Chapter 17

CHAPTER 17

I t was always difficult being left behind, but Patience was well aware she could not jaunt off to London on her own and visit a gentlemen's club. A dangerous, depraved one at that. It did not stop her from wondering what they were doing, and if they were any closer to finding out who the leader of the thieves was. By all accounts, it was someone very powerful and well-connected, else this elite unit would not have been called in.

It was hard not to be excited and worried at the same time. However, before, Patience had not been concerned that one of them would be executed for standing in this person's way. She knew she would not rest easy until they were returned safely. How long would that be?

Patience stared at the canopy and realized it was late in the morning. It had been hours before she had finally fallen asleep, having tossed and turned worrying about whether Major Stuart and Manners had met with a bad end at that awful club.

"Xander!" She shot up out of bed and realized he wasn't there. She must have slept through someone else letting him out, bless them. Quickly, she dressed without calling for a maid and hurried downstairs. Everyone else was breakfasting by the sounds of laughter coming from the dining room.

Xander was not there, not that she expected him to be. Likely, Peter had walked him and kept him out in the yard so she could sleep.

"Good morning," she called as she went to the table and was promptly served her usual cup of coffee with cream and sugar.

"It is not like you to sleep so late, Patience," Grace remarked with concern.

"I did not sleep well," she mumbled. Everyone appeared to be down except for Rotham and Hope and Westwood and Faith.

"Worried about the gentlemen?" her sister asked knowingly.

Of course, Grace would be worried, too.

"Hopefully, we will hear something soon." She reached over and squeezed Grace's hand with more reassurance than she felt.

"Who wants to go for a ride this morning?" Mr. Cunningham asked. "One last, long ride before we leave for London the day after."

Patience looked at Joy, whose mulish expression told her what she thought of them leaving. Mr. Cunningham had become her bosom beau, and though they often fought like siblings, she was never as happy as when he was around.

"I think a ride would be good for all of us to keep us occupied," Montford stated. Patience was surprised anyone else might be as concerned as she.

"Perhaps a ride would be a good diversion." Miss Cunningham agreed.

Patience was the first downstairs after changing into riding gear, so she went to look for Xander to say good morning. However, when she found him, she could not have been more surprised. He was in the stall with Freddy and her kittens, snuggled up amongst them as if he were one of the family. She stood there, mouth gaping. Xander looked up at her and thumped his tail proudly, but did not move from his spot where one of the kittens was nuzzled against him.

"Well, I'll be," she whispered. Perhaps he would not be hers to keep, after all. It's saddened her a little, but Xander had been a gift from Mr. Cunningham to Joy, after all. Maybe she could have a pup from the next litter. She reached down and scratched his ears then let him be.

When she left the barn, everyone had gathered at the stables, and the grooms were leading out the horses.

"Are you certain you have to leave?" Grace was asking Miss Cunningham.

"Monty and Freddy think it's best to leave the new parents to themselves for a while. Why do you all not come to London with us?"

"I do not think the Dowager would wish to leave the baby."

"Then I am certain you could stay with us," Vivienne offered. "I know my mother would not mind. It is not so grand as Westwood House, but we have room, nonetheless."

"I will speak to Joy and Patience about it."

Patience had heard. "I was already planning on joining Hope there. I'm certain she would not mind all of us going."

Joy had heard and whipped her head around and was listening intently. She did not look pleased, but by what, Patience couldn't say. She would speak to her later, but she knew Joy vastly preferred the country.

Joy quickly mounted and took off, which was a bad habit she had when she was not happy or defiant. It was what had led to her accident the previous summer.

Mr. Cunningham practically leapt onto his own mount and was giving chase. Patience could only smile at his protectiveness.

No one else in the party seemed overly bothered and let the two go before mounting at their own leisure and riding off in the same direction.

As Montford and Vivienne paired off with Grace and began chatting, Patience followed along behind, which perfectly suited her mood. She wanted to help figure out this mystery, and chatting idly would not leave her time to think.

