Chapter 22
The next day Beth had considerable trouble getting rid of her husband. She knew how he felt. She could hardly bear to be out of his company for a moment and yet it was necessary for her plan. She wasn't at all sure he would approve.
Military matters helped. They breakfasted together sharing a copy of the Times and reading the Duke of Wellington's dispatch. As yet there was no news of casualties except for the death of the Duke of Brunswick.
"It was clearly a terrible battle," Beth said at last.
"But a great victory. See what it says, 'A complete overthrow of the enemy.' Wellington's not one for hollow boasts. Napoleon's done for at last."
"But at what cost?" She was thinking of all the soldiers, but chiefly of the ones she knew, Amleigh and Debenham. It was unthinkable that those merry, vibrant young men, no older than Lucien, be dead, and yet it could be so. There had been that report that said Amleigh's regiment had suffered.
She saw the look in Lucien's eyes. She didn't really understand this group of friends he had, Nicholas and the rest, but it was clearly a deep relationship. It would hurt him bitterly if any of them suffered. Hurt them all.
She laid her hand over his. "When will the lists be out?"
"At any time," he said. "They may put out a special edition of the paper."
Beth sighed. "There's so much grief just waiting to be unleashed. I'm thinking what it would be like if you were there."
His hand tightened on hers. "And we're just hoping the people we care for aren't on the list."
There was no ulterior motive when Beth said, "Why don't you go to your club or to the Delaneys'. There may be more to discover."
"You don't mind? Or you could come with me to Nicholas's"
"No, I'd rather stay here for now."
He left her with a kiss. Beth knew he shared her guilt at being so happy, so fulfilled, when the happiness of others was all at an end. It was always so with war, she supposed. Today London would echo with the cheers of victory while many, many people wept.
Eventually she got a grip on herself and put her plan into action. She claimed she was going back to bed and didn't want to be disturbed. As soon as Redcliff had gone away, however, Beth got up again and dressed. She carefully applied the concealing cosmetics to her face though she couldn't persuade herself that they would fool careful scrutiny. Blanche knew the worst anyway. Then Beth chose the old clothes she had brought from Miss Mallory's and her most concealing bonnet. Inconspicuous, she hoped, she crept down the servants' staircase and out of the coal-room door.
She needed to contact Robin, for she still wasn't certain of the way to Blanche's house, and she needed to speak to him without alerting anyone to her "escape" from Belcraven House. She bit her lip and chuckled as she glanced up at the massive mansion. It was ridiculous to be creeping out like this when no one could actually stop her if she chose to walk out of the front door.
She'd probably drive Lucien to contemplate violence again, once he found out what she was up to. That she felt no tremor of fear told her she really did trust him. She knew she had a foolish smile on her face as she slipped down towards the mews.
What excuse could she make for her visit, and how could she speak to Robin alone? For excuse she could say she was visiting Stella. The poor beast had been given little enough exercise since Hartwell—only two trots in the park. Privacy with Robin was more of a problem. Granger or Dooley would appear like a shot when the marchioness visited the mews.
She was rubbing Stella's soft, velvety nose when Granger appeared.
"Good morning, milady. Can I help you?"
"No thank you, Granger. I just wanted to visit Stella. I hope he is being exercised."
"Never fear, ma'am. Robin takes him out. The only horse he's much good for," the man grumbled. "And, begging your pardon, it does the scamp no good to be taken away from his work and given privileges. Getting above himself for sure."
"Oh," said Beth, concealing a smile as she saw her excuse. "That is unfortunate. Perhaps I should speak to him about it."
"Well, there's no need—"
Beth gave him a de Vaux look.
In a few moments she was talking to Robin in Stella's stall. The boy eyed the horse nervously all the time.
"Really, Robin," said Beth, "you can't possibly be scared of Stella. He has the sweetest nature."
Robin just looked down sullenly.
"I do think it would be better if you let us find some other position for you," she said gently. "Is there nothing you'd rather do?"
The boy wriggled around and scuffed up some wisps of hay. "Don't mind as long as I serve him," he muttered.
