A Masquerade in the Moonlight(106)
“I’m sorry to hear that, my lord. I had no idea you might be somewhat under the hatches,” Thomas said, discreetly stepping on Dooley’s toes as that man began to chuckle.
“Under the hatches,” his lordship repeated dolefully, then added, “up the River Tick sans boat or oar, left without a feather to fly with, pockets to let, scalded, burnt, down at the heels and out at the cuffs.”
Lord Chorley took a deep breath, then sighed. “Yesterday I thought it would be the end of me, but it ain’t. I’m going to have to leave London, of course—once I can shake Wattle here—but I don’t feel so bad now, for Perry’s going to have to go, too, and he won’t be able to show his face for a dozen dog years, while I’ll be back once you and Ralph straighten things out between you. You will still be able to do that, won’t you, with Perry gone? Did you ever see such a sorry mess as Perry? I saw Ralph earlier, leaving. Wouldn’t go near him right now, Donovan, he’s that angry. I would have been able to whisper a word in the prince’s ear, placing someone we could trust in Perry’s place, but you can put paid to any thoughts of that now, can’t you? Matter of fact, it’s the only thing I can put paid to—ain’t that right, Wattle?” he called over his shoulder. “Here now, hold that brolly over my head! Deuced lot of good it’s doing keeping you dry! If I were to take a chill and die, you’d be left with no chance of bleeding me of the rest of my money. Well, I’ll toddle off now, Donovan—it’s a long walk back to Grosvenor Square. Wattle has promised me some eggs. Good enough fellow, Wattle, and a decent man with an egg, even if he is a dun.”
Thomas, who had been unable to keep from smiling as Lord Chorley prattled on and on, waved the man on his way, then called after him, taking a leaf from Beau Brummell’s book. “My lord—do you have any enemies? Anyone? Perhaps someone nursing an old hurt who’d wish to see you brought low?”
Lord Chorley stopped, then turned to look at Thomas, his skin deadly white, his sunny disposition in the face of his financial and social ruin now completely vanished. Then, without answering, he walked on, Wattle holding the umbrella over his quarry’s bent head.
“What was that all about, Tommie?” Dooley, who had been off collecting Balbus plates and coins for his children, asked as he came up to Thomas. “You already know your little Miss Balfour is out to make trouble for all five of ‘em. We’ve lost our contact at the War Ministry today, no thanks to her, and now Lord Chorley as well, I suppose, who was thick as thieves with the Prince of Wales. She’s making mischief, I agree, but why ask a question that might send the man thinking, and maybe deciding she might be the one bringing him down?”
“He’s not that smart, Paddy. None of them is, except Harewood and Laleham. Mappleton and Totton would be nothing without their assistants, who have probably done all their work for them anyway, and Chorley has been trading on his pleasing disposition all his life, not his brainpower,” Thomas said, tipping his hat forward so that rain poured from the brim. “I just wanted to see his lordship’s face when I asked the question, and measure his guilt. And now I know. Whatever it is The Club did, Marguerite isn’t out to ruin their reputations because of some imagined slight. She’s got a terrible secret she’s been brooding over, and I just have to wait until she trusts me enough to tell me what it is.”
“You said she loves you,” Paddy pointed out as they walked toward their hired hack. “How can she love you and not trust you?”
Thomas increased his pace as it began to thunder. “I haven’t told her what we’re about, Paddy, and I love her. Sometimes too much truth is not a good thing. But there’s no denying she’s put a spoke in our wheels. She’s moving fast now, probably so that none of them will have time to figure out that they’re being targeted and begin thinking about who is out to bring them to grief. With any luck, this all should be over within a matter of days.”
“I suppose I should be thanking her, for she’s not dragging her heels, is she?”
“Hardly, Paddy. Two of them are gone already, with three to go. While I won’t be seeing Harewood until the masquerade tonight, and as I don’t trust myself to see Marguerite just now, I believe you should go searching for our friend of the frayed cuffs. He’s been as busy as the devil in a high wind, and I think he might have some answers for us. You should probably begin with waiting for him to show at Harewood’s, for Sir Ralph might lead us to him the way Chorley did.”