Chapter Ten
It was just past noon the next day, when Sebastian arrived at White’s.
After a meal of cold roast beef, cheese and pickle, he settled in the main room and declared it not too early for a brandy.
The drink had just arrived, when Julian appeared and took the seat beside him.
He signalled the waiter for a glass of his own and said without preamble, ‘What did you do to Rutland?’
‘Me?’ He gave his friend a blank look.
‘Do not pretend. You ruined him. How? To what purpose?’
‘He ruined himself,’ Sebastian said, taking a sip.
‘None of the rumours that have been spread about him were lies. And there are juicer stories than a few gambling debts, if you wish to hear them. But they were not necessary to accomplish his removal to the country. Thus, he was spared their revelation.’
‘How did you learn of them?’
‘Last night at the Ashton rout. Everyone was speaking of it.’ He took another sip.
‘You would not be caught dead at the Ashton rout without a good reason. You came to spread gossip, not to hear it.’
Sebastian held up his hands in surrender. ‘He did not make good on a marker he left at Sally Green’s. He is lucky I covered it for him before she sent someone to break his legs. In exchange for the payment, she told me everything there was to hear.’
‘Humph.’ Julian’s drink arrived and he took a long sip. ‘That does not answer the why of it.’ He gave Sebastian a side-eyed glare. ‘What were you doing in the maze at the Montpellier?’
‘What does anyone do in the maze at the Montpellier?’ he said. The answer was not usually ‘spy on others’. But Julian did not need the full truth. He just needed enough to set his mind at rest. ‘I heard a lady in distress.’
‘Distress?’ Julian was frowning, but it was no longer at him.
‘Nothing too severe. She said, “No”. The man she was with did not respond as he should have. I intervened.’
‘Cassandra said nothing of this,’ Julian said, his anger turning to worry.
‘She was not hurt,’ he said hurriedly. ‘She was ashamed, although I told her there was no reason to be. It was not her idea to go into the maze, after all.’
Now it was Julian who was embarrassed, flushing pink as he tried to hide behind his brandy. ‘She told me off after you left.’
‘Good for her,’ Sebastian said, offering a toast to her before drinking again.
‘We will have no such trouble with the other man courting her,’ Julian said, settling back into his chair.
‘Tobias Blake?’ Sebastian said, feigning disinterest.
Julian nodded. ‘The fellow’s reputation is spotless. And it was not my idea that she should entertain his suit.’
‘It was her father’s,’ Sebastian said.
‘The Fisks went back to the country after the ball,’ Julian said. ‘There has been no pressure from them on the matter in some time. And Cassandra still plans to meet with him tomorrow. There will be no funny business because she is taking her maid for a chaperone.’
‘It sounds like a delightful outing,’ Sebastian said, wrinkling his nose.
‘I doubt he will make a proposal at the Royal Menagerie. It is not a particularly romantic place. But then, Blake does not seem to be a particularly romantic individual.’
Although Sebastian had not spoken with Blake, the assessment seemed accurate.
Tobias Blake looked dull from a distance, and he did not think a closer inspection would add lustre.
Still, there must be some spark in the little clergymen that could be lit.
If he wished to kindle it before tomorrow, he had best get about it.
Sebastian checked his watch. ‘You must forgive me, Septon. I am late for an appointment.’
‘Farewell,’ his friend said, and waved him out the door.
It took some time to search out the lodgings of Mr Blake. He was hardly the sort to have a set at The Albany. Nor did he keep rooms in Jermyn Street or St James’s. And he had not seen the man at Almack’s, so it was unlikely he had connections in Society.
But he had been at the Septon charity ball. Not unusual for a man of the cloth, he supposed. Perhaps he was seeking a job with the school. Or was he a former orphan with a charity education in his past? Either way, Sebastian doubted that the man had any money to speak of.
He could not exactly ask Septon for more information. It was one thing to interfere with a bounder like Rutland. It would not win him points with the Fisks, Julian or Cassie if he was caught corrupting a clergyman.
But someone had to put a stop to him. Perhaps Cassie’s family was not bothered by the thought of such a humble future. But he much preferred thinking of her living in luxury. What was the point of elevating her in Society only to dump her right back into a different vicarage?
It did not matter. He would see to it that it did not happen. What was it Archimedes had said about moving the world with the right lever? There were any number of tools he could use to dislodge Mr Blake from Miss Fisk’s side. He had but to find the fellow and pry.
