Company Of Rogues: An Unwilling Bride Part 34

"Ladies just don't," he said with a masculine a.s.sertiveness 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 amus.e.m.e.nt. "Is Blanche in?"

Agnes rubbed her hands on her ap.r.o.n. "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 n.o.bs."

"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 friends.h.i.+p 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 pa.s.s 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 t.i.tle. 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 G.o.dwin or a Wilberforce. He's a d.a.m.n-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 t.i.tle 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. Wis.h.i.+ng her heart wasn't doing a nervous dance in the back of her throat, she gave him a speedy outline of her idea.

"My G.o.d, 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."