Lady gambit, p.13
Lady Gambit, page 13
He rose, albeit awkwardly, his good eye coming to rest on the enchanting woman who had no plans to marry him. “Miss Chance. What a pleasure.” Meldrum was trying to be charming, but the thread of fear in his voice was unmistakable. “I must admit, I am somewhat surprised to see you here. Indeed, I must ask how you knew where to find me?”
Miss Chance gave a charming smile. “I overheard Aaron cursing you to the devil, my lord. He told my brother Aramis that if he wished to question you further, he might find you at your sister’s abode.”
Meldrum visibly shivered. He was a short man of thirty, with a mop of golden hair and a cherub-like face. He was dressed impeccably in a dark green coat and beige trousers. Yet Dorian imagined him creeping into Miss Chance’s bedchamber at night, wearing a white nightshirt and a wicked grin.
“Does your brother know you’re here?” Meldrum’s bottom lip quivered.
That’s when he dared to look Dorian in the eye.
They knew each other, of course.
Meldrum was a coward who’d hidden behind the other boys at school until Dorian learned the importance of the term divide and conquer and spent a week singling the bullies out. Meldrum had pissed the bed the night Dorian stuffed dirty stockings in his mouth and warned him not to join the fight again.
“Do you honestly believe he would permit me to come here alone? I asked Mr Flynn to accompany me.” She glanced at him over her shoulder, her eyes softening momentarily. “Mr Flynn is exceptionally skilled at locating missing persons. I have hired him to find my parents.”
Meldrum kept his tone even when he said, “I’m told you’ll soon be master of Helmsley Hall, Flynn. Your father was boasting at the club and said we’d read the announcement soon.”
Helmsley Hall was the gift the Marquess of Bexley had bestowed upon his illegitimate daughter, Miss Montague.
“You’re mistaken. My father does not determine who I marry.” He could feel Miss Chance’s intense gaze boring into him. “When the time comes, I shall choose my own bride, just as I’ve chosen my own profession.”
Meldrum snorted. “You’d rather live above the Old Swan than at Helmsley? I know men who would give their right arm to marry a woman as divine as Miss Montague.”
“What I choose to do is not your concern. I’m here in a professional capacity. As Miss Chance said, I’ve been employed to find her parents, and hired by the magistrate at Bow Street to catch the blackguard who shot Theodore Chance.”
Meldrum stepped back, his confidence faltering. “If you’ve come to blacken my other eye, be assured I had nothing to do with that blasted shooting. Only a fool would maim one brother when there are three more waiting in the wings.”
The door suddenly burst open. A gentleman in his late thirties with a thick moustache and side-whiskers strode into the room. He took one look at them and came to a crashing halt.
“Don’t mind Bertie.” Meldrum gestured to his dark-haired friend.
Bertie raised his hands in mock surrender. “I do beg your pardon. I didn’t know you had guests. I shall leave you in peace.”
Bertie made to retreat, but Meldrum wouldn’t hear of it. “Stay. If Flynn means to accuse me of attempted murder, I want a witness.”
“We’re here to discuss your marriage proposal, not to accuse you of a crime,” Miss Chance said as per the plan, though the thought of her marrying any man turned Dorian’s stomach. “Mr Flynn will want to ask you a few questions. My brother was shot during an attempted abduction. He needs you to prove that your desire to settle your debts did not lead you to do something foolish.”
With Meldrum drowning in a mire of debt, he had no option but to invite them to sit. “I’m innocent of any crime. I have nothing to hide.”
Bertie—introduced to them as Gerald Bertram, an old friend Meldrum met on his Grand Tour—took the chair by the hearth. Keen to woo the woman who might save him from the Marshalsea, Meldrum cupped Miss Chance’s elbow and escorted her to the plush sofa. Dorian sat in the adjacent chair and was forced to watch Meldrum fawn over Miss Chance.
Meldrum turned to face the lady, his knee brushing hers. “Your brother said he would rather tie a noose around his neck than call me kin. What makes you think you can persuade him otherwise?”
Miss Chance’s smile radiated confidence. “My brother cares about my welfare. If he thinks I am happy, he will agree to the match. But before we continue, I must know you did not plan to have me abducted to force my brother’s hand.”
Meldrum shrugged. “What can I do but give you my word?”
“You can help to find those responsible.”
The lord stared blankly. “Isn’t that Flynn’s job?”
“If you want to win the lady’s hand, you must show willing,” Bertie said with a weak chuckle. “You can ask at your club. You can pester the ton’s best gossips. It’s the obvious place to start.”