Beth understood at last. Pure hero worship. "I'll think about it, Robin. Now, I want you to take me to Mrs. Hardcastle's. Without telling anyone."
The boy looked up, wide-eyed. "I can't, milady. Old Granger'll have me hide. Honest he will."
"Robin. If I give you a task, it is nothing to do with Granger."
Robin fidgeted some more. "The marquess told me not to," he muttered at last, looking down.
"The marquess! When?"
"This mornin'. Said if you asked, I weren't to."
Well, the cunning rogue, thought Beth, not unhappy to be back in a battle of wits with her husband. She bit her lip as she thought.
"Can you tell me how to get there, Robin?" she asked at last.
He looked up. "You'd never go by yerself, milady!"
"Why not? It didn't seem a very dangerous route."
"Ladies just don't," he said with a masculine assertiveness which made her eyes twinkle.
"This lady does as she pleases," said Beth firmly. "If you don't tell me I'll just try to remember the way and ask for directions if I become lost."
This clearly alarmed the boy even more. After a few more protests he gave in. "They'll be standing in line to leather me after this one," he muttered morosely.
He gave the directions clearly enough, however, and Beth slipped him a crown as she left.
For the first little while she felt an itching between her shoulder blades and expected pursuit. Then she settled and began to enjoy the walk. It was a fresh June day and the streets were a-bustle with people. The excitement of the news of the victorious engagement was fizzing about London like champagne. Every now and then some man would call out, "Three cheers for Wellington!" and everyone would huzzah.
The mood was so good, however, that Beth felt in no danger. As there was little chance of recognition in her dowdy clothes and wearing a concealing bonnet, she was enjoying being one of the people again instead of isolated in the ranks of the high aristocracy. She decided there were changes to be made in her life. She smiled at the thought of the battles to come over it.
Soon she left the busier thoroughfares behind and did experience some nervousness as the streets became quieter. Then she took herself to task. These were hardly notorious warrens, full of beggars and criminals, but quietly genteel residential streets. She had walked through such areas in Cheltenham all her life. Just because she was the Marchioness of Arden she would not be deprived of her freedom.
When she was close to Blanche's house, however, she acted on a cautious impulse and went down the back lane instead of knocking at the front door.
Agnes, the maid, gawked when Beth walked into the kitchen. There was another person there, a wizened older woman who was obviously the cook.
Agnes dropped a bemused curtsy. The cook put her hands on her hips. "And who might you be?"
"Hush, Lily. It's... it be the march'ness. You know."
The cook gaped, too. "Lord love us. What is the world coming to? You ought to be ashamed of yourself," she said to Beth.
"Well, I'm not," said Beth, holding back amusement. "Is Blanche in?"
Agnes rubbed her hands on her apron. "I'll go ask. Please to take a seat...." She looked helplessly at the two plain chairs. "Oh, I don't know," she wailed as she left the room.
"Now see what you've done," said Lily. "And I'd just got her calmed down after all that business yesterday! We all get along a deal better when your sort keeps to yourselves in your fancy houses."
Beth sat in one of the chairs. "Are you an admirer of Mary Wollstonecraft, too?" she asked in a friendly manner.
"Who? Not if she's one of the nobs."
"Well," said Beth thoughtfully, "I suppose in a way she was." She was quite prepared for an enjoyable philosophical discussion when Agnes returned with a surprised Blanche.
"Beth, I have the feeling you shouldn't be here," Beth said.
"More than likely," replied Beth.
"More than likely," echoed the cook. "You watch yourself, Maggie. Her sort's no good for you."
"Hush, Lily," said Blanche in a comfortable way. "I know what I'm about. Agnes, we'll have tea, please."
With that she escorted her guest to the parlor. Beth noticed the bloodstains had been removed from the stairs and there was no sign of the previous day's events except for the absence of the chandelier.
"You have interesting servants," she said as she took a seat.
