26. From Bitter Rivals to Unlikely Allies #2
“A pattern of behavior—indeed,” Creswell concurred, visibly warming to the notion.
“A separate charge could not be sustained—no court will hear it—but as part of a broader picture, it could prove useful. It paints our dear Rudi in the proper hues—useful in a case built on deceit, drugging, and low thuggery. However, thus far you’ve offered no evidence directly tying Mr. Bittermann to the hound’s injuries. ”
He looked from one to the other. “Did you see him in the park?” he asked Miles. To which he received a shake of the head in reply.
“Did you hear him threaten the dog?” he asked Alex.
“Only that he wished to have it muzzled,” Alex replied.
“When Peri escaped and came to me,” added Miles, “it was Rudi who came storming after him—in a white fury!”
“Well, that is something.” Creswell’s gaze softened marginally. “I do not dismiss your outrage, Mr. Sinclair. Quite the contrary—I intend to use it.” He tapped his fingers together. “What we require is an ironclad strategy.”
He paused, allowing the silence to rise.
“Fortunately,” he said, with an air of supreme satisfaction, “I am devilishly good at those.”
“Then you do understand why Peri’s injuries must not be overlooked. The Bittermanns must be held accountable for every inch of their villainy.”
“I understand, young man, more than that, I agree. If you wish for me to argue this case—and I assume that is why I have been summoned—you must face the facts squarely,” Creswell warned.
“The judiciary is not, by nature, prone to sentiment. Your whippet’s injuries must be presented as part of a larger pattern of cruelty that reflects on the Bittermanns’ character as a whole. ”
“So,” Miles asked, “will you take our case?”
Creswell’s smile was wolfish. “With pleasure,” he said. “Though not, I confess, out of love for animals.”
“We’re not fool enough to have hoped your motives would be altruistic.”
“No, Mr. Sinclair, I am not the sentimental sort, as you well know. But the Bittermanns, for their devilry, are owed their comeuppance, and I daresay I can deliver it.” His expression darkened. “They played me for a fool. It will be a costly mistake for them.”
Johan’s curiosity rose. “They took advantage of you too?”
Creswell toyed with the confiscated dice in his palm.
“Lilith and Rudi had their amusements at my expense,” he admitted.
“They must have laced my drink more times than I care to count—just enough to loosen my tongue, lighten my purse, and render me a most obliging source of entertainment. I’ve woken more than once to find my pockets empty, my debts miraculously doubled.
” He tossed the dice onto the table, watching them tumble reflecting on past humiliations.
“So you see, gentlemen, my investment in their downfall is not merely professional. It is personal.”
“You apprehend the gravity of the situation, then,” Alex said. “This isn’t just about your bruised pride, or even Miles’s debts. It’s about dismantling an operation that preys on the unsuspecting.”
“Rest assured, Lord Sinclair, my motives, however mercenary, align perfectly with yours. Justice will prevail, and the Bittermanns will find their grip—bitter as it may be—irrevocably broken.”
“Now see here, old fellow,” Miles interposed, “if we are to collaborate, there is a matter I should like clarified.”
Creswell arched an eyebrow with polite curiosity.
“Did you betray me to Lilith?”
“Miles—” Alex began warningly. “We are going to let the past be.”
“No,” said the younger man, striding forward and lowering himself onto the chesterfield opposite the barrister.
“I want to know—did you tell Lilith my secret fiancée was a lie? Because if you did,” he insisted, pointing at his sleeping dog, “I lay a great measure of responsibility for Peri’s misfortunes squarely at your door! ”
Creswell’s swiftly working mind grasped the question’s implications: his past intelligence work for Miss Bittermann had been exposed.
Miles kept up the pressure. “You’d be a fool to deny that you were on the hunt to find the lady’s name, for I knew you were.”
Creswell’s expression did not flicker. “What name would you have had me give them, Mr. Sinclair?” he asked.
“The only lady’s name I found connected with yours might have ended up in Lilith’s clutches instead of your dog.
” He let this remark settle, watching its effect as the young man stiffened.
“While I would never condone the brutality inflicted upon your hound, I would rather see—Peri, was it—ensnared by the Bittermanns than Miss Harrington. Would you not agree?”
Miles stood, unable to refute the point, though still laboring under resentment.
“Why didn’t you report their engagement to Lilith?” asked Alex, more obliged to the man than he cared to admit.
Creswell offered a shrug. “I have my reasons, Lord Sinclair.”
Johan now crossed his arms and regarded the barrister. “How will you make all this a costly mistake for the Bittermanns?”
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Creswell’s face. “Why, dear fellow, I propose we give Lilith Bittermann a taste of her own poison.”
Johan grinned. “ Yah , I like the sound of that.”
“Then we have an agreement,” said Alex, his tone authoritative. “See to it that you do not fail us.”
Creswell stood up and took the hand Lord Sinclair held out in a firm grip. “I never fail, Lord Sinclair.”
“Except at charity auctions,“ Alex quipped, a teasing light in his eye.
Unfazed, Creswell countered. “Your brother too, if I remember correctly?”
“I thought we weren’t going to mention Saturday again?” Miles chimed in.
Alex nodded. “My brother has moments of triumph, but auctions are not among them.”
“Well, rest assured, Lord Sinclair, that my talents lie elsewhere,” Creswell said with a slight bow. “I shall return tomorrow with a preliminary outline of my strategy.”
“Very well, Creswell,” Alex replied, his tone softening. “I look forward to seeing what you have planned. Until tomorrow, then.”
“Until tomorrow, gentlemen.” Creswell gave his company one last nod before leaving.
The renowned barrister driven by vengeance had its benefits, as Johan noted later that evening while they played whist, “If the enemy of our enemy is our friend, then Lord Creswell qualifies admirably.”
“He’s insufferable,” Miles muttered, looking at Peri, all bandaged and silent on his cushion. “I can now fully sympathize with Lucinda’s rash lies, to get rid of him. Devil’s advocate, for heaven’s sake!”
“And yet,” Johan added, “he may be the devil we need, yah? His partiality for Miss Harrington was impossible to miss at the charity auction. And I think he revealed himself tonight as well. His gallantries toward the lady might abate were he apprised of her role in the affair.” He eyed both brothers and added, “I imagine her sentiments would not mind the fact at all.”
Miles gave a derisive snort. “You can leave off imagining, Johan. She was sick of him long before that auction—he was just too much a fool to see it.”
“Be that as it may,” Alex reminded them, “Lucinda’s name must not be mentioned.
Not to Creswell, and certainly not in any way that touches this case.
” He discarded a card with precision. “As far as the Bittermanns are concerned, they incarcerated a hapless delivery boy, and that delivery boy made an escape. Nothing more.”
Johan inclined his head in acknowledgment. Miles muttered some indistinct remark regarding the ludicrous notion of Creswell being of use to anyone and turned his attention back to Periwinkle’s dozing.
The game continued, though with rather more contemplative silence than usual.
Johan pondered if a real boy could be persuaded to testify on Miss Harrington’s behalf if only to secure a conviction against the Bittermanns that would finally hold.
Miles muttered something under his breath about the absurdity of Creswell being useful to anyone, and Alex kept his thoughts to himself, his gaze resting on his cards but his mind elsewhere.
Throughout it all, Periwinkle dozed, in the cozy fire’s warmth. His torso and limbs, all shrouded in bandages, presented a very pathetic picture. Now and then, one drowsy eye would lift at his master’s voice, only to shutter once more, yielding to the embrace of peaceful slumber.