A Masquerade in the Moonlight(91)
“You’re perspiring, Perry,” the earl said smoothly, so that Sir Peregrine quickly remembered that it was not yet tomorrow—that today he still belonged to William Renfrew. “You haven’t any bad news for me, have you? Everything is still going forward as planned?”
“Of course it is, William,” Sir Peregrine hastened to assure him, knowing the dependable Grouse had all the proper papers ready for his signature. “Or at least it would be if that pigheaded Irishman would only turn over the letter from Madison. He’s proving devilish sticky on that point. But surely Ralph has already told you as much.”
“He has,” the earl said quietly, and Sir Peregrine watched him intently, marveling at the way the man could speak without opening his mouth. His cracked jaw must still be quite painful. That bothersome Irishman was worth something, Sir Peregrine thought, indulging himself just for a moment in the joy of seeing William discommoded.
“But you’re the one I trust, Perry,” he heard Laleham continue. “We’re entering a very difficult, ticklish stage of the negotiations, and I need to assure myself you will keep an eye out for our best interests.”
Sir Peregrine mentally berated himself for thinking badly of William. The earl trusted him. Trusted him more than he did Ralph, who had always been closest to him. Sir Peregrine smiled. Of course William trusted him. Wasn’t he the one with the real brains, the only one with the intelligence to not only carry out the plan, but also become a vital part of the new world order that plan would evoke?
“Why, thank you, William. I’m honored. Ralph is a good man, but rather too closemouthed about his own affairs sometimes, perhaps to the detriment of our plans,” Sir Peregrine said, then bowed—but not too low. It wouldn’t do to look subservient. “If there is anything else I can do to ease your trepidations—anything at all...” He let his words die away, awaiting further instructions, further responsibilities.
“Possibly, Perry. Possibly. Can you keep a secret?”
“Yes, yes, certainly,” Sir Peregrine answered quickly. Of course he could keep a secret. He had kept his mouth shut about Geoffrey Balfour, hadn’t he? What larger secret could there be? Everything else they had done over the years paled into insignificance beside the secret of Geoffrey Balfour. Unless, of course, he was to consider the knowledge of his soon-to-be triumphant entry into the world of scientific discovery.
“Very well, Perry,” Laleham said, rising. He walked to the doorway, then turned and looked piercingly at Sir Peregrine. “I am considering removing Ralph from his position once the full contingent of fifteen ships has sailed, and replacing him with a man I know I can trust. A man like you. In the meantime, I want you to watch him, for I believe he may be entertaining thoughts of cutting us out with the American. Will you watch him for me, Perry?”
“I would be honored!” Sir Peregrine’s thin chest puffed with pride as William smiled a thin, painful smile.
Thomas found Lord Mappleton and Sir Ralph Harewood walking together along Bond Street, Lord Mappleton red-faced as he attempted to keep up with Sir Ralph’s longer strides.
“Good day to you, gentleman!” Thomas chirped cheerfully, touching the brim of his hat to them in greeting, while longing to kill them both on the spot. They had something to do with Marguerite’s unhappiness—precisely what, he didn’t know—but it was enough that they had incurred her anger. He hadn’t had the foggiest notion of what he would say when he met up with any of them, but he’d felt an overwhelming need to see at least a few of them today, look at them closely, and hope to begin to understand why Marguerite hated them so much—perhaps even feared them.
“Donovan,” Sir Ralph returned evenly, barely inclining his head.
“I was so hoping I’d find one of you out taking this lovely afternoon air,” Thomas told them frankly. “How is the most estimable Miss Rollins, your lordship? She was looking quite ravishing on your arm last night at Lady Jersey’s.”
“What? What? Didn’t see you, Dudley. O’course, don’t see much of anyone, now that I’ve my wealthy—er, my pretty Georgianna to gaze at, eh, Ralph? You ought to think about finding yourself a rich wife, Ralph. It would do you no end of good to smile once and again. But then, you’re already rich as Croesus, aren’t you? Not that you spend a penny of it. I spend entirely too much, keeping up with Prinny, but I’ve enjoyed every debt I’ve ever incurred, stap me if I haven’t!”