"They serve me well," said Blanche. "As you may have guessed, I choose unfortunates. I admit it's partly because it would be hard for one such as myself to find good staff who wouldn't be insolent, but it's also because I've known poverty and despair. Agnes I picked from the workhouse. Her whole family was sent there when her father died. I trained her, thinking she'd move on, but she chooses to stay. Lily, now Lily helped me when I was young, when I first ran away from home. She's been more a mother to me than my own mother, but she won't play the lady. Doesn't hold with it. I hope she wasn't rude. She has no reason to love the higher orders."
"I like her. Perhaps in time she'll come to accept me."
"You really plan to make a friendship of this, then?" said Blanche. "Lucien won't like it, you know. Men don't like their lives muddied."
"We all have to make adjustments," said Beth. "And when you're married to his best friend—"
"Which will be never," said Blanche firmly, though Beth was interested to see that she blushed. "The man's wits have gone begging. I've told him I'll consider an... an arrangement."
Beth let the matter pass though if she'd been a gambling woman she would lay odds the White Dove's days of freedom were numbered. "Has everything been sorted out?" she asked, not able to bring herself to refer directly to the body.
"Yes," said Blanche. "Nicholas Delaney is a remarkably efficient gentleman. With some interesting accomplices. I didn't ask too many questions, but I gather the hired bullies have been press-ganged and the body, with identification removed, has been left in the warrens of St. Giles. He'll be found in a day or two, I suppose. In that quarter, no one's going to ask too many questions. Even Bow Street only goes there in numbers. Deveril had been known to haunt those parts looking for something to slake his tastes, so I don't suppose there'll be great surprise."
Beth shuddered. "He was more horrible than I imagined. It is incredible that men such as he be tolerated merely because they have inherited a title. Inherited privilege is very wrong."
"Perhaps," said Blanche with a smile. "But take my advice and fight the skirmishes, Beth, don't take on the war. There's plenty for good-hearted people to do without destroying themselves and those they love."
Beth considered her newfound friend seriously. "You mean Lucien?"
Blanche nodded. "He's making great progress, but you'll never turn him into a William Godwin or a Wilberforce. He's a damn-your-eyes de Vaux and always will be."
"I know it. And," said Beth with a rueful smile, "apologies to Mary Wollstonecraft, I wouldn't want him any other way. Which reminds me, I had better get on with my reason for coming here and return to Marlborough Square before he realizes I'm gone."
She paused a moment while Agnes brought the tea tray and Blanche poured. She sipped the tea, finding it a little hard to broach the subject. "Blanche, how do you feel about forgery? And, I suppose, burglary."
Blanche put down her cup. "They're hanging matters, Beth."
Beth licked her lips. "I know. But I doubt it would come to that anyway, with the power of the de Vaux family involved. Isn't that terrible?" she remarked. "I'm just as bad as they are."
"Beth," said Blanche. "Say what you have in mind."
Beth took a deep breath. "If what he told me is true, Deveril has no heir. The title and fortune will revert to the Crown. What if Clarissa was his heir?"
Blanche sat up straighter. "A will?"
Beth nodded. "It would have to be found in his house," she said. "I think that's the most dangerous part."
"We'd need a sample of his writing."
Beth sat with her hands gripped together. She must be mad. This was definitely against the law. Inexcusable. Except, of course, that it would solve so many problems. "Deveril was reputed to be very rich," she said out loud. "When the will is found, Lucien's solicitor could make sure at least some of the money was tied up for Clarissa. Her family would take the rest, no doubt. It should keep them out of the Fleet for a while."
"And, little as I like the sound of them, they will make better use of it than Deveril ever did," said Blanche.
"And why should it go into the bottomless pit of the government? The Regent would only buy another gold trinket or two."
They looked at each other, both slightly awed by the plan.
"Can it be done?" Beth asked.
Blanche nodded. "Will you tell Lucien?"
"I don't know," said Beth.
There was a sharp rap of the knocker. Agnes came hurrying across the hall. Blanche said, "I have a feeling...."
Beth said, "So do I." She felt her nerves begin to twitch.
Lucien walked in. "You," he said to Beth, "need to be locked up."