Dorian might have agreed but could think of nothing but Meldrum’s pasty white paws mauling Miss Chance.
“The lady knows you’re marrying her out of desperation,” Bertie said. “A romantic gesture may soften the blow.”
Meldrum snorted. “I think a title is compensation enough. She can have the run of Farnworth Park. I’ll not trouble her there.”
And Aaron Chance would be forever keeping the bailiffs at bay.
Bertie sighed. “Forgive my friend. He’s a dolt who’s forgotten that all men are equal in the Marshalsea. Fear not, Miss Chance. A strong woman might be just the thing to help put his priorities in order.”
Meldrum’s cheeks flamed. “What the blazes, Bertie! You’re supposed to be on my side.”
“Trust me, I am.” Bertie laughed. “I am.”
“You’re aware I have no memory of my parents?” Miss Chance looked at her clasped hands resting in her lap. “They may be criminals. Aaron took me in while I was living on the streets. Why would you want to court scandal by marrying someone the ton considers inferior?”
The devil covered her clasped hand with his own. “I knew you were beautiful from the rare glimpses I’ve seen. Sitting with you now, I find there’s something quite compelling about your countenance.”
The muscles in Dorian’s abdomen tightened.
It took every effort to remain in the chair.
He pursed his lips before he swore and ruined the investigation.
“You flatter me, my lord. But I cannot consider your suit until Mr Flynn has vouched for your innocence. He can only do that if you answer his questions.”
Glad of the distraction and that Meldrum was prompted to release Miss Chance, Dorian said, “What do you know about Nora Adkins?”
“Who?”
“She’s a patient at Bethlem Royal Hospital. You’re on the Board of Governors. You visited the hospital late last night when Nora Adkins absconded.”
Meldrum paled. He tried to hide his shock with a frown. “What has that madwoman escaping got to do with the attack on Miss Chance and her brother?”
Dorian shrugged. “Nothing. Everything. Please answer the question, my lord. Have you had any dealings with a patient named Nora Adkins?”
The lord mumbled his frustration. “I’m not permitted to discuss a patient with anyone outside the hospital. We’re bound by—”
“Cursed saints! Tell them what they need to know.” Bertie gave an exasperated sigh. “Flynn is leading a criminal investigation. He’s well within his rights to demand the basic information.” He paused before blurting, “Meldrum is being blackmailed. He will show you the letters.”
Meldrum shot to his feet. “You damned fool! Why the devil did you tell them? I’ll be the laughing stock of the club. Flynn will use this to ruin me.”
The lord was doing an excellent job of that himself.
“Because you need professional help but are too stubborn to ask.” Bertie faced Dorian, a pleading look in his eyes. “Meldrum inherited the problem from his father. He’s had no choice but to comply with the demands. Heaven forbid the public learn that they’ve kept a sane woman locked in a cell for years. Let alone a peer is responsible.”
Miss Chance failed to stifle a gasp. “How dreadful.”
“I assure you,” Dorian began, wondering how Meldrum’s father knew Nora Adkins and what it had to do with Miss Chance, “you may speak in the strictest confidence. I shall use any information you have to find the culprit.”
Protecting Miss Chance was all that mattered.
If he had to protect this fop in the process, so be it.
After a brief debate, Meldrum left to fetch the letters.
Bertie wasted no time and was quick to spill the beans. “He’s terrified this Nora woman knows he’s the one keeping her in Bethlem. That’s the real reason he relocated to Nelson Square. He’s scared out of his wits.”
“He was keeping Nora at Bethlem,” Dorian corrected. “She is currently at large in the city. There is one consolation. If Nora Adkins is mad, the public will help us find her.” Yet the woman’s shrewd actions said she might be entirely sane.
“The Superintendent sent Meldrum a note last night.” Bertie kept his voice low as he glanced at the door. “They’ve been paying him to turn a blind eye for years, but that’s beside the point. Find the blackmailer. He’s the one who wants the woman kept locked in a cell. Find him, and we’ll all sleep a little easier at night.”
Meldrum returned. His hands shook as he gave Dorian the letters. “The first one is dated August 1814. My father was on the Board of Governors at Bethlem. It’s around the time they were moving to new premises in St George’s Fields.”
The paper was tatty and foxed, and the ink had faded. The blackmailer wrote in large, bold strokes. He knew about the lord’s mounting debts and his affair with his wife’s cousin. He knew the lord had stolen money from a benefactor to pay his debts, money meant for the hospital’s relocation.
“My father found Nora Adkins with her hands and feet bound in a disused property in St Giles,” Meldrum said, gesturing to the letters. “He fed her laudanum and invented a story to have her committed. When he died, more letters arrived, urging me to keep the pact or face ruin.”
