Chapter 5
“His coat looks shinier,” said Tobias from the path beside where Edward was riding.
He jerked in surprise, earning a snort from Tencendor. The stallion didn’t bolt despite his own nerves; he’d be kept in clover no matter how many other men’s wives Dick Stone would need to seed.
“I gave my boy some eggs with his feed as a treat,” said Edward, swinging down from the saddle so he could talk to his friend.
The kid looked more bedraggled than usual, which was saying something.
“You could bathe in the Serpentine with the other lads,” said Edward, nodding across the park. “Provided it’s outside of the hours when ladies visit. Wouldn’t want to give them an eyeful.”
Tobias hummed noncommittally.
“What happened? You get into a scrape?”
“Just fell into a puddle. Do I smell so bad?”
“Not outdoors. But don’t show up at my rooms like that. Mrs. Chaffinch would love to dunk you in a lice remedy, no doubt.”
Tobias shivered and stroked Tencendor’s muzzle.
“How was the baron? And his wife?” Tobias asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Surprising,” said Edward, entirely honest. “You discover anything about them?”
The lad paused and studied the gravel path. “It’s all very strange.”
Edward pulled a carrot from the pocket of his riding jacket and offered it to his horse. “What is?”
“Did you get the sense that the baron is hard up for funds?”
Lord Edward thought back to that bank draft of considerable heft he’d deposited without complications days before and the fine state of the furnishings in the Dalpole residence.
“I’ve seen nothing of the sort. Quite the opposite, in truth.”
“I thought the same,” said Tobias. “But he’s been quietly collecting sums at his club. I overheard one swell say it was a sad thing for a man of Dalpole’s stature to fall on such hard times, but he wouldn’t miss the show for the world. Most curious.”
Lord Edward huffed a mix of cough and laugh, suddenly getting a sense of what the baron had been suggesting as he’d left the other night.
My goodness, Dalpole was a degenerate — a positive, in his eyes — of the highest degree.
He was putting it about that the family had fallen financially so they could continue to live in the first state of fashion thanks to donations from other members of their class?
It was a move worthy of his old commander, Wellington, had the man been a villain rather than a hero.
But for the ton to feast on the Dalpoles’ financial ruin, they would need to be visibly ruined — and last he checked, there was no such evidence to be found.
Strange, to say the least. Well, he’d happily fuck the man’s wife once more and leave them to their machinations.
“Was the lady pretty?” asked Tobias, eyeing the carrot Tencendor had been enjoying hopefully.
“The baroness? A fertile goddess, blooming and swollen, we—I shouldn’t be telling a lad such things.”
“Why not?” the lad asked.
“Gotta leave some things for you to find out when you’re older. Wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise.”
“I already told you I’ve come across plenty of rogering.”
“Yes, I know. But somehow, it feels wrong to say this to you.”
“‘Tis silly, and you know it.”
“You’re not incorrect,” he said, throwing an arm around his friend’s thin shoulders companionably. “But if there’s one thing I learned in war, it’s trusting one’s instincts.”
“And your instincts tell you to be as fussy as a vicar?”
Edward groaned and ran his knuckles over the back of the kid’s filthy hair. “No, I just think that if you have to know so much, it shouldn’t be because I told you. Feels wrong.”