Despite the words, he couldn't help but smile, and she couldn't help but echo it. It was nearly two hours since they'd parted, after all.
He sat down beside her and took her hand. "Tell me what you're up to. The whole truth."
Despite the smile, Beth knew the demand was serious. Wishing her heart wasn't doing a nervous dance in the back of her throat, she gave him a speedy outline of her idea.
"My God, woman!" he exploded. "I'm revising all my notions of wife-beating."
"Ha!" she snapped back. "As soon as you're crossed—"
"Crossed! You're looking to me to save you from the noose! Peers of the realm have been hanged before now, you know. And having it done with a silken rope can't be much consolation."
Beth just looked at him. After a moment his lips twitched. "It is a rather clever plan," he said more moderately. "Better than Nicholas's, in fact."
"Nicholas's?" both women said.
"I've just come from there. Via Marlborough Square," he said with a mock frown, "where I discovered my poor exhausted wife had recovered her energy."
Beth just gave him a saucy smile. "What is this about a plan of Nicholas's? What interest has he in Clarissa?"
"None, but he has his own reasons for wanting to deprive Deveril of his money. Since it's all sitting there in his house in steel-banded chests, we had pretty well decided to go in and take it."
"House-breaking!" exclaimed Blanche. "You're all mad."
"Not really. We have a peer of the realm, a de Vaux, and a member of parliament on board, not to mention the disorder at Deveril's place because of his disappearance and the growing chaos in the streets because of the celebrations. Which reminds me," he said to Beth with exasperation, "of all the days to choose to walk about unescorted, why pick today?"
"Because today is today," she retorted. "And, I should point out, I've been walking the streets unescorted all my life. And," she said, rolling over his attempt to speak, "it occurs to me to wonder how long you overgrown schoolboys have been hatching your plan and why you never said a word to me."
"Overgrown schoolboys!" He swallowed that and continued, "It was nothing to do with you, Beth. It was old, unfinished business."
"It was to do with me when I expressed concern about Clarissa being forced to marry the man. You just stormed out, thinking I was complaining about our affairs."
He frowned in puzzlement. "Oh, that time. But you never mentioned who the husband was to be. It was only the other night that I realized Deveril was involved. It was only then I developed any sympathy for the girl. I thought she was just being miss-ish."
Blanche, who had been the fascinated audience of this squabble, cleared her throat. "We were discussing burglary, forgery, and a number of other criminal offenses," she reminded them.
"So we were," said Lucien. He turned to Beth. "I think what we ought to do is go over to Lauriston Street and put your idea to Nicholas, but I don't think we should involve Blanche any more than necessary."
Beth rose. "Of course not. I only came here because I hadn't the faintest idea how to bring about anything illegal and I thought Blanche might." She turned to the actress. "Do you?"
"Not from first-hand experience, no," said the actress dryly. "But I have a few disreputable friends. Including, it would appear, Lucien de Vaux."
He grinned unrepentantly. "And Hal Beaumont. He's at Nicholas's." He winked. "Why don't you come with us?"
Blanche blushed again. "I have lines to learn for tonight."
"Coward," teased Lucien.
Blanche glared at him.
Beth stood and shook hands with the White Dove. "I'll see you again soon, my friend."
"No, you won't," said Lucien.
"When you're Mrs. Beaumont," said Beth firmly.
"Which will be never," retorted Blanche.
Beth simply laughed at both of them.
* * *
When they arrived at Lauriston Street, the house was crowded as usual. Eleanor rolled her eyes at Beth. "Have you heard? They're all quite mad. I expect to live to see them strung up in a row."
"I think we have a slightly less dangerous plan to offer," Beth said. As she took off her bonnet, she watched Eleanor, but if she noticed the bruise she gave no sign.
When they were settled in the drawing room Lucien gave Beth the floor to explain her plan. Despite her belief in equality, she felt rather nervous to be addressing a large group of men—six members of the Company of Rogues, Peter Lavering, and a rotund little man called Tom Holloway.
When she'd explained, however, everyone approved.
