Chapter Twenty-Three
Rhys picked up his coffee and looked over at Matthew, who sat across from him.
“I went by Lady Awbrey’s house and was told by her staff that she has been visiting her sister’s family since Christmastide.
Perhaps she is more astute than the others were and has decided to put some space between herself and the duke. ”
Matthew nodded and drank his coffee.
“I will put one of the lads on her house to monitor when she gets back in town. For now, that’s all I can do,” Rhys said.
“Too bad we can’t find a way to stop this bastard. We know he is as bad as the rest of them,” Matthew muttered.
“I agree. I will figure something out.”
The door opened, and Ben came into the room. “This just came for you, Seaton.” He handed over a folded missive. “The man was wearing Hartwick livery.”
Rhys frowned. “I was just over there this morning.” He ran a finger through the seal and unfolded the note.
Hartwick’s perfectly formed scrawl bled across the page as though he had dashed the note off in a hurry.
Once Rhys read it, he understood why. “Hart’s lady is finally having the baby.
She has been in labor all day.” He stood.
“Well, lads, I must go. The man will be a disaster, waiting for that babe to be born.”
Matthew chuckled. “See you later then.”
Rhys smirked. “You shouldn’t laugh. Your lady is next, Reeves.”
Matthew’s smile disappeared as he visibly gulped. “She has done it before. She’ll be fine.” The last bit came out more like a question than a statement.
“She will,” Rhys confirmed. He grabbed his cap and headed out.
Walking across town, he enjoyed the bustle of early evening traffic.
The racket of carriage wheels, the hawking of goods from the cart vendors in Piccadilly, the smell of roasting meat coming from behind the Stag’s Head Inn.
The cold of February had bled into a chilly March.
No longer did the cold bite at the cheeks, but there was still enough damp chill to require an overcoat.
He thought about Violet and how she always had her hands stuffed into that fur muff.
Her long, delicate fingers were so elegant, and that little gold ring—seeing it on her thumb sent such warm pleasure throughout his chest. Like somehow it meant she wished she were his.
Ridiculous. He shook his head to clear his fanciful thoughts. She was not meant for the likes of him.
Rhys tipped his cap to Sally Mae, who sold her delicious meat pies from a cart on the corner of Bedford and High Streets. “Evening, Sally. Good money today?”
Sally and he had grown up together at the Birdcage.
She had a successful bakery business, but instead of renting a storefront, she had a nice little house in Soho Square where she baked her goods.
Each morning, she delivered fresh bread to fancy houses in Mayfair, and every evening she hawked her meat pies to people heading home from their jobs.
“Always. My pies are the talk of the town.” She winked at him. “Hungry?”
He shook his head. “Nah, headed to visit my brother. His wife’s having her baby.”
“Good luck to her,” Sally said.
Rhys arrived in St. James Square just as the sun disappeared.
He was shown into Hart’s study and found his brother pacing in front of the fireplace.
In a leather chair nearby sat the husband of Lucy’s and Violet’s friend, Adeline.
What was his name? Rhys crossed the room.
“Going to wear a hole right through that carpet. Such a shame, since I know it’s new,” Rhys said.
Hart spun around and met him halfway across the room with his hand outstretched. “Didn’t expect to see you, Seaton.”
Rhys shrugged. “Figured you could use some distraction while you wait.”
“Thanks.” Hart thumped him on the arm. “Come on in. Let me introduce Lord Kingsbury. He is Adeline’s husband. Kingsbury, this is Rhys Seaton, my half brother.”
Kingsbury rose. “I remember you from when Adeline was attacked.”
Rhys nodded. “I am glad they were able to get you out of the clink at Whitehall.”
“Me too.” Kingsbury grinned. “I have been trying to distract Hart, but the pacing has not stopped. I fear I am not as entertaining as I think I am.”
Rhys turned to his brother. “How’s your lady doing?”
“I don’t know. It’s been forever since someone last came and told me what the hell is going on.” Hart crossed to the mantel and snatched up a glass of brandy. He took a measured sip before setting it back next to the clock.
“He has been nursing that one glass for hours now,” Kingsbury said.
“This is no time to get drunk. She might need me.”
Kingsbury sat back down in his chair. “For what? This business is for women. There is nothing you can do. Don’t worry, the doctor and the midwife are attending to her, and they said things were moving along swimmingly.”
