Chapter 3
“Close the curtains, Tobias,” said Lord Edward from where he was recovering on his boarding house bed.
It was a step up from the grim place in which he’d been living immediately after returning home from the war, but it had the added complication of bourgeois respectability, namely in the form of Mrs. Chaffinch, his landlady.
“Now, don’t think I don’t see you,” she said, poking her head around the door through which Tobias had entered.
Tobias swung through a rickety window without attracting attention at Edward’s former residence, but the Cheapside establishment was well-maintained, and the application of morals was firm.
Edward groaned under the wadded-up cravat that was serving as an eyeshade. “I’ve told you a thousand times, Mrs. Chaffinch: Tobias is a friend. He visits me to talk and deliver food when I’m ill. Nothing untoward is happening at your residence.”
She huffed and bustled around, dusting Edward’s scant belongings before bringing in a modest tea tray.
When Tobias fell upon the biscuits, she rapped his knuckles and slanted him a meaningful look. The lad had the sense to back away, at least until she closed the door.
“You visited Dalpole. What did you learn?” asked Tobias. Of course he knew what Edward had been up to; he was the most connected lad in the entire city.
Edward rose from bed, three days having passed since his headache began at the hands and mouth of Baroness Dalpole. He chose his words carefully.
“The happy couple may enjoy certain activities that would prove degrading to another husband and wife,” said Edward, selecting a finger sandwich and lying back against the pillows.
Tobias regarded him blankly.
Edward looked at his friend, wondering how much he could reveal. “You still don’t know how old you are?”
“Old enough to know when you’re holding out on me, old man,” said Tobias, happily feasting on tea cakes.
Of course he’d be cursed with a sidekick too clever by half, Edward groused internally.
“There are times a man and a woman—”
“Gesù, I know about copulation!” cried Tobias, tears in his eyes from suppressed laughter. “Pass any alley between here and the Dials, and you’ll see at least one daylight rogering.”
Edward grumbled at his friend’s raillery and cooption of his favored exclamation. He swiped another finger sandwich — liver because he knew Tobias couldn’t stomach it — and regarded the kid.
“I think the Dalpoles enjoy, well, sharing Mrs. Dalpole.”
Tobias blinked.
“With other men. I think they enjoy her doing things with men who aren’t her husband.”
Tobias stopped chewing.
“While her husband watches.”
And then he sputtered, choking on the tea cake he’d been eating, which was attempting to make its way down the wrong pipe when he’d inhaled quickly because of shock.
“See, this is why I didn’t want to tell you!” exclaimed Edward while whacking the kid on the back.
“It’s just—”
They went back and forth until Tobias drew out his flask and gulped down a large quantity of water.
When Tobias had recovered himself, he sat at the foot of Edward’s bed, enjoying a cup of lukewarm tea and trying to wrap his head around the situation.
“You mean to tell me that the lady did things while her husband watched?” he asked.
“Surreptitiously observed, yes,” said Edward from under his cravat eye mask again.
“And he didn’t chase you out of the house with a pistol? Didn’t threaten you with a suit for criminal conversation?”
“Now, how do you know about crim con?” asked Edward, with a wry smile on his lips. The kid was sharper than he let on.
“I read,” sniffed Tobias.
“Don’t let Mrs. Chaffinch hear that you study the scandal papers. She’ll box your ears.”
“She’s not my mother,” the lad scoffed, pouring another cup of tea.
“No, I didn’t get chased out of the house,” said Edward. “In fact, the man himself saw me out and invited me for dinner next week. I half jumped out of my skin seeing him without a wall between us, but he was perfectly amiable.”
“As he should be, given that you tupped his wife for his pleasure.”
“His wife’s mouth,” corrected Edward without thinking.
The kid grew quiet for a moment before picking the conversation back up. “You going to go?”
“To dinner? I suppose so. Would likely be a good meal.”
Edward thought he heard muttering along the lines of “for someone.”
“Will you do me a favor, Tobias?” Edward asked, feeling about for his friend’s hand.
The lad took his hand in his own and shook it manfully. “At your service.”
“Will you try to discover what else has been said about Dalpole and his wife? I can’t help but feel that this whole thing is more complicated than they’re letting on.”
“What do you suspect?”
“I suspect I’m going to die,” said Edward honestly. “But I think that about everything, so it’s not a good sign of what’s going to happen.”
Before departing, Tobias patted his hand and ensured the cravat was positioned correctly.
“I’ll take care of it, Dick Stone.”