Chapter 6

6

D erek Welkirk, Earl of Framlingwood, was in desperate need of a good night’s sleep. Make that a fortnight of good night’s sleeps. If memory served, he had not managed several hours of rest together since September. Then again, having someone denounce one of your mistresses as a murderess and then blackmailing you to keep that information private tended to make sleep elusive at best and damned near impossible at worst. Not to mention that even with access to five mistresses he’d not engaged in a decent bout of bedsport in months. Making him bone-tired and irritable as the devil.

“Are you listening, Framlingwood?” Atherton asked from his spot sprawled in one of Lady Camilla’s comfortable parlor chairs.

“To what?” Derek asked. “So far all you’ve done is complain about the weather. Forsythe and Colwyn appear to be conducting a secret conclave in the corner. And Dickie Jones and his young co-conspirator, George is it, seem to be bent on consuming every item on that tea table before anyone else has the chance. “Lady Camilla, does Carrington-Bowles not feed these children he and Charpentier have adopted?”

“Oy!” Dickie said loudly in spite of a mouth full of raspberry tart. “Leave off Mister Carrington-Bowles. He treats us like kings, he does.” George nodded in agreement rather than speak. For which Derek was grateful as the lad had managed to stuff three lemon biscuits into his mouth at once.

“That’s true,” Forsythe said as he and Colwyn, their resident Bow Street runner, joined Derek on the settee. “He feeds them as much food as Fat King George eats every day. No wonder Charpentier is still working at Livingston’s club. He has to in order to pay the food bills for these two. Not to mention the cost of cultivating raspberries all year round for the little urchins.” He waved a hand at Dickie and George which prompted Dickie to stick a raspberry stained tongue out at him.

“I cannot dun him for that,” Derek said. “I’m rather fond of the raspberries from Charpentier’s orangery. As are my mistresses.”

“Gentlemen, enough,” Lady Camilla said from the silk brocade chaise where she customarily held court. “We are not here for this.”

“Indeed.” Atherton sat up and straightened his disheveled attire. “We have much more important matters to discuss. Don’t we, Sythe?”

The barrister rolled his eyes. “Yes, we do. Matters like why you look as if you slept in those clothes and have apparently misplaced your valet and razor.”

“Slept in his dressing room last night,” Dickie offered with a grin. “And Lady Honoria ran him out of the house this morning because he didn’t apologize. Are you going to eat that biscuit, Georgie?”

“How the bloody hell do you know—”

“Language, Atherton,” Forsythe warned. “And how do you think he knows?” He and the other gentlemen looked at Lady Camilla, who made herself busy preparing a cup of tea.

“Did you apologize, Atherton?” she asked without looking up.

Derek turned his attention to the former cavalry officer, as did everyone else in the room.

“Apologize for what?” Colwyn asked.

“Told her that her feet was cold when he climbed into bed with her.” Dickie smiled sweetly.

“Can we get on with the problem at hand?’ Atherton asked. “Dear God, let this baby come soon,” he muttered under his breath. “Being next to her feet was like sleeping in a Highland loch.”

“What is the blackmailer’s latest demand?” Lady Camilla asked Derek.

“Another five thousand pounds.”

“Will you pay it?” Forsythe asked.

“Do I have a choice?” The money stung, but Derek’s main concern was the safety of the women still under his care—Lily and Margot. “Have you learned anything, Colwyn? Anything that might help us end this siege?”

“I recognized the blackmailer’s voice.”

Silence fell like an anvil into the room.

“You…what?” Derek rasped.

“The night of the masquerade debacle someone broke into Saida’s house,” Colwyn continued.

“What the devil? Is there anything else you’d like to tell me about the night you used my ladies as bait and apparently nearly got one or more of them killed?” Derek started to stand. Lady Camilla waved him back into his seat.

“Do sit down and stop interrupting him,” she ordered. “We do not have all day to discuss this. It is over and done with, and all is well. That is sufficient for the moment. Mister Colwyn, dear, do continue.”

Derek crossed his arms and slouched into his chair.

“Hamish and Saida took care of the situation, but the man managed to escape. However, her cockatoo heard the entire thing, everything the blackmailer said. She had him repeat the man’s words to me before she and Hamish left for Scotland.”

Atherton waved his hands like a drowning man. “The cockatoo? Repeated what the man said? How does that help?”

“The cockatoo mimicked the man’s words in the man’s voice. Saida and Hamish assured me of the bird’s accuracy. The thing is, I recognized the voice, at least enough to know I have heard that voice before.”

“Where?” Derek demanded.

“Bow Street. I have heard that voice at Bow Street. More than once. All I have to do is hear it there again and the mystery will be solved.”

“And in the meantime, I continue to be blackmailed and Margot and Lily are still in danger. Not to mention the ladies who have married and moved their husbands into the houses I gifted them.” Derek knew his friends were trying, but the situation seemed no better now than it was at the beginning. And he had an increasing sense of foreboding that time was running out.

“I assure you the married ladies’ husbands are more than capable of protecting them. I am working on finding a bodyguard for Miss Margot,” Lady Camilla assured him. “And Barker-Finch is safely ensconced in Miss Lily’s so all is well, Framlingwood. You worry needlessly.”

“I don’t know how safe Barker-Finch is,” Derek said. “Apparently, Lily tossed his entire wardrobe and his shaving case at him the first night alone.”

