Chapter Seventeen

T he Rose Room scarcely belonged to the rest of the house. It was tucked away in the south wing. Far away. It was where they stashed great aunts who came visiting, the ones who complained of the noise of London and the hullabaloo in the Taverstons’ home. The difference, Jasper thought bitterly, was the great aunts asked for the isolation. They weren’t shunted from the family’s view.

Vanessa made no comment about the chamber, its fussy, outdated décor, its persistent and faint odor of lavender water, merely murmuring, “This will do comfortably,” as though speaking to an invisible maid.

“Vanessa, I’m sorry. If I had known Mother would behave so badly, I never would have brought you here.” He had never seen his mother treat anyone with such a lack of courtesy. It wasn’t like her.

“It is no matter.”

The hurt in her eyes haunted him. The resignation.

“It matters to me,” he said. “ You matter to me. She will have to learn to accept that.” Vanessa made a dismissive noise, but Jasper was bothered by something else. “And Crispin! That was even more uncharacteristic than Mother’s rudeness. He never refers to his ailment. Never. And bites off the head of anyone else who dares do so.”

“He has an ailment?”

“Well, yes.” This made him uncomfortable. Crispin guarded his privacy so jealously. But then, Crispin had brought it up first. “Since childhood. A recurring…internal complaint. That’s why he needed the cordial your husband gave him.”

“A cordial? How preposterous. I can’t imagine why he said that. Where on earth would Henry obtain such a thing? Or ingredients to make one? From salt pork and stale bread? I have no idea what Crispin was talking about.”

He stared. Unable to fathom…not that Crispin would lie; he was not averse to lying, but that he had broken his own taboo to distract, possibly even to shame, their mother. In order to shield Vanessa. And now Jasper was very uncomfortable.

Could Crispin care for Vanessa? She had been adamant there was nothing between them, but what if she wasn’t aware of how he felt?

He felt a sinking in the pit of his gut. He would never have pursued her if he’d known. Yet should he have known? Had some part of him known?

He’d told Crispin not to disappear while he showed Vanessa to the Rose Room. To wait because he needed to talk to him. It seemed they had more to discuss than he’d thought. The devil. There wasn’t time for this. Not today.

Crispin had answered flippantly: Hurry up then . Flippantly because Father was still standing there. But Jasper was not supposed to take it lightly. He knew that much.

“Vanessa, I have to go. I have to talk to Crispin before Hazard’s party tonight.”

“He’s going too?”

“I assume so.”

He saw Vanessa let out a little breath. It eased her concern to hear that Crispin was also involved. That stung. As though she didn’t even trust Jasper to carry off a snub without his brother’s help. Well, but of course she trusted Crispin more. He’d rescued her from the French horde.

He gave her a brief kiss on the temple. Anything more would feel like a sacrilege in this house. Then he left her. And practically kicked himself the whole way down the stairs. He shouldn’t have brought her here.

Crispin and Father were still in the small parlor. If he heard right, they were discussing horses. Crispin should have used the time to change his clothes. A lieutenant’s uniform would have been acceptable, but he was not in uniform. His simple dark jacket and fawn pantaloons might have passed muster for a typical night on the town, but not for a party where the Prince Regent was expected. And the black greatcoat he had slung over his shoulders was dirty.

“No, it’s selfish, perhaps, but I’m leaving Mercury safe here,” Crispin said. “But I do appreciate—”

“Nonsense. You need more than one decent mount if you are riding all over creation. Take Jasper with you.”

“I intended—”

“Where are you taking me?” he asked, entering the room. “I hope not Spain.”

“Tattersalls,” Father said. “Crispin had Firebrand shot out from beneath him. He needs a new mount.”

“Oh, Crispin. I’m sorry.” Jasper turned to his brother. He’d had that horse for five years. It was a damn fine animal.

Crispin shrugged. “It was a horse. Are you ready? Kissed the lady goodbye and all?”

He put his hand on Crispin’s shoulder and shoved. “Let’s just go.”

They left the earl and walked without speaking until they were outside. Then Crispin said, “I doubt I’ll have time to look, but if you would find me something in the general way of Firebrand, and have him shipped over on the next transport, I would appreciate it. Father said he’d foot the bill.”

