Chapter 24
Eamon returned Sam’s money the next evening, once more in Maiden Lane.
Sam scowled at him across his table. “Ye should have sent word and waited for my courier.”
“I wanted no chance it wouldn’t reach you.” Eamon plunked himself down on the bench and pushed a brown-paper parcel to Sam.
“If a footpad had followed ye, I’d even now be watching your body be pulled out of the Thames.”
“I’m a little more careful than that.” Eamon accepted the strong brandy brought to him but didn’t drink.
In truth, he’d noted plenty of shadows slipping after him when he’d departed Colonel Harper’s, leaving the painting there, and sought a hackney. And again, when he’d left the hackney in the Strand and walked up narrow streets to Maiden Lane.
Had thieves of the underworld known about his transaction and the funds he’d been carrying? Or was he being followed for different reasons?
Once he’d ducked into the tavern and walked straight to Sam, his trackers had lost interest.
“Don’t be cocksure, lad,” Sam warned. “Some will roll you for a penny. This is all of it?” He rested his hand on the packet.
“Every pound, shilling, and pence, plus your ruinous fee.”
Colonel Harper had been surprised Eamon wanted a cash transaction, instead of letting his man of business and Leo’s handle the sale, but he hadn’t questioned him. Eamon had left Colonel Harper gushing gratitude to Caro, the dowager, and the young duke, and turned to paying his debts.
Sam slid the package out of sight under the table, complimenting Eamon by not opening it and counting the money.
“What would ye have done if ye couldn’t have repaid me?” Sam asked with curiosity.
Eamon grinned. “First of all, I had no doubt. Second, I’d direct you to take the cash out of Clive.
I gave him a thousand guineas—that was your loan plus generous donations from other friends and what I could raise myself.
If you went after Clive, you could have your cut back, and more, for your trouble. ”
“Pah.” Sam made a face. “He’s a pustule on the world’s backside. Why the devil did you give him a thousand pounds?”
“To purchase something worth far more than that. I’ve made my investment back, never worry.” Caro’s face this evening when she realized Eamon would return to her house with twenty-five hundred guineas was payment enough.
“Ye should have told me,” Sam growled. “I’d have done Clive over and given you whatever it was for nothing.”
“Generous of you, but I needed a legitimate sale between legitimate buyers, with paperwork and the like. A legal trail. It’s important.”
“I see.” Sam’s eyes twinkled as he raised his tankard to his lips. “I hope the lady you’ve been going on about is worth it.”
“She is, indeed,” Eamon said warmly. “I told you, I plan to save her life.”
Sam’s skepticism returned. “And she’ll reward you by marrying you? Only happens in stories, lad. Either that, or you’re stuck with a shrew and regret being such a gentleman.”
Eamon sat back, enjoying himself. “I write my own tales. They turn out how I like.”
“That arrogance will take you down in the end,” Sam said darkly. “Mark my words.”
“As I say, I’ll invite you to the wedding.”
“Kind of you, lad, but such a lady will never let me in the door.”
“She will.” Eamon was certain of it. “She has the kindest heart and loveliest face of anybody you will ever meet.”
“Has she now?” Sam gave him a frank stare. “Then why hasn’t another gent already snapped her up?”
“Many complications,” Eamon said, his enthusiasm dimming slightly. “A few more obstacles to navigate. But worth it in the end.”
“It had better be.” Sam took a noisy slurp of brandy. “Good luck to ye, is all I can say, since you won’t take my advice and run far away.”
“I won’t,” Eamon assured him. He never wanted to be further from Caro again than he was at this moment.
“In that case, I will go to your wedding,” Sam said. “See this miracle for myself.”
“You won’t regret it, Sam.”
“I already do.” Sam set down his glass and wiped his mouth. “But you’re a good lad, Stone. If anyone deserves a little happiness, it’s you. God go with you, my boy.”
Eamon left the tavern for the dark street, clapping on his hat and settling his coat. He walked toward Covent Garden, whistling cheerily.
He knew they’d waylay him in the darkness between Covent Garden and where he hoped to pick up a hackney in Long Acre. It stood to reason they’d wait until after he’d visited Sam and be off his guard, and would gamble that he had more money in his pockets than what he’d given Sam.
They’d be incorrect, though even the clothes on Eamon’s back would fetch a good price.
Eamon had his knife out, his back to the wall before they rushed him. There were three men, all with foul-smelling breath and evil in their eyes.
They didn’t bother taunting him or demanding he hand over his coin. They simply attacked.
Eamon fought hard. He wasn’t so much bothered about any coins he carried as he was surviving to live another day. Sam was right that his arrogance might mean he was one more body in the Thames for the River Police to find.
One of the men cried out, and then he was mysteriously gone. A second grunted, and Eamon found himself one-on-one with the remaining attacker. The man glanced behind him worriedly, allowing Eamon to land a good punch on his jaw.
The assailant snarled and redoubled his assault. Eamon jabbed and struck, his knife held in a steady hand. The knife forced the man to duck and dodge, though he continued to rain blows down on Eamon.
Swearing in a strong Shetland accent came to him, along with annoyed mutters that signaled the presence of another former soldier. Wolfe’s physician often admonished him about overusing his bad leg, but Wolfe just as often ignored him.
Between the three of them, they wore the ruffians down. Eamon’s man stayed the longest, but when Eamon’s knife came close to his eyes, he backed off and lumbered into the dark lane from whence he and his friends had come. Booted footsteps retreated into the night.
“Didn’t bring any slow matches, did you?” McCormick asked, his grin flashing.
“Unfortunately, no.” Eamon caught his breath as he slid the knife back into his pocket. “Or powder either.”
