Chapter 32
“This is Edgar?” Nash asked, scowling.
“Yes, my stepson.” Lord, would the surprises never end this day?
“It’s Sir Edgar Cavendish, if you please.” The peevish voice rose once more. “And this woman is a blatant thief.” He pointed his finger at Charlotte. “I come here to pay my respects to my stepmother only to find she has stolen all my possessions and set them out unashamedly for all the world to see. Even to the Robert Adam mantelpiece.”
The company’s gaze shifted to the mantelpiece, sleek white marble, with inlaid verd antico flutes in the frieze and jambs.
Jane detached herself from George Abernathy, who seemed to be searching for a drink, and hurried over to Charlotte. “Well, my dear, I think it’s time to open your budget.”
“I believe you are correct, cousin.” She smiled at the company, whose gaze was riveted to her, and moved toward Edgar.
“I fear you are wrong on all accounts, Edgar.” She’d not call him by his title to save her soul. That ought to set up his bristles. “According to the marriage settlements, signed by your father, after his death I was allowed to take any material possessions I brought into the marriage. I have done so.”
“But you’ve taken everything.” He spun around, his gaze darting from one piece of furniture to another, until it finally rested on the mantelpiece. “You can’t have bought that as well.”
“I have copies of my settlement papers and a box full of receipts if you care to peruse them. The document on top is a copy of my grandmother’s will, where you will see she bequeathed the mantelpiece to me.”
He looked at them with a Friday face. “You’ve ruined me.”
“I think you’ve done that yourself.” Charlotte motioned toward the doorway. “If you’ve come to collect your furniture, you had best head back to London. Whatever remains belongs to you.”
Edgar leaned toward her and she took a step back, almost running into Nash.
“Don’t you understand, I’m on the rocks! I’ve got nothing. Why do you think I came back early from my grand tour? Uncle Gordon wrote and told me my money had run out. But I still had the house and its furnishings.”
“You’ve inherited the house, haven’t you?” Nash broke in, impatient. “That should fetch a goodly sum, unless. . .”
“Mortgaged.” Edgar spit out the word as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.
Charlotte shook her head. Sir Archibald had always done everything in his power to placate Edgar’s every whim. The grand tour had likely depleted his funds completely. Poor Edgar.
Suddenly grasping Charlotte by the hand, Edgar propelled her toward the door.
Before he had gone two steps, he was halted and hoisted up off the floor by Nash’s two capable hands, sunk into his black jacket. “Lay hands on her again and I’ll draw your cork but good.”
“What if I ruin her instead?” Edgar jeered at Nash, who shook him like a terrier with a rat.
“You wouldn’t slander a lady. Your own stepmother?” Nash’s eyes narrowed.
“He’d do whatever it took to make me give up my possessions.” Charlotte sniffed. She’d dealt with Edgar for five years. And the information he thought he held over her was likely scurrilous. “What do you think you know, Edgar?”
“Put me down and let us step back into the hall.”
Nash released him immediately with a smothered curse.
Edgar barely caught himself, windmilling his arms to try to keep his balance. He tugged at his coat, rumpled beyond repair, and headed out the doorway. Nash took Charlotte’s arm. She sent a speaking look to Jane. Keep them all here, she mouthed to her, then followed Edgar out.
“All right, Edgar, what is this scandalous information?” Charlotte had done with his antics. Given the slightest provocation, she’d be happy to turn Nash loose on him. With Edgar’s unexpected presence, she’d not even been able to tell Jane the news about her marriage.
“That you’ve been holding house parties for rakes and rogues and women who are nothing more than light-skirts. How would you like for that to get back to your father, Stepmother?” He sneered triumphantly.
“And who has been spreading this vicious gossip, I wonder?” Charlotte glanced at Nash and gestured, as if she was tossing someone over a balustrade.
“Who indeed, Charlotte?” Nash grinned back at her. “I might venture a guess.” He turned his attention back to Edgar. The smile evaporated. “Are you by chance acquainted with Lord Fernley, Cavendish?”
Edgar paled but nodded.
“Well, let me speak a word in your ear about that gallant. After making improper advances to Lady Cavendish, and likely other ladies of the party, Lord Fernley proceeded to try to balance on the railing of the veranda and fell into the rosebushes. His dignity being somewhat bruised, he left the next day.” Nash advanced on Edgar until he had him pressed as flat as possible against the wall.
“Hear me straight, Cavendish. Lady Cavendish has just consented to be my wife. I do not believe you wish to slander the future Countess of Wrotham.” Nash thrust his face to within inches of Edgar’s. “Both her father and I would be very displeased to hear such tales being repeated.”
Edgar opened his mouth to speak when the door knocker boomed. Nash stepped away from his quarry and turned to the door just as Fisk appeared and opened it.
“Lord Wrotham, if you please.”
Mr. Kelliam? Charlotte glanced at Nash and shrugged her shoulders. What was he doing here? She came forward as the Runner with another, younger man, strode into the hall. Hands pinioned behind his back, the stranger stared at her in stark terror.
“Kelliam?” Nash came from behind the door. “Thayer?” He addressed the frightened man, whose face now approached the color of new cheese. “What the devil are you doing with my valet?”
“He’s your informant, my lord. Daniel Micklefield turned stag almost before we could sit him down at The Bull.” Kelliam chuckled. “He told me more than enough about the gang and its movements. Did you know, Lady Cavendish, they’ve been hiding out all summer in an abandoned barn at Grafton Lodge?”
“Dear Lord.” Father would have apoplexy when he found out.
“I popped back over to Wrotham Hall and caught this one,” he shook the valet, “with all his belongings just setting out down the road at a trot.” Kelliam released the wretched Thayer, who stood before Nash with his head lowered.
