Chapter Thirteen
As Percy got up and went to the decanter to pour them each a brandy, Thomas stared after Louisa.
She had been smiling as she’d left them.
He was more aware than ever that most of her smiles meant nothing.
This particular smile had never faded, even when her grandfather had raved at her like a madman.
She’d smiled when he’d said he loved her, as well. Had it shocked her, he wondered? It had certainly surprised him. The words had popped into his head as a natural part of the argument Tom Smith would make to defend his suit. But they’d become something else as they left his mouth.
Percy handed him the glass and he drank.
‘That was a whopping great lie, you told earlier,’ Percy said.
But had it been a lie? It had sounded to him as though he really loved Louisa Skeffington. Or rather, Tom Smith did. But if he was Tom Smith… Dash it, this was getting far too complicated!
Percy was grinning at him. ‘You have not told a story like that since Oxford when we were caught out after curfew. You pretending to be your own cousin?’
‘Oh, that.’ He’d forgotten.
‘What are you going to tell the countess, the next time you see her?’
Another lie? The truth? He had not thought that far ahead. ‘I will think of something,’ he said determinedly.
‘I look forward to hearing what you come up with,’ Percy said, toasting him. ‘But whatever you say, she will forgive you. Everyone always does.’
‘Because no one wants to cross a duke,’ Thomas said grimly.
‘I am almost as eager to hear what you mean to do about the old man, upstairs.’
‘So am I.’ He was more interested in what he needed to tell Percy, right now. After all this time, how could he announce that the easiest solution might be for the Duke of Bonham to simply marry his sister, since he was the only one in the room who could afford to keep her?
Before Percy could comment, there was another knock at the door. A staccato hammering, unlike the crisp tapping of the countess’s man.
Percy rose to greet this latest visitor only to back into the room a moment later, followed by three men who Thomas had never seen before.
‘May I introduce our local constable, Mr Barnes, and his…’ Percy glanced at Thomas then back to the two men standing behind Barnes, who filled the doorframe like a wall of meat. ‘Friends?’
‘I am sorry, Mr Skeffington,’ the constable said, shifting from foot to foot. ‘Personally, I would never have done so, but Lord Skeffington suggested I bring sufficient help to enforce his wishes.’
‘And they are?’ Percy asked.
‘That you and your friend be removed from the premises post haste.’
Thomas blinked in surprise. This was an interesting development and not one he had considered.
Probably because he was far too used to doing just as he pleased, while others stepped out of his way.
He did not abuse the privilege. But what would he have done if there were interlopers in his home that provoked him and would not leave?
Percy laughed, an overly jolly sound that did not reflect the seriousness of the situation.
His friend had always been able to defuse the most difficult situations with bonhomie.
‘Apparently, there has been a mistake. We were speaking with my grandfather just an hour ago and he said nothing about this.’
Barnes looked even more uncomfortable. ‘He sent a footman to summon me half an hour ago, along with this message.’ He reached into his pocket with a trembling hand and pulled out a sheet of paper, handing it to Percy.
Percy gave it a shake and held it up to read. ‘Well, it does seem to be his handwriting.’ He glanced back at Thomas. ‘Is it possible to have angry penmanship?’
‘I have no idea,’ he said with a shrug.
‘He is quite specific about what he wishes for us. For you, particularly.’
‘Really?’ He doubted it was anything good.
As if to demonstrate, the two men stepped into the room towards them. They looked like the sort of stout-hearted fellows he would want working on his imaginary farm. The sort who would have no trouble muscling an unruly draft horse into a harness or turning a team of oxen by pulling their horns.
‘I am sorry,’ the constable said with a shrug in Thomas’s direction. ‘As Mr Skeffington says, the note is very specific.’
From close up, the man standing in front of him now was as big as the bears in the Royal Menagerie.
He looked and smelled like a beast trained to stand on his hind legs.
His paws jabbed outward and caught Thomas under the arms, lifting him out of his chair.
Though he was by no means a short man, he dangled in the grasp of the constable’s deputy, who turned and carried him towards the open front door.
‘I say…’
It was all he could manage, before he remembered that there was no point in telling the fellow he could be whipped for laying hands on a peer. There was no particular law against throwing Tom Smith from a house where he was not welcome.