“If you two are finished congratulating yourselves,” Wolfe growled. “It’s best we get indoors. You can thank us with an ale later, Stone.”
McCormick had already raced off, whistling for the nearest hackney. One turned from the end of the street, McCormick climbing aboard as it passed.
“Thank you for springing to my aid,” Eamon said as the hackney neared. “Very timely.”
“We weren’t risking you losing all our cash.”
The hackney halted. McCormick opened the door for them, and Wolfe more or less heaved Eamon inside before climbing in behind him.
“No fear,” Eamon said as the hackney pulled away. “Your money is tucked safely away, as is Caro’s share.”
“Tucked away where?” Wolfe asked with his usual suspicion. He dropped to the seat beside McCormick and opposite Eamon. “In a box under your bed?”
“I left it with Colonel Harper,” Eamon informed them. “I’ll fetch it tomorrow. I never planned to swan about London with Caro’s funds in my pocket. I’m an idiot, but not that much of one.”
“Notice he doesn’t mention our hard-earned funds,” McCormick said as the hackney bumped along St. Martin’s Lane.
“I had noticed.” Wolfe nodded.
“You’ll have your money tomorrow, gentlemen,” Eamon assured them. “Shall I call on you, or do you want to meet at the office of your man of business, Wolfe?”
“Leave it with Kennedy,” Wolfe said. “McCormick and I will fetch it for ourselves.”
“A sensible arrangement,” Eamon said. “Then you can worry about thieves trying to relieve it from you, and I will retire to the nearest pub for refreshment.”
“Were they common robbers, do you think?” McCormick asked, cutting through Eamon’s banter. “Following you about, thinking you had a few coins to rub together?”
“No.” Eamon recognized hired thugs when he saw them. Less desperate, more determined. “I believe they came courtesy of His Grace’s cousin.”
McCormick scowled. “I thought that might be the case. We have to do something about that bastard.”
“Not a bastard,” Wolfe broke in. “He’s a legitimate heir. Berridge will be duke, no matter what his actions, if anything happens to Leo.”
“Then we must make certain Leo grows up to be happily married and produce seven sons of his own,” Eamon said firmly. “I’ll never let Rudyard stand in the way of Leo having the life he deserves.”
“A cause I can strive for,” Wolfe said with a nod. “Berridge is an idiot who should be revealed as such.”
“I am pleased I can count on your assistance.” The fact that Eamon had such friends warmed him, though he’d never embarrass them with these sentiments.
He’d been very much alone when he’d been deposited at Hallbridge, but adversity had found him two fellow castaways who’d become like brothers to him.
“You will always have my help,” McCormick promised. “You didn’t make much out of this deal, though, with the painting, did you? Once you’ve paid us back and taken the lion’s share to young Leo, there isn’t much left over for you, is there?”
“It’s enough.” Eamon’s share was minuscule compared to what he’d borrowed from McCormick, Wolfe, and Sam to obtain the painting, but it was plenty for what he would purchase with it.
McCormick studied him quizzically, but Eamon kept his silence.
“Are you certain of this?” Caro regarded Lady Carmichael with a mixture of hope and revulsion. If what Lady Carmichael said was true, Rudyard was the most heinous of men.
“Of course I’m certain,” Lady Carmichael returned in indignation. “I wouldn’t have said so, otherwise.”
The two sat in Lady Carmichael’s large and luxurious drawing room in South Audley Street, where Caro had been summoned to take tea.
Caro had expected a formal gathering, but Lady Carmichael’s maid, who’d helped restore Caro’s coiffure at the ball, had ushered her into an elegant room on an upper floor where Lady Carmichael waited alone.
Another maid carried in a tray with tea things and an array of small cakes and left them to it.
Lady Carmichael took a sip of tea and continued.
“That young man is swindling half the haut ton. Not me, of course. My money is well secured, and I’d never invest it in anything for any reason.
Fools, the lot of them, but they thought they’d be safe with a duke’s heir.
Why, I couldn’t say. The Berridges were never clever with money. ”
“But you said some people benefitted nicely,” Caro said, trying to understand.
Lady Carmichael’s story tallied with some of the things she’d learned through Jo and Louise and their connections, but it was still puzzling.
“Which means some shares went up and others down. I believe that happens with stocks, does it not?”
“Yes, but not with the exact same ones at the exact same time,” Lady Carmichael scoffed.
“If Lady Featherbrain invests in canals and loses her money but Lady Feeblewit invests in the same canals and rakes in a forty-percent profit, that raises many questions about these shares. Such as, are they real at all? What does Berridge actually do with the investments?”
Caro had never needed to be shrewd about stocks and shares, but she did know that high returns were unusual. Either people were far over-investing, as had happened with the notorious South Sea Bubble of the last century, or there was something shady going on.
“Who could tell me?” Caro asked, though she was more or less musing out loud. She wasn’t certain Lady Carmichael would have an answer.
“Rudyard’s man of business,” Lady Carmichael said at once.
“Or your son’s. Make them both dig into what Rudyard is doing.
I will also dig. I never invest myself, as I say, but I keep an eye on the markets.
I’ll send my own man to find out exactly what are stocks these people believe they’re buying and how Rudyard is covering them.
Do not worry, Caro, dear. We will discover all. ”
Caro had no doubt Lady Carmichael would. When the woman was determined, not even all of Emperor Bonaparte’s army could have stopped her.
Unfortunately, Lady Carmichael turned that determination on Caro in the next moment.
“Now then, what about you and this picture man? The one who has been ferreting through the duke’s things since your former curator deserted you? I hear he watches you like a lost sheep. Do you reciprocate his sentiments?”