Nash’s gaze bore into the man, his deepening frown overshadowing his handsome features. At last he spoke one word. “Why?”
Thayer finally raised his head, grimacing. “I had to, my lord. My family in Dorset came on hard times. My father died, you remember, and my mother’s still got three little ones at home to feed. I’ve been sending them almost all my wages, but it hasn’t been enough.” He took a deep breath, though he still avoided Nash’s eyes. “When we were in London in June, my mother wrote that the landlord had threatened to turn them out into the street. I had to do something.” Thayer paused, as if trying to gather the strength to continue.
Nash’s face remained stony, though a tic made the end of his mouth twitch. “You could have spoken to me if things had become so dire. But continue.”
The man sighed. “Happened to mention my predicament to another gentleman’s gentleman I’d met at a pub, and he said his gentleman might have a job for me where I could make a good bit of money on the side. So he arranged for me to meet the man. He seemed very pleased you had an estate in Kent. ‘That will make it even easier,’ he said. When I heard his whole scheme, I tried to say no, my lord. But he gave me a bit of money—enough to keep my mother safe for a while—and the promise of more to come. After that, I couldn’t say no.”
“Indeed.” Nash’s cold tone said he didn’t care what the circumstances were. “His name, man. The least you can do to redeem yourself is to give us his name.”
“Yes, my lord.” The poor valet finally looked into Nash’s eyes, then a frown creased his brow. He cocked his head, as if bewildered. “But there he is now, my lord.” Thayer tried to point, but having no hands to do so motioned with a jerk of his shoulder. “He’s in the corner there. Sir Edgar Cavendish.”
Charlotte’s knees nearly buckled. Edgar had masterminded the robber gang? Impossible. The boy didn’t have the brains for such a thing. There must be some mistake. She turned toward the place where Nash had been holding Edgar just as her stepson bolted for the door.
Nash seized him by the back of his collar and hauled him over to Kelliam. “Sir Edgar, you say, Thayer? You are sure?”
“Yes, my lord. The very person. He was supposed to meet the gang later tonight to divide the goods.” Thayer stopped abruptly.
“The goods to be stolen from Wrotham Hall?”
“Yes, my lord,” the valet mumbled. He looked ready to cry.
Nash shook Edgar and threw him down at Kelliam’s feet. “You have one more gang member to secure tonight, then.”
“I have never heard a more preposterous thing in my life.” Edgar tried to rise and the Runner grasped his hand and helped him to his feet.
“We’ll have to see about that, Sir Edgar.” Kelliam nodded toward Thayer. “Are you the only one who had contact with him? Do the other members know about him?”
“I know nothing of this gang you speak of.” Edgar dusted off his jacket as if highly insulted. Yet his eyes flitted toward the door.
“No, sir. But I have the letters he’s sent me with instructions for the gang. He’s only ever been here once, to meet with me, not the gang. That was when he came down to get a horse they had stolen.”
“My horse!” Charlotte strode over to Edgar, outraged and shaking. “That was my horse you stole, and my estate manager your gang almost murdered.” She raised her hand, itching to strike the boy who had helped make her life miserable for so many years. Her hand clenched into a fist, but she let it fall to her side. “I swear, you will pay for that, Edgar. My father will be very interested in this case when I tell him you used his property to hide the gang members.”
She glanced at Nash. “I believe it now. When I first married, my father invited Sir Archibald and the two boys down to the hunting lodge. Edgar would have known about an abandoned barn on the property.” She glared at him, then said with a sneer, “I don’t think it’s going to matter much whether you have furniture in your town house or not. I suspect you will not be taking up residence there for some time to come.”
“This is an outrage.” Edgar’s bluster had lost some of its shine. “I demand to be taken to London, where I will be able to explain the situation to a magistrate.”
“You can explain it to Wrotham’s magistrate in the morning.” Nash nodded to Kelliam, who took Edgar’s arm none too gently.
“For tonight you’ll have to put up with the accommodations at The Bull, Sir Edgar.” The Runner pushed the two men toward the door. “A nice locked cellar with the rest of your gang.” Fisk, who had stoically witnessed the entire episode, let them out.
Charlotte heaved a sigh and walked into Nash’s arms. “Is it over? Is it really over?”
“It is, my love.” He kissed her brow and hugged her tight. “Although I am now, unfortunately, in need of a valet.”
“I feel so badly for Thayer,” Charlotte said, winding her arms around his waist. “He was trying to help his family and ended up duped by my stepson.” She peered into his face, his eyes more flinty than she’d ever seen them. Perhaps her best wheedling tone would work. “I know what he did was wrong, but can’t we do something for him? Please, Nash?”
He grunted and pulled her back to him. “I’ll speak to the magistrate. Ask for leniency. Transportation instead of hanging. That’s the most I can do.”
“Was he a good valet?”
“I’ve only ever had the one.”
Charlotte laughed. “But until this evening, he did his job well?”
“Yes.”
“Then I think you should do something for his family. They will be destitute without him.” She gazed into his eyes, willing him to agree. “Please?”
“Well, I suppose a small annuity to keep Mrs. Thayer from destitution might be in order.” Nash pulled her head back and smiled down at her. “Will that suffice, my lady?”
“Admirably. Something is always better than nothing, my lord. Haven’t you learned that?” And she certainly had something now.
“Charlotte!” Jane’s voice echoed in the hall.
She glanced down the hall to find her cousin standing in the doorway to the drawing room. “If you don’t come this minute and explain yourself and all these goings on, I shall have to resort to strong spirits to calm my nerves.”
“We are coming.” Charlotte wound her arm in Nash’s and they strolled down the hall. “I’ve some news for you.”