It took some searching through lodging houses and pensions before he discovered Mr Blake in Cheapside, letting a furnished room in a house owned by a widow.
When she called her lodger down to the sitting room, he looked to Sebastian as he had at the ball, as if he was in need of a good meal and a good tailor.
It would not be hard to find something the little vicar could not resist, for it was clear he had nothing now.
The landlady brought them a tray containing a pot of watery tea and a few slices of thinly buttered bread. Then, she left them alone and closed the door behind her.
Sebastian smiled at the other man, feeling a bit like the devil in Faust. He did not exactly want Blake’s soul, since he barely had use for his own.
He just wanted him to go away. ‘Mr Blake,’ he said rising and clapping the fellow on the back so forcefully that it knocked his spectacles askew. ‘Just the man I was looking for.’
‘You were?’ Blake straightened his glasses and looked up at him with watery blue eyes. He squinted a bit, confused, and he stepped back to offer a deep and awkward bow. ‘I do not believe we have been introduced.’ He considered for a moment. ‘You are the Duke of Westbridge, are you not?’
‘Right in one, Mr Blake,’ he said wringing the man’s hand. ‘I have had the devil of a time finding you. Your lodgings are quite out of the common way.’
‘They are?’ The man squinted at him again, confused. ‘And to what do I owe that honour?’
‘I wish,’ he said, pausing dramatically, ‘to talk to you about your future.’
‘My future?’
‘Sit down, sit down,’ Sebastian said, doing so himself and pouring the tea. ‘We have much to discuss.’
‘We do?’ Blake’s expression was utterly guileless and annoyingly devoid of dissipation.
For the moment, at least.
If Sebastian had been a better man, he might feel guilty trying to cheat an innocent. But he was not a better man. There was barely any good in him at all. So he poured a bit of milk into his tea and began to speak.
The next afternoon, Cassie arrived at the Tower of London just at one, excited for the adventure ahead.
Paging through the guidebook in her hand, she smiled at Bessie.
‘I have always heard of the place but never thought I would be able to visit. When I was a girl in the country, I would read myself to sleep on the descriptions of the animals.’
‘I have been many a time,’ the maid said, smiling. ‘It is quite grand. Even better when you can see it with a beau.’
‘Well, yes. I suppose.’ Would it be wrong to admit that she was much more excited to see a live tiger than she was to see Tobias Blake? There was nothing really wrong with him. But neither was there anything very right.
That was being unfair. He had many good qualities. He was honourable. Unlike Mr Rutland he was never going to be the topic of conversation at a party.
No one would talk about him at all. Ever. Even she was struggling to find something to say.
Unless it was to announce that he wasn’t punctual. He had said he would meet her at one, but there was no sign of him outside. In case he was waiting inside, they walked through the courtyard and up the stairs towards the place where the animals were kept.
But when she reached the arch painted with a lion, a man’s hand reached past her and rang the bell to summon the keeper.
She turned with a smile, expecting Mr Blake. She was surprised to see the Duke of Westbridge smiling back at her. ‘Miss Fisk,’ he said, offering a bow. ‘How delightful to see you again.’
‘What are you doing here?’ she said trying not to gasp. ‘How did you find me?’
‘Your little friend the cleric mentioned that he would be meeting you today,’ he said. ‘I thought I might join you.’
‘You spoke to him?’ she said, her eyes narrowing.
‘Just yesterday. We had a lovely conversation. Most informative.’
‘What about?’ she said, with a sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
‘His plans for the future,’ he said, looking up towards the ceiling as if he could see heaven and all its angels were dancing on the roof.
‘What did you do to him?’ she said, hands on hips and stepping forward to block his way. It was quite all right that he’d found a way to get rid of Andrew Rutland. But Mr Blake had done nothing wrong.
Not yet, at least.
‘Do? To him?’ He pointed to himself and looked around. ‘You think I would interfere with the man’s goals?’
‘If it suited you? Or if he’d crossed you in some way?’ Which he certainly would have, if Sebastian was intent on courting her. ‘In fact,’ she said with a look of even deeper suspicion, ‘I think you would torture the poor man, just because it amused you to do so.’
His eyes widened, and he laid a hand on his heart as if ready to swear. ‘You seriously think so little of me?’
‘In a word? Yes. Now, where is he?’
He checked his watch. ‘Several miles out to sea by now, I should think. The ship left at nine this morning.’