So what were they missing? Something was nagging at her that she could not put a finger on. Were all of the situations the men investigated like this?

It was as though they had reached a dead end, literally with Rupert now being killed. Hopefully, the men would find some clue in London before anyone else was hurt.

As they approached a hedge, she returned her attention to the jump, which her horse handled beautifully. However, something spooked Midnight at the last moment and while she cleared the fence, she shied on the way down, throwing Patience to the side.

As she lay on her back, the wind knocked out of her, she tested all of her limbs, and everything was in working order. Slowly, she regained her breath, while watching the clouds move across the sky. Midnight nudged at her in apology, and Patience was relieved to see the horse was unharmed.

How long would it be until the others realized she was not with them? She would catch up in a few minutes once her body stopped smarting.

A rustling in the hedge reminded her that Midnight had spooked and she turned to see a figure running away. That spurred her to her feet and she found the strength to pull herself up and look around for who she'd seen. She ran towards the hedge, finding a small opening she could crawl beneath. Looking around, it seemed as though he had headed into the woods. She took off running, but quickly lost any sight or trace of him. She cursed her frustration before heading back to where Midnight was lazily grazing beyond the hedge.

Boosting herself into the saddle ungracefully, she hurried to catch up with the others. A proper adventuress would have given chase to see who'd been watching her, but with a murderer out there, she did not care to be the next victim.

After the ride, they changed and met in the drawing room where the dowagers and the aunts were about to take tea. Patience was still shaking from her incident, but did not tell the others what had happened yet.

Faith and Westwood entered the room, and all of the gentlemen promptly stood.

"Are you certain you should be down, my dear?" the younger dowager asked.

"Oh, yes. If I stay abed any longer, I shall go mad."

Faith had never been one to lay about, and Patience did not think she would be capable either.

"Do you think we should call on the Fagges today?" the Dowager asked Westwood.

"In fact, I was planning to go now. Out of both condolence and as magistrate. I need to question Sir Horace if he has composed himself enough to talk now."

"I was afraid you would say that."

"You need not go."

"Well, one of us should go with you, and Faith should not be making calls yet," his mother explained.

"I can go," Patience offered.

The surprise on the Dowager's face was quickly changed into relief. As much as Patience did not wish to go, she felt she might learn something to help solve the mystery.

"Are you certain, my dear? I know I should probably go, but I never could abide Agatha Fagge, and she will be more unbearable than usual if yesterday's display is anything to measure by."

"If she is not prostrate in bed, she will be castaway on the chaise with her smelling salts being wafted beneath her nose," Aunt Flora added.

"There is no need to be cruel. She did lose her son," the elder dowager scolded.

"If the truth is cruel…" Aunt Flora held up her hands.

"I will call for the curricle," Westwood said to Patience as he took a ginger biscuit and popped it in his mouth.

"I am as ready as I will ever be."

They were soon on their way, and Patience decided to tell Westwood what had happened earlier.

"Dominic," she began. "When we were out riding earlier, something spooked my horse."

"Did you see what it was?" he asked with appropriate concern. "You are unharmed?"

"We are both unharmed, thankfully. It only knocked the wind out of me for a moment. As for what spooked Midnight, when I regained my wits, I heard a rustling in the hedge and saw someone running away."

He quickly turned towards her, blessedly experienced enough with the reins not to let it affect the horses. "Did you get a good glimpse?"

"Unfortunately, no. I only saw them from behind and through a hedge, at that. The only thing I could say is it was not a large person."

"A child? Or a woman perhaps?"

"I suppose either could be the case. I'm sorry I did not see better."

"You were stunned from being thrown, Patience." She could hear the worry in his voice. They had thought the threat was gone, at least temporarily. It must mean that the ruse had not worked.

"Do you think it means they are on to us?"

"Perhaps, but it definitely means we need to remain vigilant."

"I do not think I can sit here and wait," Manners said after only ten minutes.

