Mary Nichols - Regency High Society Vol 5 - The Disgraced Marchioness / The Reluctant Escort / The Outrageous Debutante / A Damnable Rogue

‘I like the coat—very Weston—and the sartorial elegance of the cravat is amazing for someone wedded to the undeveloped backwoods and social equalities of the New World. A pink of the ton, no less.’ Nicholas smiled in friendly mockery. ‘But that’s not important! I would have come last night—this morning…it was only a few hours ago—but I presumed you would be asleep.’

‘I was.’ Their eyes met in the mirror. ‘And don’t sneer too loudly, little brother. New York may not yet be a centre of sartorial elegance as you put it, but neither it is the backwoods of anywhere. I can still cut a pretty figure.’

‘So I see. And do the ladies of New York appreciate this jewel in their midst?’

‘Rosalind has no complaints.’

‘Ah. Rosalind. Is she a serious matter or in the form of entertainment?’ There was more than a casual question in the voice that caused Henry to glance across from his task.

‘None of your business, Nick.’ Henry took a final glance at his reflection.

‘Of course not.’ He shrugged and grinned with easy acceptance of the rebuff from his brother. They knew each other very well. ‘I only wondered if you had marriage in mind—to set up your own dynasty to inherit the vast fortune you are intent on making.’

‘You will be the first to know when I do,’ was the only dry comment he received in reply. ‘Do I presume from your good humour that your efforts in the dens of iniquity paid off?’

‘More than you could ever guess.’ Nick settled himself more comfortably, one leg hooked over the arm of the chair, to regale his brother with the details. ‘I managed to run him to ground. Our sly fox is a frequenter of White’s, would you believe. And also the new establishment in Pall Mall—Whittaker’s, I think. The place where the major-domo looks you up and down as if you might be up to no good and about to steal the silver.’

‘So.’ Henry anchored his cravat with a sapphire pin, smiling down at his brother’s face, flushed with triumph. ‘We have tracked him to earth.’ His smile was not pleasant as he thought of the effect on Nell over the past weeks of fraudulent scheming. ‘So what has our friend been doing recently?’

‘He is not a frequent visitor to the clubs, but then puts in an appearance for a few nights in one week—as you would expect—when he escapes from his duties. He plays deep. Vingt-etun is his poison. It does not need much skill—just a steady nerve, and our friend, it would seem, has neither. So he is in debt, I gather, to Spalding to the tune of 2,000 guineas. And perhaps to Robert Mallory—you remember him? You once bought a hunter from him—but I am not certain. But he owes something near to 5,000 guineas all told.’

‘And where would he find money like that to pay off the debt?’

‘Exactly. Shall I tell you more? I had a very busy night.’

‘Please do.’ Henry’s eyes gleamed at the prospect of progress at last.

‘It gets better. When I mentioned the name to Kingstone, he was an amazing source of information. It cost me a bottle of brandy, but it was well worth it. There was a scandal recently. We did not hear of it because I was at Burford and you were in New York. It involved a new young actress called Elizabeth Weldon. She was taken up by an admirer and had a child. Both actress and child were found dead in her lodging, their cause of death uncertain. Rumour connected our quarry’s name with the girl, but there was no proof and his status would speak against it so the case was not pursued. But even so, Kingstone tells me that he is not liked. Hers was not the only name he has been linked with. It would seem that his appetite for pretty young girls is…shall we say, extreme.’

‘Better and better.’ Hal thought for a moment, toying with a silver-backed hairbrush. ‘What you say does not surprise me. Aunt Beatrice hinted as much. He has a very attractive young housekeeper, I remember, with a pronounced invitation in her smile. Our esteemed aunt would definitely not approve.’

‘Yes. Well, it would fit with the rest of the picture. And I only had to spend one night to get the information! Oh, and by the by, he drinks—to excess. Another reason for his being a poor gambler. Kingstone says that he has been asked to leave more than one club. His behaviour must have been vulgar indeed.’

‘I am indebted to you, Nick.’ Henry put down the brush and shrugged into the dark superfine coat which had attracted Nick’s admiration. ‘I think another visit to Whitchurch is called for. Tedious, but it will be worth it. Do you care to join me? This time Eleanor will be remaining in London, if I have to lock her in her room.’

‘I will go to Whitchurch with you willingly. But restrain Eleanor? I will not volunteer to help—on your own head be it. Besides, she would forgive you quicker than she would forgive me.’ Nick watched his brother closely, to see his response.

‘I doubt it. The lady has not hidden the fact that she has a low opinion of both my involvement and my motives in staying to unravel this unholy mess!’

‘Then you should not doubt it! The problem is, Hal, that you do not see what is under your nose where Nell is concerned. I thought you did not like each other at first. I admit I was wrong. Totally wrong. I am still not quite sure what drives both of you—or perhaps I am. In fact, I am convinced! But I know that you would not thank me for my opinions or advice.’ With which set of blindingly enigmatic statements, Nicholas rose to his feet and made to depart.

Then Marcle knocked at the door and entered with a silver salver bearing a note.

‘From Lady Beatrice, my lord.’

Henry sighed and frowned. ‘Now what.’

He broke the seal, unfolded the single page and read the brief note of a few lines. And then re-read it.

‘Well?’

He passed it on to his brother. ‘I think that we have just discovered our pot of gold.’

My dear Henry,

I remember the name. It came to me at some inconvenient hour in the dead of night when I could not sleep, as is ever the case. Perhaps it came from seeing the girl and speaking with her at your evening on Saturday. Her name is—or certainly was—Octavia Broughton.

I hope this information is to your advantage. I would hate to see the title fall into the wrong hands.

Your loving aunt,

Beatrice

‘God Bless you, Beatrice!’ Henry took back the note and stowed it carefully in his pocket.

‘And the Devil take the Reverend Julius Broughton, Octavia’s loving and expensive brother!’ Nick added with some venom. ‘When do we set out for Whitchurch?’

After Nicholas’s departure, Lord Henry added a gold watch to his waistcoat and a signet ring to his hand, made to pick up gloves and hat, then simply stopped, standing to rub his hands over his face in frustration. Nicholas knew. It had become impossible to disguise it. He had tried not to look at Nell. To touch her. To keep his distance when in the public eye. He had hoped, fought hard to hold his feelings in check. Not well enough, it seemed. Nick knew him too well. At least he could rely on his brother to be discreet. They both knew that they could not afford one whiff of scandal. If any word of an association between Lord Henry Faringdon and the newly widowed Marchioness of Burford got out to become the latest on dit, they would be all but destroyed. The censure of the haut ton would be damning indeed, for which he would never forgive himself. So he must guard his actions in future. There must be not the smallest hint of love or desire or need. He gritted his teeth. Nothing beyond brotherly affection and concern. But it was sometimes impossible when Eleanor looked so lost and weighed down by uncontrollable events. Or when she sparkled with courage and determination to fight back against the odds. Or when she smiled at him, her eyes glowing and her lips curving in just that way she had. Lord Henry groaned. In fact, it was simply impossible.