“The army doesn’t provide horses?”

“Nags, Jasper. And few enough of those.” He shook his head with disgust. “The poor creatures die in droves.” Then he set off, his long legs making quick work of the muddy cobbles. They were heading toward Brooks’s and would be too early at this pace. Jasper looked his brother up and down. He really wished Crispin had changed his clothes. Well, that was not worth the argument when they had others.

“Apparently,” he ventured, matching his brother stride for stride, “the army doesn’t supply its surgeons with the means to make cordials, either.”

Crispin scowled. “I could not stand there and listen to that. Mother was awful!”

“She was. She truly was. I never would have brought Vanessa to the house if I imagined—”

“You were right to bring her.” Crispin was emphatic. “I was relieved to see you thought to do so.”

“But you can’t really think there’s any danger. To Vanessa? She was angry, you should know, that I insisted she—”

“You didn’t.” Crispin stopped dead. “Tell me you didn’t say anything to her.”

“Of course not. What do you take me for? She only knows about Hazard’s soiree. That I intend to make a fool of Hilyer.”

“Good.” He breathed out sharply. “Good.”

“She mocked me for the grand gesture.” He didn’t know why he was telling his brother this. Maybe to see his reaction. Maybe to see how Crispin spoke of her.

Crispin’s head tilted. “Mocked you?”

“Yes, well.” He plunged ahead. “Essentially, she said I was no hero. Snobbery is not as impressive a weapon as I think it to be.”

Crispin stared a moment. Then he put a hand on Jasper’s shoulder, his face softening into something approaching brotherly commiseration. He could not carry it off. Crispin broke, doubling over with laughter, clutching his knees and howling.

Jasper took a step back and glanced around nervously. They were on the street in front of their house, for pity’s sake.

“Crispin,” he hissed. “People will think you are ape-drunk. Stand up!”

After a few moments, Crispin straightened, still shaking. “She is a gem, Jasp. I really don’t think you deserve her.”

Did Crispin mean that?

“Did I step on your toes?”

“Did you what?” he asked, pressing a hand into his side as his laughter subsided.

“Step. On. Your. Toes.”

Crispin’s breath hitched as understanding dawned. Then he scowled. “Christ. What do you take me for? Her husband was not two days dead when I packed her onto that transport.”

Oh.

“I didn’t know. Not the timing. She doesn’t…she doesn’t talk about those last days. How Henry died.”

“Have you asked? Or do you expect her to just blurt it out?”

“I’m not insensitive, Crispin. She loved him. I don’t pry. I just don’t understand how you involved yourself. You must have sought her out. That could not have been part of your remit.”

“Walk, Jasper. This way.” Crispin took off again. Down a cross street. “Yes, I sought her out. Do you know what we had been doing? Our grand army? We weren’t simply retreating. It was a goddamned rout. Sir Moore, God rest him, was in command because the idiots at home recalled Wellesley to chew him out over what was not his fault. So Boney came himself to press the advantage. We damn near lost the war right there.”

Jasper gulped. The public version was that it had been a tight spot, but they had prevailed.

Crispin said, “The retreat was a headlong flight. We lost far too many soldiers. My regiment, fortunately, kept its discipline.” His voice dropped and he murmured, “God, they are good men, Jasper.”

Jasper imagined if they kept their discipline, it had more to do with Crispin than with them.

“We had to get across difficult terrain. We were close to Corunna when we met with an ambush.” Crispin kept stomping ahead. Jasper, a little more careful of his own attire, threaded more cautiously alongside. “We fought our way out. But I lost—” He sucked in a breath. His words came out clipped. “Six men. Five fast. But Wardrip died slowly. At my feet. I could do nothing for him. Bayoneted. His guts were splayed over my boots. His last words were, Lieutenant, take care of her .”

Crispin halted. He spat something into the mud.

Then he gave Jasper a cold look. “You did not step…on…my…toes.”

No. He’d done worse. He couldn’t think what to say. But finally managed, “I will take care of her.”

“You had better.”

Crispin started walking again and Jasper ploughed on to keep up. Then Crispin turned left again, doubling back, heading away from Brooks’s, paralleling Grosvenor.