Ashley blew out a breath of frustration. Neither of them excelled at waiting. "But do we risk catching our man if it is one of them?"

"Possibly, but it also might goad them into making a mistake. Many clever criminals like toying with their prey."

"Then I think we should toy back. If we hurry, we can catch him."

Neither of them needed convincing. They tossed some coins on the table, placed their hats on their heads, and hurried out into the night towards Inferno.

Neither of them had ever been there, but most everyone had heard of it. Masked in a location of respectability, the gaming hell was just off St. James's Street.

They barely caught up to Carew as he reached the door. His look of surprise quickly turned to a scowl of displeasure.

"Ye don' trust me?" His Irish brogue broke through his normally perfect Etonian English.

"It is more that we cannot be idle. We mean to toy with the boys. If one of them is our man and they know who we are, then they will either be so arrogant that they might give us a clue, or be so nervous by our presence that they crack."

"Or assassinate you as they did windbag Fagge. I can see I will not talk you out of it regardless. Let's go."

From the outside, it appeared as any other residence along the street. A small panel in the door slid open as they approached, and Carew held up an engraved gold coin with their insignia to show as proof to the doorman. If he could be called something so mundane. Even through the panel, the beefy hand that took the coin and the slight bit of face that surveyed them looked like a giant ogre from a storybook.

"Who's with you?" he growled.

"Two of my associates. I vouch for them."

They heard a grunt of disapproval, but the bolt slid back and the door opened to admit them.

"Anyone here worth my time?" Carew asked the man, likely to diffuse his interest from Ashley and Manners.

"Not many worth your ilk here, my lord. The night is young yet."

Carew really had perfected the art of appearing unaffected. They went on through down to the cellar of the house where a large room was arranged with multiple gaming tables and booths surrounding them for watching and drinking. It was not as luxurious a setting as White's or Brooks's, despite the usual dark panel walls and leather chairs. It appeared to be there solely for the gambling.

A couple of tables had games of cards proceeding, but there was not much of interest.

"We are early yet. Do either of you play? It would help if we looked to be amusing ourselves."

A buxom waitress sauntered over towards them, wearing a short skirt and tiny bodice which left little to the imagination.

"What can I offer you fellas?" the dark-haired seductress asked with a practiced smile as she perched on Carew's lap and put one arm around his shoulder. "It's been too long, my lord. What brings you back at last?"

"Boredom." He shrugged a shoulder carelessly. "Is there anyone new that can offer me a challenge?"

She looked thoughtful for a moment and shook her head. "No one of your skill, but there are some new faces that you might enjoy toying with."

"In other words, you would not mind if I handed it to them?"

"Precisely, my lord."

She brought them drinks and they settled in to a game of piquet. It was an hour before the club began to fill. Soon, the room was crowded, filled with smoke, the shuffle of cards, and the smell of strong spirits. It was not particularly jovial or friendly in nature, as if small talk were not allowed, and they moved straight to serious gaming. The stakes began high as they overheard the betting at the table next to them. It gave Ashley the chills. This was where addicts won or lost entire estates in one flip of a card.

"Your quarry has arrived," Carew muttered without looking up.

"How will it work, then?" Manners asked.

"I suspect a new game will form soon."

That was, in fact, what occurred. With the arrival of Layton and Beckett, one of them spotted Carew and approached. "My lord, your reputation precedes you. I wonder if we could interest you in a game."

Carew was a born actor, as he finished his hand before responding. Then he coolly laid his cards down before giving them a hooded once over. "Have we met?"

"Layton and Beckett at your service," Edwin Layton said with a small bow and an indicative nod at his friend. They looked younger than Ashley had expected, though of age with Rupert. However, there was a gleam in their eyes that spoke to their lack of innocence.

"Will it be worth my while?" Carew drawled.

"Begin at a hundred quid a point."

Carew pretended as if that were barely worth the bother, but conceded. "I suppose one game will tell," he said and waved the newcomers to join him.

