Chapter 15

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

T here was confusion on the street as Bess calmed herself and Oakley called for the butler to bring her outdoor garments and get her carriage brought round. Both sought the appearance of a typical morning call, with Bess asking him very politely to give her best regards to Lord Tipton and him telling her to pass his regards to Sir Humphrey and Lady Leighton. All the while Hanson stood, watching. “You may go,” Oakley said to him at one point. He had hoped hauteur would mortify him, but Hanson was the sort of man incapable of such fine feelings as mortification and stood his ground.

Oakley, on the other hand, was very nearly sick with mortification and disgust for having kissed Bess, dishonoured her. He was no gentleman, and he wished more than anything that Bess would slap him soundly, perhaps give him a kick or two as well. “Pray forgive me,” he murmured to Bess as he handed her into her carriage. “I do not deserve your mercy but plead with you to grant it to me.”

She shook her head, with tears again springing into the corners of her eyes, tears that he despised himself for causing. He felt helpless and uncertain, watching her depart, wondering whether it was best to let her leave or if he ought to try and keep her there to continue making amends. I have bungled this all too badly to set things right at present , he decided. Perhaps some time to calm themselves would help them both.

He watched the carriage go down the road, wishing she might turn around; she did not. When her conveyance had turned the corner, Oakley moved to go back in the house, pointedly turning his back on Hanson who, inexplicably and infuriatingly, yet lingered on the street. “Farewell, Hanson,” he said over his shoulder.

“That was certainly a peculiar scene,” Hanson drawled, causing Oakley to stop.

He faced him with arms across his chest. “Peculiar? Hardly. Mrs Beamish called on Lady Tipton. On finding that the lady was not at home, she gave her regards to me and my uncle, who is ill, as any civil person would. And then she left. Not that any of that is your concern.”

“You know, you have a little something on your lip,” Hanson said, tapping his own with his gloved finger. “Black. Looks like ink. And matches damnably well with the same spot on Mrs Beamish’s lips. Why did she cry, Oakley? Did you take her against her will?”

Oakley’s heart lurched into his throat; he had not noticed the ink on Bess’s lips. He had been too preoccupied with the tears in her eyes. He closed the short distance between them in a trice. “Name your second,” he spat. “You will answer for that insult.”

Hanson only smirked. “My apologies for the insult,” he said smoothly, with no sincerity whatsoever.

“I should not go about spreading tattle on Mrs Beamish, ruining her good name, were I you. Her husband will not tolerate it and neither shall I.”

“Her husband?” Now Hanson laughed outright. “Oh yes, Beamish. He would need to find me first! I shall bid you good day, Viscount. It is still Viscount, is it not? Or have you laid claim to new titles since I saw you last? Perhaps you are the Duke of Oakley now? One does not know what to call you one day to the next.”

“At least no one thinks to call me a jewel thief,” Oakley retorted. “Which is more than can be said of you.”

The effect on Hanson was shocking. His mirth gone, he lunged at Oakley, grabbing his lapels and cravat, shoving his face at him, demanding, “Who? Was it Beamish? That saucebox! When?”

“Stand down.” Oakley gave him a small shove away from him. “I could beat you at school and I shall again if you do not behave as a gentleman ought to.”

Hanson stepped backwards. His face had flushed a dull red, with beads of sweat dotting his forehead. His eyes had narrowed to slits, and his breath came fast.

Beholding him, Oakley laughed, though it was more from incredulity than amusement. “It is true, then. By Jove, Hanson, I knew you were a sly mushroom, but this is beyond anything.”

“We must go somewhere to discuss this. It is not merely your uncle; it is far, far more complicated than that.”

Oakley shrugged. “If you think I mean to go anywhere with you, you have run mad. You forget—Damian is dead. The family’s interest in this wanes accordingly.”

It was not wholly true, but Hanson did not need to know that.

“Who said I had a part in it?” Hanson demanded again. “Did Mrs Beamish say so? What did she say? Either you will tell me or I shall call on her myself and get the information from her.”

Oakley stiffened. “You will leave her alone, Hanson. She knows nothing about any of this.”

“Is that what you think?” Hanson raised one eyebrow. “If so, then you have been gulled as surely as anyone.”

Oakley knew not what to make of that. “By your own words, you have convicted yourself as a party to this scheme. I spoke in jest, but you have confirmed it. That said—” He held up one hand to silence Hanson who appeared as if he were about to speak. “You leave Bess alone and you leave me alone and you may depend upon my silence. I am not the magistrate, nor do I wish to be one.”

“Beamish cut me out,” Hanson hissed. “I want to see him dangle as much as you do!”