"I like it," said Nicholas. "It has subtlety and I do like subtlety. Apart from planting the will in Deveril's house, there's no real danger. I know an excellent forger I can trust."
Tom Holloway said, "We'll need a sample of his writing, Nick, and it has to be done quickly. If the will's found in his desk as soon as the body's discovered, it's less likely to be questioned than if it turns up after the event."
"I wonder if Clarissa has anything he wrote," said Lucien.
Beth gave a little gasp. "Probably not, but I have!"
"What?" he asked.
"When Clarissa first came to see me she brought a letter he'd written her. It was more like a list of rules for his wife. A horrible thing. She left it and I forgot all about it. It's between the leaves of Self-Control."
"Remarkably inappropriate," said Lucien. "We'll send it over and trust Nicholas to handle the rest of it. If you don't mind, Nicholas."
"Not at all," he replied. "There's little to connect me to Deveril."
"And what's more," said Beth, "once this succeeds, it should make sure Clarissa keeps the secret. To let it out would lose her the fortune."
Lucien looked at her and shook his head. "You seem to have lost all moral scruples. A case of galloping depravity if ever I saw one."
Beth couldn't help but smile at the memories his words evoked, and she saw him take a sudden breath. "Having settled this unholy pact, Beth," he said quickly, "we're leaving." To Nicholas he said, "We'll send over the handwriting."
Nicholas and Eleanor walked them to the door. "Mad adventures suit you both," Nicholas said and yet Beth was sure he had seen the mark on her face and interpreted it truly. In dismissing it, of course, he was quite correct. It was a mischance along the way, nothing more.
"On the whole," said Lucien, "I think I prefer a quiet life. I died a hundred deaths yesterday after seeing Beth sitting there with a pistol trained on her."
"Love can be the very devil, can't it?" Nicholas said, wrapping an arm around his wife.
"But on the whole, it's all it's cracked up to be," said Lucien, drawing Beth to him, "once one's got the knots worked out, that is."
"Have I been such a tangle for you, Lucien?" Beth inquired solicitously.
"I have been thoroughly entangled," he said with a warm look.
There was a sharp rap at the door.
Nicholas opened it and a lad shoved a paper at him. "There you are, guv." The boy ran off to make his other ordered deliveries of the special edition.
They were all abruptly sobered. Nicholas looked at the paper then up at Beth and Lucien. "Do you want to know?"
"Of course," said Lucien.
They went back into the drawing room. Silence fell. Nicholas opened the paper and scanned the page. "God, what a list," he muttered. "And the damned thing is it can't be complete...." He ran his eyes over the fine print then stopped, as if he couldn't quite believe his eyes.
Then, "Dare," he said.
He passed the paper over to Hal Beaumont and went to stare out the window. Eleanor joined him and after a moment he drew her to him, and she rested her head on his shoulder.
Beth looked at Lucien, a very sober Lucien. She reached out and took his hand. She'd only known the lighthearted young man slightly. He'd been the one who had once tried to build a champagne fountain. She remembered dancing with him at her betrothal ball. "I'm sorry," she said softly. It was inadequate, but it was all she could think to say.
He squeezed her hand. "He wanted so much to be part of it." He looked at Hal. "Are there any more?"
"Many, many more," said Hal, grim faced. "I'm sorry. I know too many of these fellows. I don't see Con." He passed the paper blindly to Stephen Ball and hid his face in his hand. After a moment he looked up. "Do you think... would Blanche turn me from the door?"
"No," said Lucien.
Hal walked out.
Stephen said, "I don't think Con's name is here. Or Leander. As Nicholas said, the list can't be complete but there's hope." He passed the paper on to Miles Cavanagh.
Nicholas came back and poured wine for all, making it clear he was about to propose a toast. Everyone stood. "The Company of Rogues is now nine," he said soberly. He raised his glass. "To all the fallen: may they be young forever in heaven. To all the wounded: may they have strength and heal. To all the bereaved: may they feel joy again. And please God," he added quietly, "may there one day be an end to war."