Ashley had to bite back a grin. Carew was good. Very, very good. He exchanged glances with Manners, who appeared to be thinking the same thing. Ashley and Manners moved back from the table, as if they were not with Carew, but took their seats where they could observe.

"Shall we add a fourth?" Carew looked about the room to assess if there were any others worth his time. "Last time, there was a fellow who gave me a decent challenge." He narrowed his gaze as if trying to conjure up the name. "Dressed like a Macaroni…named…Hag? No Bag?"

"You must mean Rupert Fagge. He is in the country."

Ashley wondered if they knew of his murder. If so, they were extremely cool customers.

Layton glanced at Ashley and Manners without any recognition as he scanned the room for a fourth player. He did not know if that meant anything or not.

"There is Lord Singleton just come in. His play will be worth your while. We play with him often."

As if their word meant anything to Carew. He looked sideways as if considering. "I think I may have heard of him."

"He was always to be found at Watier's previously."

Carew gave a shrug of indifference. "Call him over then."

Manners gave Ashley a little nudge and whispered. "Isn't that Chum's brother?"

It was, in fact. Ashley didn't know him well. He was the heir to the earl, but did not look much like his brother at all. His profligate ways were taking their toll on his appearance with bloodshot eyes and dark circles, red cheeks, and a telling paunch.

Layton went over and began talking close to Singleton. It was clear they were well-acquainted. Chum's father and brother had quite the reputations, but did he often associate with this younger set? He supposed people weren't too discriminating as long as someone would give them a good game. It would be worth mentioning to Chum.

Apparently, he was convinced. He came to the table and was introduced to Carew. Singleton was sizing them up. He glanced over at Ashley and Manners and gave a nod of recognition. "How's my brother?" he drawled in a manner that spoke little care what the answer was.

"He was well last I saw him," Manners replied.

Singleton had already turned towards the game, and pulled out a cigar and clipped it. But instead of lighting it, chewed on it. Ashley felt for Chum, who was constantly humiliated by his father and brother. Ashley had never been more grateful for his own brother.

Ashley knew a little bit about cards, but was uninterested in the game itself. He watched as cards were shuffled and dealt, and bets were placed. Unfortunately, there was a little talk. He was beginning to lose hope that they would discover anything at all from this other than a motive for needing money. But they needed something much more substantial to go on and time was running out. As Ashley's mind drifted away from the game, Singleton placed a card slowly down to roars of surprise and congratulations. He must've won the hand.

Ashley looked at Carew, who had a gleam in his eyes that he was beginning to recognize as calculating. He'd let Singleton win on purpose. "That was a nice warm-up. Best two out of three?"

"A gentleman always allows a man to recoup." He signalled the barmaid and called for another round of drinks.

A fresh deck of cards was brought out and Beckett began to shuffle. Layton took snuff agitatedly, as if to shore up his nerves for the next round.

Now was the time for talk if ever there would be.

"Why have I never played you before, my lord?" Singleton thankfully asked.

"I favour the hells over the respectable jaunts," he droned.

"I confess to grief over the loss of Watier's." A well-known club that had recently closed, where the stakes had been outrageous under the guise of a gentlemen's club. It had been Brummell's weakness. Layton and Beckett took a pinch of snuff with a possessed look in their eyes that made Ashley feel decidedly unclean.

"What about your estate?" someone called from the back of the group that had gathered to watch.

Singleton waved a hand as if losing an estate mattered not, though he chewed harder on his cigar. "I will come about. I always do."

Said every better gambler and profligate heir, Ashley thought cynically. Chum would be incensed if he heard his brother speaking so.

Apparently, Carew agreed because he handed it to him the next two games. Ashley didn't know whether he cheated or not, but he was not sad to see the three men squirm in their seats and sweat as they realized they would lose.

When Carew tossed the winning card down, gathered their vowels, and made them a bow, they all looked as if they were about to be led to the gallows.

Ashley and Manners left shortly after Carew, feeling no closer to finding their man.