5. A Footman and a Hat

Back at Baron Kravets' townhouse

Elias cursed under his breath as he rushed up to the Kravets' town coach. "Back to Weatherstone Manor," he called up to Renner. "And hurry."

The startled driver, who looked to be no older than seventeen, nodded. "Yes, sir."

Before Elias had a chance to shut the coach door and be seated, the equipage jerked into motion. He cursed again as he settled into the shabby leather squabs, his nose wrinkling when he smelled the odors of cheroot smoke and unwashed bodies. For at least the tenth time that evening, he regretted having agreed to be part of Abraham Kravet's plan to avenge his daughter's honor.

Like most who read the gossip found in the pages of The Tattler, Kravets assumed the rake referred to as Lord JW was John "Jack" Kirkpatrick, Earl of Wilmington.

After reading the latest issue, which included an article describing a scandalous incident that took place during a musicale at Worthington House, Kravets was convinced his daughter, Honoria, had been ruined by one Lord JW. He had been sure there could be no other young lady matching the article's description but her.

As a means to see the earl was held responsible for his rakish behavior, Kravets set about planning his revenge—drug and abduct the man from an early Season entertainment, haul him to Kravets' townhouse, wake him up with a right cross to his jaw, and inform him he was to marry Honoria by special license the following day.

Kravets still hadn't decided if her dowry would be paid or not.

Honoria had yet to speak to her father. When he confronted her on the matter, she immediately turned into a watering pot and claimed she didn't know the man who ravished her in an alcove at Worthington House. She didn't even deny the event had occurred.

Her mother and Kravets' baroness, Lady Margaret Kravets, was doing her best to claim that the young lady described in the news-sheet could not possibly be her daughter since Honoria had been with her at the time of the so-called ruination and that they had not even been in attendance at the musicale. "We weren't there because we weren't invited," she told her husband.

As for those who had claimed to have seen the baroness at the musicale, she would tell them that Honoria wasn't with her that evening but had stayed home complaining of a megrim.

Kravets wasn't convinced.

Sure Honoria was protecting the identity of her lover, he had called upon his new friend and business partner Elias Turnbridge to help with his plan.

Not expecting the baron to concoct such an elaborate scheme involving a drugging and an abduction, Elias had agreed to go along with whatever Kravets planned. He only meant to appease the man because they were business partners. He feared the baron might pull out of funding his latest venture and force him to have to line up another investor.

Now Elias wished he had left town with the excuse that he had business in the country. Or, better yet, another country.

When the Kravets coach stuttered to a halt down the street from Weatherstone Manor, Elias was relieved to see a number of coaches still lined up along Park Lane. Stepping out of the equipage, he paused to examine the baron's coat of arms on the door.

At first glance, he thought it looked like any other coat of arms. It was painted in gold. There was a shield. There were supporters. There was a crest. And across the bottom was a motto in Latin on an open-scroll banner.

He studied the details more closely before making his way to the next parked coach. He nearly stopped when he saw that the crest on its door had the motto at the top. The supporters were a pair of dragons.

When he passed the next coach, he lingered for a moment, pretending to adjust his cravat in the reflection from the coach window. That coat of arms had dogs as supporters and the motto was emblazoned at the bottom.

Coming upon the lanterns leading to the front door of Weatherstone Manor, Elias nearly bumped into a man who had just left the residence.

"Pardon, sir," the younger man said, the style of his caped coat and top hat that of a driver. He seemed to stutter-step and do a double-take before continuing on his way to a coach parked farther down Park Lane.

Curious at the driver's odd behavior, Elias lifted a hand to remove his hat and was reminded that he wore no hat.

No wonder the driver had given him such an odd look!

Elias hurried into the house and immediately came to a halt when he recognized his hat among the half-dozen a footman was rearranging on a shelf. When another footman turned from giving a coat to a departing guest, he said, "Yes, sir?"

"I'm here to collect my hat," Elias said.

"Of course, sir. Must have been some game going on in the card parlor this evening."

Relieved the footman hadn't seen him come in by way of the front door, Elias merely shrugged. "No more than usual, I suppose," he replied. "Tell me... have there been any reports of a gentleman being found in the wrong coach this evening?"

The footman blinked. "Sir?"

"Any... guests... making a fuss out front?" Elias hedged.

Pulling his head back so his chin doubled, the rather tall servant seemed to think on it a moment before he glanced about and then leaned in closer. "A young lady was caught being kissed by that Lord JW behind a hedgerow in the gardens out back," he hoarsely whispered. "But I haven't heard about anything amiss out front," he added in a quiet voice.

Elias gave a start. "Lord JW?" he repeated in a whisper. "When... when was this?"

"Oh, it's been hours ago, sir. Probably around midnight, if not 'afore." His eyes suddenly widened. "It was definitely 'afore midnight. Supper hadn't yet been served." The servant grinned, apparently pleased with his powers of deduction.

Elias furrowed his brows. Given the amount of sleeping powder he had dumped into Lord Wilmington's punch, he was sure the man could not have awakened, made his way out of a coach and into the house, descended the stairs to the ballroom, flirted with a young lady, and escorted her to the Weatherstone gardens for a tryst—despite his reputation as a rake.

Besides, Elias had been standing near the open French doors to the garden for nearly an hour after he put Wilmington into the coach. With the number of guests in the ballroom—the Weatherstone ball was always a crush—he needed the fresh air. Surely he would have seen Wilmington if the earl had exited by way of the French doors.

"You mentioned you were here to claim your hat, sir?" the footman prompted.

Pulled from his reverie, Elias nodded. "That one right there on the end," he said, nodding to his beaver.

The footman blinked again. "Oy. If you had come any sooner, it wouldn't have been here for you, sir."

Elias frowned. "Whatever do you mean?"

Aware he might be speaking ill of one of his fellow footmen, the servant lowered his voice and said, "It was mistakenly given to another gentleman, sir, but it's been returned and exchanged for the correct one." He lifted the hat between two sets of fingers and held it out to Elias. "It doesn't appear to have suffered, sir. You'll want to check the label just to be sure it is yours."

Turning the hat over, Elias confirmed it was the beaver he had purchased in New Bond Street only the week before. "When… when was it returned?" he asked. "And by whom?"

The footman had already begun searching for another guest's coat but said, "Oh, only a moment ago, sir. By a driver. Don't know his name, though."

Elias inhaled sharply. "Do you know whose driver?"

Appearing to think on it for a moment, the footman shook his head. "Can't say as I've ever seen 'im 'afore."

Tossing the footman a coin, Elias rushed out of the house in search of the driver he had passed on his way into the house.