He drained his glass and sent it smashing into the empty fireplace. Everyone followed suit, even Beth, though she was shocked by the moment.
Soon after she and Lucien slipped out of the house to walk home. The streets were still vibrant with the delirium of victory but every now and then Beth saw a face as sober as theirs.
"It may not be the end of war," she said tentatively, "but it surely is the end of this war."
"I should have been there," Lucien said and quoted again the words from Henry V "'And gentlemen in England now abed / Shall think themselves accursed they were not here, / And hold their manhoods cheap....' Not for glory. I don't know if there was any glory. It's just that I should have been there. And to hell with the pride of the de Vaux."
Beth felt helpless in the face of this grief, felt almost as if he was shutting her out. Acting on instinct, as soon as they were in Belcraven House she said, "Let's go to my rooms."
Once there she sat on the sofa and drew him down beside her. "Tell me about him."
And so he did. Eyes closed, resting in her arms, he recalled for her the whole story of the Company of Rogues. How Nicholas Delaney, already a leader at thirteen, had gathered together some boys to be a mutual protection society with vague overtones of the Knights of the Round Table, which was why they'd stopped at twelve members.
"We wanted to call ourselves the Golden Knights, I think," Lucien said with a smile, "but Nick said we weren't there to protect the weak and innocent but to protect ourselves. And so we became the Company of Rogues. Which was pretty apt. The tricks we used to get up to...."
He went on to describe their tricks—some acts of revenge for cruelty done to one of the members but many just very inventive mischief. "We had a rule—I'm sure it was Nick's doing—that we couldn't use the Company to evade just punishment. I seem to remember him saying it was necessary to learn not to get caught, but if we were caught we had to take our medicine. God, when I think of some of the floggings. Do you think it toughens us into mighty warriors?"
Beth stroked his hair. "I don't know, love."
"Dare," he said. "Dare could take the worst beating with a smile. Afterwards he'd howl, but at the time he'd keep this silly smile on his face. It used to drive the masters wild. I suppose he smiled...." After a moment he went on. "There's nine of us now, assuming Con's all right. Allan Ingram followed his father into the Navy straight from Harrow. He was killed three years ago. A fight with a Yankee ship. Roger Merryhew died of wounds he received at Corunna. Leander—he's Lord Haybridge—he's with the guards. He must have been at this battle of Waterloo."
"His name wasn't on the list," Beth reminded him.
"The lists aren't complete, and they give scarcely any of the wounded. He could have lost a limb, been blinded."
They lapsed into silence. Beth found herself pondering the business of the toy soldier. Eleanor had reported Nicholas's comment that there was no reason his daughter shouldn't grow up to be a soldier. It was clear that Nicholas had no fondness for war, so why would he say such a thing? Because it was a consequence of the equality of the sexes he obviously believed in. Beth found herself chilled by that implication which had never been addressed by Mary Wollstonecraft.
Lucien sat up and buried his head in his hands. "I'm sorry, Beth, I think I want to go back to Lauriston Street. Apart from anything else, there's still this Deveril business to be taken care of. Do you mind?"
"Of course not." She understood the Company's need to be together. She went and found Deveril's letter and gave it to him. But then she found she didn't want to be left behind. Somewhat hesitantly she asked, "May I come with you?"
"Of course. You're a member by marriage, and it is your plan."
They found the Delaney household returned to normal, a rather sober normal, but normal all the same. Eleanor was nowhere to be seen. Nicholas, Francis, Miles, Stephen, and Peter were around the dining table discussing their plans. Nicholas smiled when they came in. Beth thought it was significant that he had a sleeping baby in his arms. She thought Arabel was the magic key in this house.
"You have the letter? Excellent. I'll take it to my clever friend shortly, then all we have to do is fight over who gets the fun of breaking and entering."
It was Miles Cavanagh, the gingery Irishman, who said, "I think we should rule out married men for a start."
Peter Lavering eyed him. "I think we should rule out foreigners."
The Irishman's eyes flashed. "Ah, if only Ireland were a foreign land."