A healthy burst of laughter traveled around the room. Derek’s heart lightened a bit at the vision of his sweet-natured Lily going after the poor barrister.

“Miss Venable threw a shaving case at Mister Barker-Finch?” Lady Camilla shook her head. “She is such sweet young woman. I can scarcely credit the tale.”

“I have the story from an unimpeachable source,” Derek said. “Mrs. Collins told me herself that very evening.”

“Told you,” Dickie said with an air of manufactured innocence. The other occupants of the room, save for young George who was busy slurping a cup of tea, gave each other knowing looks.

Derek had said too much. He wasn’t used to having friends living in his pockets. Friends . He allowed his gaze to wander the room slowly. He despised the situation that necessitated asking for help, but somehow the blackmailer had brought these people back into his life. And to his surprise, their presence and efforts on his behalf brought him…comfort. Only one other person on earth did that for him.

“How is the fair Mrs. Collins?” Atherton asked. The arse.

“She is well and perhaps the most competent housekeeper in London,” Derek replied as he forced himself not to grit his teeth.

“She would have to be handling you all these years.” Colwyn and Atherton exchanged a grin.

“I meant handling your mistress situation, of course,” the Bow Street man amended. “Is the next money delivery to be at the Prospect of Whitby again?”

Derek fished the latest blackmail missive from inside his waistcoat pocket. “No, it is to be—”

“The Bunch of Grapes,” Dickie announced, perched on the chaise longue next to Lady Camilla. “The man in black was there last night chatting up Maggie Turpin, one of the wenches who works there.”

“How the devil did he—”

“Don’t ask, Framlingwood,” Forsythe said. “You’re safer not knowing.”

Colwyn snatched the note from Derek and studied the message carefully. “I’ll deliver the money.”

“Not without me,” Derek said. “I’m weary of being the last to know what is afoot in this misadventure.”

“Best take him along, Bow Street. Word is your man has hired a few of the Narrow Street brawlers to take you down. Nasty cove, the man in black. He knows who you are and that the earl here is right handy with his fives.” Dickie gave Derek a nod of respect, which shouldn’t have pleased him, but damned if it didn’t do just that.

“Framlingwood? Handy with his fives?” Atherton looked Derek up and down. “Never would have pegged you as a boxer.”

“Needs must, Atherton,” Derek replied. “You missed a proper melee that night.”

“So it would seem. Which means count me in for the Grapes. But don’t tell my wife.” Atherton gave Lady Camilla a pointed look to which she raised her hands in surrender.

“Someone needs to let Barker-Finch know,” Forsythe suggested. “This blackmailer is too clever by half. He may have let it about that he intends to attack Framlingwood and then take the opportunity to stop by Miss Venable’s. The Rutherfords need to know as well.”

“Already done,” Dickie said as he stuffed a few macarons into his jacket pocket and picked up his cap. “Come on, Georgie. We’re for Mister Carrington-Bowles’s dispensary in the Dials this afternoon.” He and Georgie bowed to Lady Camilla as properly as any ton gentlemen and headed for the parlor doors.

“Home before dark,” Lady Camilla said.

“And stay away from the Grapes,” Atherton warned. “That’s an order.”

“Aye, your ladyship. As you say, Cap’n.”

Once the doors closed behind the boys Derek turned to Forsythe. “I want Dickie out of this. I won’t be responsible for the death of child. You have a house in the country, my lady. Send him there if you have tie him up in a sack to do so.”

“Dickie can take care of himself better than any of us,” Atherton said. “Don’t concern yourself with him.”

“Bollocks!” Derek pushed out of his chair and stepped toward the cavalry officer. Forsythe stood and held Derek in place by the arm.

“You’ve let the lad’s braggadocio and ability to gather information better than our Bow Stree friend her convince you he is immune to the evils in this world ready to make him pay for his survival thus far with his life. Unlike you, I am not fooled. He is a child. And the world in which we live lies in wait to dine on the bones of women and children.” Derek’s chest burned for lack of air. He wanted nothing more than to be anywhere else in this moment.

“I…” Atherton stared at him, his attitude one of abject helplessness.

Forsythe patted Derek’s shoulder, released his arm, and returned to his chair.

Under the sympathetic regard of everyone in the room, he bowed to Lady Camilla and prepared to take his leave. “The money is to be delivered in two days’ time. Make your arrangements and let me know the plan. I’ll bring the money.” He drew in a long, painful breath. “I knew a young woman who grew up in the Dials who could take care of herself. She ended up in the Thames with her throat slit. You made Dickie my concern when you dragged him into this. Put a stop to his participation, or I will go to Carrington-Bowles, who I daresay has no idea the extent of the boy’s involvement.”

As one, they avoided his gaze. He slammed out of the parlor and started down the stairs. By the time he reached the foyer, the front door was open and his carriage awaited him.

“No more,” he muttered, as his coachman ordered the horses to walk on. “Not one more.” His hands shook and his skin went cold. He wanted this over. He could not breathe, had not truly been able to breathe since the first attack on Adrienne in September. He needed…Derek tapped on the roof of the carriage.

“Grosvenor Street,” he ordered. “Deliver me to the mews.”

“Yes, my lord.”

Only one person could help him make sense of the tangle his mind had become.