A Masquerade in the Moonlight(70)
“Immortality?” Sir Ralph whispered the word, then pressed both hands over his mouth, to stifle the tide of hysterical giggles rising in his throat. He knew it! He just knew it! Maxwell, who had come to him unbidden, this man of the dark eyes that burned like coals, was to be his salvation. “How much?” he asked... he begged... he bleated... not caring how desperate, how revealing his tone. “Christ, man, don’t leave me hanging—how much?”
“Twenty thousand pounds,” Maxwell answered, his tone suddenly very businesslike as he rose from the chair and headed for the door. “But the money is not for me. Half must be given to charity, and given freely, in order to cleanse your soul. The rest will be used in another way, one which you shall soon understand.”
“Charity? Good works? Yes, yes, that seems sensible.” Sir Ralph nodded furiously. “Yes, yes, I can do that. It will take some time to raise such a substantial amount—a few weeks, no more than a month—but I can do it.”
“Friday, my friend. Not a day later. I shall go away now, to prepare, but I will return on Friday. Remember, my friend. I have seen your palm. You haven’t much time. Good-bye.”
Sir Ralph turned his hands palm up, looking quickly from his left to his right, nervously comparing the lines, seeing that, indeed, they were different. It wasn’t fair! He had been destined for greatness—his left hand told the story. But life had not dealt him the cards he deserved. William had stolen his thunder, his will, even his courage. William, by drawing him into nefarious schemes, into murder, had even tried to steal his life!
But all that was soon to change. As the door closed behind Maxwell, Sir Ralph allowed the first giggle to escape his lips. He no longer felt in the least tired, but was reeling in exultation. Let William do the work. It was he, Sir Ralph Harewood, who would wear the crown. And he would wear it into eternity!
Paddy Dooley collapsed his rounded body into what was fast becoming his favorite chair and shook his head in disgust as he looked at his friend, who had been stretched out full length on the couch, in Dooley’s mind, long enough to have begun putting down roots. “Is it fixing to crawl into that bottle you’d be, Tommie, my boy? I’m not nosy, you know. I’m only wondering if I should be fetching the chamber pot in from the other room for when you drink enough to start casting up your accounts all over the carpet, for you’ve been pouring that stuff down your gullet since you got home last night. I like that little girl who comes in to tidy up after us, and I wouldn’t want to upset her.”
Thomas, who had been balancing a bottle on his chest, opened one eye to glare balefully at the Irishman. “You don’t understand. I’ve met my match, Paddy,” he said, not without sorrow. “All these years of playing about, setting my wits against men twice my age and winning time and time again—and a female brings me low. It’s embarrassing.”
Paddy nodded his agreement, “How the mighty have fallen,” he said, then grinned. “And what a thrill it is to watch as you go tumbling down into love.”
“Love?” Thomas jackknifed to a sitting position, holding on to his bottle so not a drop of the liquid spilled. “Love is one thing, Paddy. I’ve fallen in love twice in the same week.”
“But this time it’s different, isn’t it, boyo? Ah, but it’s my Bridget who’d be delighted to see you now. She’s been wishing this comedown on you for years.”
“Don’t gloat, Paddy, it doesn’t become you. Yet I suppose it had to happen. All right, I’m truly in love. All men fall sooner or later—although in my case I thought it would be later. Much later. I never even bought her that bauble I was planning to use to dazzle her soft heart.”
He ran a hand through his hair, which, Dooley observed silently, already looked as if it had been combed with a rake. “And to fall so hard, Paddy? So quickly? I hadn’t counted on that. But to have her running rings around me with her keen eyes and quick mind? To love a woman who is capable of setting up rigs like a prime flimflam man, and who dares to tease me with hints that she knows that I’m up to no good? That little girl could teach the devil himself a trick or three! Ah, Paddy, it’s a terrible blow to my consequence, I tell you.” He fell back against the cushions once more. “I don’t know if I’ll survive the shock of the thing.”
“Glory be to God—what a miserable caterwauling.” Dooley pushed himself up from the chair and crossed the room, to take the bottle out of Thomas’s hand. “It’s eight of the clock in the morning. Mark the time, boyo, for you’re back on the water wagon as of now. And, speaking of water, I’ve ordered up a tub. I don’t think I want to look at you again until you’ve had a bath and a long nap. You’re as great a rogue as ever stood in shoe leather, or so you’ve always told me. I’ll ask you to remember that. Are you really going to let one little colleen bring you so low? And what about Madison? What about our mission? Or do rogues in love have no time for anything more important than weeping into their liquor?”