"No politics today, please," said Stephen Ball. "I get enough of the Irish Question on the floor."
Nicholas spoke up. "With Amy due to have the baby any day, Peter, we can't involve you in anything. Besides which," he added, "you aren't a member."
Peter looked belligerently uncomfortable. "It ain't my fault my family always goes to Winchester."
Nicholas smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry. You are, of course, a full honorary member. But you're still not getting involved in this. I missed Arabel's birth, and I have strong feelings on the subject. Stephen, you're not coming either. If anything goes wrong we may need your influence—"
Eleanor popped into the room. "'Ware servants!"
A few moments later Hollygirt and a maid came in to lay out a cold collation, tea, and ale. When the servants had left and the food was being passed around, they continued the discussion.
"If I'm proscribed," said Sir Stephen, "then I think Francis should be, too. He's a member of the Lords though he rarely takes advantage of it."
Lord Middlethorpe said, "Stubble it, Steve."
Nicholas shook his head. "We only need one to plant the will. The rest will be to guard and distract—" He broke off at the sound of the knocker.
In a moment the door opened and Hal ushered Blanche into the room. A rather tense and uneasy Blanche. "He would insist that I come," she said.
Eleanor came forward. "You must be Mrs. Hardcastle. You're very welcome."
Nicholas said, "Yes, indeed. Come join us at the table."
Hal and the bemused White Dove were soon seated in the circle. Blanche looked at Nicholas with a slight frown. "We met before last night," she said. "About a year ago." There was clearly some significance to this. Almost a challenge.
"Yes, I know," Nicholas said easily. "I was with Thérèse Bellaire."
Blanche glanced at Eleanor, and Eleanor smiled. "It's all right, Mrs. Hardcastle, I know all about it."
Blanche's brows rose. Nicholas said dryly, "Not quite all about it." Eleanor looked startled. "Go on," said Nicholas.
Beth looked between the two of them, wondering what was going on.
Hal said to the company as a whole, "She was fermenting all these strange ideas, so I thought she'd better come and get them off her chest. Anyway, she may be able to help us."
Blanche flushed but faced Nicholas resolutely, "You were also there with Deveril."
It was Beth's turn to stare at Nicholas. A more unbelievable acquaintanceship was impossible to imagine.
"Not quite," said Nicholas. "He was there with Thérèse as was I. I was definitely not with him."
"Strange company all the same."
"You were there, too."
"A mistake. I left quickly."
"And I stayed there all night." There was something distinctly bleak in his voice but then he looked down at the baby and gently smoothed her fuzzy hair. "You think my past makes me unsuited to take this business in hand?" he queried, looking up again. "On the contrary."
Blanche studied him thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded. "I see. Very well. How can I help?"
Beth hadn't the faintest notion what that had all been about and after a glance at Lucien's wooden face suspected she was never going to find out. This time last year, however, Eleanor must have been pregnant with Arabel. It seemed unbelievable that Nicholas Delaney had been consorting with a whore at that time, particularly one who counted Lord Deveril as an intimate.
Eleanor did not seem disturbed, and Nicholas picked up their planning. "Are you on stage tonight?" he asked Blanche.
"No."
"You said you had lines to learn for tonight," Lucien interrupted.
"I lied," Blanche said, then turned back to Nicholas. "What can I do?"
He grinned. "Do you think you could play the part of a common whore?"
Blanche grinned back. "Difficult, but I am an actress, after all. What do I do?"
"Distract."
She chuckled. "I think I can manage that."
Beth took her courage in both hands. "I want to play a part, too," she said. "Surely two whores will be better than one."
"Over my dead body!" Lucien exploded.
"That can be arranged," Beth retorted.
Lucien opened his mouth and took a deep breath. "It's out of the question, Beth," he said more moderately. "You're not an actress."
"I was always very competent in theatricals."
"That is hardly the same thing."
Beth fixed him with a cold eye. "Lucien de Vaux, either you are implying I am too delicate a creature to take part in this adventure, or you think that Blanche is too coarse to care about. Which?"
