Penny said, laughing.

  “Miss Darlington speaks highly of you, Miss Farnsworth. May I?” Lord Burke said, holding his hand out for her card.

  As Lily put her hand out to give it to him, another hand swiftly reached in front of Lord Burke’s and took the card from her fingertips.

  “Burke,” Lord Ashworth said, “I’m sure you do not mind.”

  “I am sure that I do,” Lord Burke said cheerfully, “but if you are in earnest.”

  As Lord Ashworth filled in his name, Lily felt a thrill. Certainly, this was not to do with protecting her. There was no danger inside the house and no need to dance with her. It must be his wish and not just a sense of duty.

  Lord Ashworth did not stay, and Lily had the idea that he was almost embarrassed by what he’d done. After he moved off, she handed Lord Burke the card. Lord Burke said, “Ah, he takes you into supper. I was certain the rumors going round that Ashworth was in a sulk over losing to you at cards could not hold any merit. He is a better man than that.”