“But that was two hours ago. She has been up there all afternoon. How long does it take to have a baby?” Hartwick replied.
“Could take all night,” Rhys said. “Especially for the first one.”
Both men stared at him with surprise. Rhys shrugged.
“What? Growing up in a house full of women, you learn plenty. As a boy, I saw three babies being born. My job was to fetch fresh water from the pump down the street. Lucy is tough, the strongest lady that I know. If anyone can push out a fine Hartwick boy, it’ll be her. ”
Hart slumped into the closest chair. He ran a hand down over his face. “I hope you’re right. Although I am hoping for a girl. I know I am supposed to want an heir and all that, but a little girl with her mother’s bright blue eyes would be so sweet. Daft, right?”
Rhys shook his head. “You always were a ladies’ man.” He settled himself on the settee and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles. This would probably be a long evening. “Kingsbury, when did you and your wife get into town?”
“Just two days ago. Adeline wanted to be here to help with the baby. Guess we timed it just right. What have you been up to? Still acquiring secrets from inside ancient statues?”
Rhys bared his teeth. The man had a bite behind that affable smile. Rhys respected it. “No, I am out of the espionage business. The only things I acquire these days are for my auction house—furniture, paintings, and such.”
“Well, that’s good to know,” Hart said. “I was worried about your involvement in that bit of treason that Rawlings was party to.”
Hart was always the upstanding citizen. Rhys decided to share a small piece, just to lay his brother’s worry to rest. “The information was retrieved on the behest of the crown. It was to keep those names from reaching our enemies.”
Kingsbury leaned forward. “So, you work for the crown?”
Rhys held up a hand. “Used to work for the crown. Circumstances have changed. I am handling one last thing, a promise made to a man whom I respected.”
“Damn, and I thought you were a criminal.”
“Used to be that as well.” He glanced at Hart. “I was a fixer. Handled problems others didn’t want to.”
The clear blue skies and crisp wind that blew over the hill that long-ago day Fleming had called him in to remove two bodies were as fresh in his memory as if it had happened yesterday.
He’d arrived on the scene to find his father and older brother both shot through the heart.
Not that anyone else knew that the two were his kin.
Rhys had done his job and moved their bodies into a coach, then made it all look like a robbery in a bad part of town.
It wasn’t until a week later that he learned his father had known who he was, and in his will had left him a piece of property that had enabled him to create the life he had now.
He shook himself free of the memories. No use dwelling on death.
“Have you made any headway figuring out what the Duke of Lavensham is up to?”
“Lavensham?” Kingsbury’s frown deepened as he spat out the name.
“Yes, I was asked to find out and stop Lavensham from doing something. But the man died before he could tell me the details.”
“Fleming,” Hartwick murmured.
Rhys tilted his head. “How do you figure?”
“You were with him that day when he came to explain about the Knot of Isis club. Also, he was there the day of the duel. And he recently died. You worked for him?”
Rhys nodded.
Hart’s expression remained contemplative. “The Duke of Fleming was on the Foreign Affairs Committee.”
“Yes. But now that he is dead, I do not have to be the fixer. I am free to live my life as I see fit. But I will always appreciate him scooping me up off the street and training me to be the man I am now. I promised him I would stop Lavensham, and I will.”
“That fucking boyhood club. Lavensham was one of my father’s friends.” Kingsbury’s expression was grim. “Lavensham and some of the others took advantage of my older brother after my father died, feeding his compulsion to gamble and ruining him financially.”
The revelation didn’t surprise Rhys in the least. It was true that all the men in the Knot of Isis were rotten.
Even his and Hart’s father hadn’t been a paragon of respectability.
“Thanks to Elizabeth, I found out that all of Lavensham’s mistresses over the last ten years have met untimely deaths.
Suicide, accidental drowning, and so forth.
I think what Fleming was asking me to do was warn Lavensham’s current mistress.
Help her to leave him. But she has been out of town visiting her sister since Christmastide. So, safe for now.”
Both men nodded.
He still needed to figure out how to permanently stop Lavensham. Certainly, the man would find himself another woman to victimize. Across the room, the door opened, and in a whoosh of dove-gray skirts, Violet came into the room.
All three men stood.
Hart stepped forward. “What news?”
Violet smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. In fact, something akin to panic shone in the brown depths. “Lucy is doing fine. She is tired, but they say she is ready to begin pushing the baby out.”