Random seating had placed him between Beth and Blanche, and he looked between them and sunk his head in his hands. "I don't believe this' is happening."
There was a wave of laughter, but Beth could see some of the men were scandalized by her behavior. Nicholas, however, said, "If you want to come, Beth, you're welcome. Eleanor?"
Eleanor's eyes widened. "Will you think me very tame if I say no?"
"Of course not." He looked at Blanche and Beth. "If the will is not to be questioned there must be no hint of strange goings-on at Deveril's house, but there may still be a couple of his men there. If we're lucky they'll have taken his absence as a chance to go out and join the fun, but he was a hard master who paid well for obedience, so we can't depend on it. Deveril was in the habit of bringing in women for himself and his men. You will turn up in that guise and keep them occupied. It should only be for a matter of minutes."
"How do we get out without raising suspicion?" Blanche asked.
"Your protectors will turn up and drag you out. You see, you have arranged this little bit of business for yourself and deprived them of their cut."
Lucien looked up sternly. "In that case, I am one of them."
"Of course. And Miles."
Beth raised a problem. "Won't this little foray be seen as suspicious if the will is questioned?"
"Unlikely. The scenario's not unlikely and with luck the men will be off as soon as Deveril's death is discovered. The beauty of your plan, Beth, is that no one has a pressing cause to investigate anything. Besides, if questions are asked, the doxies will never have penetrated into the upper floors of the house. All we're trying to avoid here is bodies or an obvious break-in."
Nicholas looked at Francis and Hal. "You two have the boring job of hanging about in the street as your normal selves ready to help if need be."
They didn't look too happy at being cut out of the action but agreed.
Nicholas addressed Lucien and Miles. "We're all dressing as the great unwashed. I'll get the clothes. We'll meet at Tom Holloway's to change, but try to turn up there inconspicuously. You, in particular, Luce, tend to glitter."
"How can you say that," Lucien demanded, "when you think of my low tastes?" He cast a baleful look at both his mistress and his wife.
Beth giggled.
"What time?" Miles asked.
"We'll meet at nine. It'll be growing dark and the streets should be lively with impromptu celebrations." He looked at Beth and Blanche. "Make sure you can't be recognized. I don't want to have to kill the men if I can help it."
Beth was startled at how easily she believed him capable of killing when required. She was beginning to wish she'd not, volunteered, but it was too late now.
Blanche nodded. "I'll get wigs from the theater and paint. Anything else we're likely to need?"
Throughout the following discussion, Beth was aware of Lucien's silence. If he was that angry, why had he not made a stronger objection? What would she have done if he had made a stronger objection?
Soon Beth and Lucien were walking back to Marlborough Square. He didn't speak, and Beth didn't try to make conversation. However, he followed her into her boudoir.
Beth looked at him nervously. He wasn't in a rage but neither was he happy. He ran a hand through his hair. "I would like to be allowed to keep you safe," he said.
Beth faced up to him. "I can't live in a gilded cage, Lucien."
"There is a lot of ground between a gilded cage and the gutter," he said angrily, "and that is where you're going tonight. You remember Deveril's henchmen. What if something goes wrong? What if it takes time for us to intervene?"
Beth hadn't really thought it through that far, and she swallowed even as she stuck to her guns. "It is not right that Blanche be asked to do things I am not asked to do."
"For God's sake, Blanche is a whore!" he exploded. "She's a gem and I love her—in a platonic way these days, of course—but she worked her way to London on her back and, bought her way into the theater the same way. Now she depends on her acting for her livelihood, but she's seen and done things you can't even imagine!"
"With you, no doubt," Beth snapped.
"Yes, sometimes!"
"I'm sure I'm a very boring lover compared to her! I'm sure you'd rather go off tonight and adventure with her and leave me safe here at home to ply my needle!"
"Yes, I would!"
Beth decided she'd like to hit him and clenched her fists. "Well, I won't."
He glared at her. "Fine. Just remember I warned you!" With that he slammed out of the room with a reverberating crash.