“Don’t say anything to her,” Crispin said quietly. “I told her he died instantaneously. She doesn’t need to know…”

“Of course not. Crispin, where are we going?”

“I am eventually going in the general direction of the Thames. You should go to Brooks’s. You said you needed to talk to me? Make it quick.”

“I-I will press him tonight. If you are ready for—”

“Unless you keep delaying me.”

“Don’t be such an arse, Crispin. You may be adept at spying—”

“I’m not a spy,” he said derisively. “Must you always be so melodramatic?”

“What do you call it?”

“I’m a field officer.” He gave an off-handed shrug. “Sometimes one or the other of my superiors has a question. Usually, it’s something they could find out for themselves if they tried. But I answered one too many questions for them and now they dump them all on me.”

“But you’re not a spy? I don’t need to worry you’ll be executed without trial?”

“I’m not putting on false mustaches and slipping behind enemy lines.” Crispin smiled sourly. “No. I will not be shot except in the usual way.”

With that fear out of the way, Jasper confessed. “I’m concerned I will err and your plans for Hilyer will go awry. Your instructions were not at all detailed.”

“Because flexibility may be required. You can adapt.”

“Crispin! I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“I cannot give you details. You aren’t supposed to know any of this.”

“I don’t need to know details. I need to know…how you think.”

Crispin glanced across his shoulder. His smirk was telling.

“Mock me another day, Crispin. I cannot convincingly imply knowledge I do not have if I cannot fathom how I might have obtained it.”

Crispin frowned. “That actually makes sense.”

“Can you at least tell me how you think where to look?”

They walked in silence. Jasper watched Crispin’s mind churn. Then his brother tapped his arm and they stopped again, by a garden wall. Crispin hauled himself up a few inches to look over it, then lowered his feet back to the ground. He leaned against the wall.

“Bare bones, Jasper.”

“All right.”

“Rum comes from sugar cane. Men with property in the West Indies might be suspect. But how would that work? Poor quality sugar yields watery rum? Unlikely. So let’s look at the distilleries. Most are in the Americas. We aren’t importing much from them currently. That leaves Australia. But Australia is too far away. I could hardly go there and snoop in their barrels.”

“God, Crispin.” Haphazard guesswork and expediency? Maybe he didn’t want to know how Crispin’s mind worked.

“Ah, but barrels!” Crispin lifted a finger in the air. “I had barrels. Barrels full of water. And barrels are marked with a distinctive cooperage signature.”

“Are they?”

Crispin nodded. “They are.”

“Aren’t they also stamped with the name of the distillers?”

“Don’t make this too easy, Jasper. Of course, they are.”

“Well, then?”

“I didn’t think the distillers would be stupid enough to sell water for rum directly to the king’s procurer. The barrels would be switched somewhere between the distillery and the Peninsula.”

“Oh.” Jasper tried on his own. “But coopers are not contracted to sell liquor.”

“No. It gets complicated. Suffice it to say, the rum is purchased. It’s shipped here. Offloaded. Stored in a warehouse. Reloaded. Then shipped out. The way I think, Jasp, is to say wouldn’t it make the most sense to switch barrels in the warehouse? And then figure out how it might be done.”

“And by whom?”

Crispin nodded.

Jasper said, “You wrote I should hint at Hilyer’s Irish concerns.”

“There is a cooperage in Dublin. Gentlemen do not engage in commercial enterprise, but we all know investments come in through backdoors.” Crispin folded his hands. “Hilyer owns a large share of that cooperage. Barrels are not only sold to distillers. And distillers’ stamps are not difficult to forge.”

“Crispin, your evidence sounds shaky.”

“It is no evidence at all,” he conceded, undisturbed. “Nevertheless, I know I am correct. Too many pieces fit. But he is a peer. And pieces aren’t enough. So we will catch him another way.”

“Running to France with supposed military secrets?”

“Yes.” Then Crispin grinned. “So in a way, this all depends on you. Sad that you cannot boast of your heroics to Vanessa.”

While Jasper glared, Crispin pulled his watch from his vest and glanced at it. Then his grin fell away.

“Damn.” He shoved the watch back. “Give my regards to Haz.”

Then he took off at a run.