“Who said I wish to see Beamish dangle?”

“Stop your useless protests. I see how much you want her, and death is the only way to part them!”

“I hardly wish the man dead. He knew her first; he married her. Where is the harm to me in that?”

Hanson rolled his eyes. “As you wish. But do know this: when next I see him, he will receive no mercy from me.” He stepped back then, and gestured between them with his hand. “We will keep one another’s secrets then, yes?”

Oakley forced a laugh. “What do you think you have on me?”

“Stealing a man’s wife is just as bad as stealing the wife’s necklace,” Hanson said. “Worse, some might say?—”

“I did not?—”

“Come, come!” Hanson interrupted. “Your very look condemns you. You gaze at her like a starving man sees bread. But I shall not tell a soul about that if you do not tell anyone about me. I do not wish to end my life aged six-and-twenty in a hangman’s noose, Oakley. I should think you would grant me that much.”

He extended his hand and Oakley reluctantly accepted it, shaking a hand that made him feel he was making a pact with the devil himself.

An hour later—having washed all the ink from his countenance—he was back in Lord Tipton’s study, still pondering the events of the morning when Kem was announced.

“What is the matter with you?” he exclaimed the moment he saw Oakley. “I understood it was his lordship who was feeling poorly, but now I come and see you in such a state!”

“Is it really so bad?” Oakley quirked a grin as Kem dropped into the chair nearest him. “I am well and his lordship is resting peacefully. Visiting the gaol yesterday proved too much for him, I fear. How did you know?”

“Adelaide was with Lady Tipton at her committee meeting. I am afraid my dear wife cannot resist a charitable cause, particularly one that is aimed at helping children.”

“Which society is it today?”

“Aid for invalid children,” Kem told him. “Possibly invalids in general? Or maybe a society for the relief of the poor? I cannot keep them all straight, but I do know Adelaide means to hold a ball to raise funds for it, whatever it is.”

“How good my sisters are!” Oakley shook his head in wonderment. “Plucked from whatever foul misfortune had befallen them only to become leaders in society, while I, the elder brother meant to guide them, flail about kissing other people’s wives.”

He had not meant to say it so frankly; Kem was rightly shocked, his brows high on his forehead. “You kissed a married woman? Pray do not say it was?—”

“Mrs Beamish, yes.” With a sigh, Oakley stood and went to retrieve the small bottle of brandy his father kept in the sideboard. “Not too early, is it?” he asked rhetorically, pouring two glasses. “I did not mean to say it any more than I meant to do it. And yet I did both. Pray do not censure me, Kem, for I have done nothing but loathe myself since it happened.”

Kem grimaced. “He will call you out, of course. I do not know the man, but who would not?”

“I must tell him, I daresay,” Oakley admitted. His reluctant agreement with Hanson notwithstanding, he was not accustomed to being laid upon with guilt. He was a man who followed rules, who pleased his schoolmasters, and who made his father and mother proud. He was not a man who condoned misbehaviour and, having done such a thing, wished to answer for it.

“It would be infinitely worse to be discovered to have kissed her and kept it a secret, than to tell him yourself I should think.”

“I agree. I am already sinking under the weight of my remorse. I do not suppose thinking him Damian’s murderer lets me off that hook?”

“What is this? You think Beamish murdered Damian?”

“I think it is possible.”

Oakley related to Kem the conversation that had been had with Mr Whittaker Shaw, notably the mysterious man referred to as the Corgi. He said nothing of Hanson but quickly explained his suspicions about the identity of the Corgi.

Kem whistled, long and low. “Do you truly think it is possible? I cannot claim to know Beamish, but he seemed decent enough on the few occasions I have been in company with him.”

“But that is the point, is it not? The men employed were thought to be above suspicion, else the scheme would not have worked,” Oakley said. “And Mrs Beamish’s response this morning could only confirm that something there is afoot. I just do not know if we will ever know the truth of it. One can hardly go to a man and say, hey-ho, I kissed your wife but you killed my uncle, so shall we call it even?”

“Short of confession, it is unlikely any of us will ever know. Damian took his secrets with him to Hell.” Kem offered, “I would be honoured to stand as your second, of course.”

Oakley threw up his hands and shook his head. “No, no, I could not ask it of you. Firstly, you have a child you must think of. Secondly, if I managed to survive the duel, Adelaide would subsequently have my neck for involving you in it!”

“That she would.” Kem chuckled. “Then let us hope it will not come to that.”

“One thing is most certain. If I am to apologise to the man, I shall have to find him first, and that is something that no one, not even his wife, seems able to do.”