Loving The Lost Duke (Dangerous Deceptions #1)(35)
Which would not be too bad, because she wouldn’t tell him who the man concerned was. But if Jonathan carried out his threats and spread the story, then Cal would hunt him down and kill him, she was quite certain of that.
The scandal would be enormous. She would be ruined, Cal would have to flee the country, or at the very least, face court. She supposed a duke might have a good chance of evading the death penalty for a killing in the course of a duel, but she would not want to wager on it.
Her parents had heard unsavoury rumours about Jonathan before, so perhaps he had seduced, or ravished other young women. If she could discover something criminal about him, something that would not bring shame on anyone else, then she would have a lever against him.
So, how did one go about finding an enquiry agent? Toby, of course. He would help.
Sophie penned the note asking him to call, then went to bed and lay awake wondering what to tell her old friend. Not the truth, that was for sure, because Toby would be after Jonathan the moment he heard and he was equally inept with both pistols and rapier. She couldn’t live with herself if Toby was hurt, or worse, helping her.
‘Oh what tangled webs we weave, when first we practice to deceive,’ she murmured, wriggling down under the covers. This had begun because she was a romantic, an innocent, had become worse because she had discovered an unexpected talent for revenge and now she was hiding her ex-lover’s name from her husband-to-be, her blackmailer’s name from her best friend and concocting an elaborate lie to get him to help her find an enquiry agent. And when she had found one, then she had to visit him without letting Mama guess anything was wrong in the slightest.
And pay him. Somehow. This was becoming hideously complicated.
‘You want a what?’ Toby stared, open-mouthed. ‘I honestly do not think that’s a good idea. I mean, the fellow has hardly been back in Town a few weeks. Surely he hasn’t had time to set up a little ladybird, too busy. And even if he has, best not to know about things like that, my Mama always says.’
‘Toby, darling, what on earth are you talking about?’
‘Calderbrook’s mistresses.’
‘Mistresses? He has got more than one?’ He has any?
‘As far as I know he hasn’t got a mistress, that’s what I am trying to say. Don’t get into a tizzy and snap at me, Sophie. I haven’t got one either.’
‘I don’t care about your mistresses, Toby, other to hope that you find a nice one. And I certainly do not want to track down Calderbrook’s light of love, if he has one. This is about a friend of mine who is falling for a man, but she is worried about rumours she’s heard and wants to find out if they are true.’
‘Well, so long as you don’t want me interfering in Calderbrook’s private life.’ Toby gave an exaggerated shudder and flung himself into the nearest armchair. ‘He’d run me though if he found out, although I suspect he would tear my head off first or set that sinister swordmaster of his on me. So what’s the name of this shady cove? I’ll find out about him for you.’
‘I can’t tell you that. If he is perfectly innocent and marries my friend, then you will know who she is and I am sworn to secrecy.’
‘Ah, good point.’ Toby frowned and lapsed into silence, brooding. Sophie curbed her impatience and waited. He was not a great thinker and it was usually best to leave the cogs to grind slowly round in their own time.
‘I know.’ He sat up abruptly. ‘Finchingfield was convinced someone was cheating at cards and set this man on him. Sure enough, tracked him back to York and found he’d been run out of town for running crooked games. Now what was his name? Frogmore, that’s it.’
‘The agent?’
‘No, the card sharp.’
‘I need the agent’s name and direction, Toby.’ Patience. You can’t strangle him now, you need him.
‘Ah. Right. I’ll go and find Finchingfield, he’s bound to be at White’s. Won’t be long.’ He went out, then put his head back round the door. ‘Has your cook got any of those macarons, do you think? The almond ones?’
‘I’ll get her to make some.’ Sophie lobbed a cushion at him. ‘Now, go!’
Cal stood on the pavement outside 32, Ludgate Hill and studied the items displayed in the window of Rundell, Bridge and Rundell. Jewellers and Goldsmiths to Their Majesties, it said above the door under the array of royal crests, which should be good enough for a duchess.
The strong boxes at the bank were stuffed with gems and jewellery that would be Sophie’s for her lifetime as soon as the knot was tied, but he wanted to buy her something chosen for her, not anything like the ponderous stuff he recalled from all the family portraits.
He could go in and as soon as they realised who he was they would be prostrating themselves in their eagerness to lay things out for him, but he wanted to have some ideas about what Sophie would like best before he entered. Sapphires would suit her, of course, and in his pocket he had a packet of uncut Burmese stones that he’d bought in India that he wanted to consult the jewellers about, but aquamarines would be prettier, lighter. Perhaps something in aquamarines and pearls, for day wear?
He found he liked the bustle of the City. People had purpose and the juxtaposition of the great cathedral of St Paul’s, just up the hill from where he stood, made a dramatic contrast with the lowering presence of the Newgate and Fleet prisons and the Old Bailey. Distantly there were sounds from the river to add to the mix and he would walk down to it past the Bridewell when he had completed his business and didn’t have a small fortune of gemstones in his pocket.