Struggling was useless. His toes were barely scraping the floor. He aimed a kick at his captor’s shins. In response, the man sighed, more disappointed than hurt, and kept walking.
They passed the butler, who gave him an equally disappointed look.
He had just enough time to be glad that Louisa was not present to see this, before he was swung once, twice, three times, to gain momentum.
Then he was airborne, sailing over the sweep of the drive and into a hedge on the opposite side.
From there, he watched as Percy was treated a tad more gently. He’d been shoved and prodded forward by the other man. But at least he’d been allowed to walk through the door and argue about the process.
‘My things are upstairs,’ he was saying, poking the man in the chest. ‘Surely, there is time to pack?’
‘Your luggage will be sent after you,’ Barnes said from the side where he’d been waiting. ‘I will have it delivered to the inn. You may wait for it there, for a day or two. But if you remain much longer than that, I fear I will have to put you out of the inn, as well.’
‘Then, I think it is within my right to call my grandfather an evil old screw!’ Percy shouted the last words upwards, towards the bedroom window above the door and followed them with a rude gesture.
In response, one side of the curtains twitched to show that their ejection had been witnessed and enjoyed.
Percy turned to Thomas and offered him a hand up out of the hedge. ‘I’ll wager you did not expect your visit here to end with you, toes up in the shrubbery.’
‘We are not yet finished,’ Thomas said, glaring up at the window, as well.
‘Perhaps not,’ Percy said, brushing a leaf off his friend’s shoulder. ‘But we are through for the day, at least.’ He smiled at Barnes. ‘I don’t suppose we could trouble you for a ride into the village?’
The constable shook his head. ‘I came on my horse and my friends will be walking only as far as the nearest farm.’
‘I thought not,’ Percy said. ‘Well, no hard feelings, Mr Barnes. I know my grandfather. You had no choice in this matter. I will not hold it against you.’
‘That is most kind of you, Mr Skeffington. I hope, the next time we meet it will be under better circumstances.’
‘As do I, Barnes.’ Percy offered him a mocking bow.
The constable doffed his hat and then headed off towards the stables to reclaim his horse.
As the house door closed against them, Percy turned to Thomas with an expectant look. ‘Well, Mr Smith, you are the one setting the pace for this little adventure. What shall we do now?’
‘Dinner at the inn,’ he said, staring down the drive towards the village.
‘And then?’
He was going to get drunk. Beyond that, he had no suggestions to offer. But to announce the fact hardly inspired confidence in his abilities as a mastermind.
‘I will think of something,’ he said and smiled. ‘Lead the way, Mr Skeffington.’
When Louisa came down to dinner that night, she was surprised to find her grandfather was the only person in the room. She had told her brother and Thomas not to be late. They should have known that she did not want to be alone with him, not even for a moment. Where were they?
She glanced around her and immediately regretted it. There was nothing in the room but the table, chairs and a sideboard that held an arrangement of flowers in an expensive China bowl. There was nothing to see.
Her momentary weakness gave her grandfather ammunition to use against her. He laughed. ‘Do you think your lover is hiding under the table? Perhaps you should raise the cloth and check.’
‘That will not be necessary,’ she said, taking her seat and dropping her napkin into her lap, as her grandfather called for the soup to be served.
She almost suggested that he wait for the others before beginning to eat. Then, she glanced at the empty seats around her and their lack of place settings. The servants had been told there would only be two for dinner. She was the only one in the dark.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the smirk on Grandfather’s face.
He was waiting for her to ask about the absences so he could gloat.
As always, she had little to no power over what was happening.
But she did not have to play along with his little game of yes and no.
She picked up her spoon and began to eat.
‘They are gone,’ he said, unable to restrain himself from speaking. ‘They did as I asked and ran off as soon as they could get free of you.’
They would not do that. At least, she did not think they would go. But they were certainly not here.
‘They didn’t even bother to tell you, did they?
’ he said with a mocking moue of sympathy.
‘You were just down the hall, in your room as they packed up to leave. When you go up later, you will see that there is no sign of them. Their clothing is gone and the beds are stripped. They stole away without even leaving you a note.’