Dorian flipped through the missives. “And you’ve been accepting money to keep Nora at Bethlem ever since?”
“A tea chest arrives every January filled with a hundred sovereigns.” Meldrum’s voice brimmed with shame. “Just like the agreement the blackmailer had with my father, the money is used for the patient’s keep.”
“Have you ever spoken to Nora Adkins?” Miss Chance said.
He turned to her and smiled as if the sight of her lightened his mood. “Once, in a futile attempt to discover the blackmailer’s identity.”
“Did she say anything that might help Mr Flynn discover her whereabouts?”
“One thing. She said all that mattered was finding Caterina.”
Chapter Eleven
The Old Swan
Long Lane, Smithfield
The old timber tavern had stood in Long Lane for two hundred years. It was an area popular with cloth merchants, and being a stone’s throw from Smithfield Market, it was a bustling hive of activity. Hawkers walked the street selling their wares. Grocers stood on the pavement arranging produce in carts outside their shop windows. Children and dogs darted about, getting under people’s feet.
Delphine looked at Mr Flynn as the carriage stopped outside the quaint tavern. He’d hardly said a word since Lord Meldrum grasped her hand and renewed his desire to make her his wife.
“How long have you lived here?” she said, breaking the silence.
Brief seconds passed before he answered. “Seven years. I took lodgings above the tavern when working at Bow Street.” His eyes remained downcast, his mouth a thin, pensive line. “My father offered me a townhouse in Mayfair and a sizeable allowance if I agreed to stop working. He said he’d not paid for my schooling to watch me wrestling with ruffians.”
She studied him, a new hunger taking command of her now. The need to learn everything about him, every secret, every hope and aspiration, was another craving she could not sate.
“You never mention your mother.”
His eyes rose to meet hers.
The pain she saw there cut to the bone.
“She died when I was fifteen. I’d not seen her for three years.” The cold, distant tone of his voice spoke of indifference. “When my father tired of her, she married a merchant. I wasn’t welcome in the house, and she severed all ties.”
His mother had abandoned him?
Tears gathered behind her eyes. Questions bombarded her mind. An inner voice warned her to change the subject, but they’d agreed to speak openly, and bad feelings festered.
“So you stayed with your father when you came home from school?” Had something awful happened? Was that the reason for his growing animosity towards the man who’d sired him?
His snort dripped with mockery. “The Earl and Countess of Retford would not permit a bastard to live in their mansion house. Especially when the lady is barren and has failed to give her husband an heir.”
Her heart constricted before the next question left her lips. “Where did you go during the holidays?”
His eyes remained locked with hers. Had he seen her throat tighten? Did he know she could feel his pain? “Where does a boy go when he has no home?”
Nowhere.
A tear slipped down her cheek. She imagined he would rather live in a gaming hell with people who loved him than have the freedom to roam the world alone.
He leaned forward and dashed away her errant tear, though he continued stroking her cheek once it was dry. “There’s no need to cry for me, Delphine. What hurts us makes us stronger. I’m a better man for their neglect.”
“You’re an exceptional man.”
“You’re the first person to say so.” His gaze dipped to her lips. “God granted me a boon the day he forced me to take your case.”
She wanted to kiss him, to throw herself into his arms and hold him tightly. What if she’d not met him that day? What if she’d had a change of heart? It hurt to think of him wandering the empty corridors at Mile End. It hurt to think of them going their separate ways once the case was solved.
“We have Mr Daventry to thank. He can be quite a hard taskmaster. Aaron would not have permitted me to remain at Mile End had the gentleman not been so insistent.”
A smile played on his lips. “Daventry excels at manipulation.” He glanced at the bundle of papers on the seat beside him. “Now we need to discover who is manipulating Lord Meldrum.”
Her skin crawled at the memory of Lord Meldrum’s clammy hand clasping hers. She would rather spend her days alone in silent prayer than marry the ignoble fellow. Once he owned her, she would be nothing more than a pawn in his game. “We’re going around in circles. For every question we answer, another is revealed.”
“That’s the nature of enquiry work. Once all other possibilities are exhausted, we will be left with the truth.”
She didn’t want to think about that day.
It would come soon enough. Dorian Flynn was too clever, too committed to neglect his duties. Until then, she must make every second count.
She peered at the Old Swan’s facade. “I would like to visit your room, if I may. I’m curious to see how it differs from Mile End.” And the desire to touch his private things was doubtless part of this growing addiction.
“Do you think that’s wise?” The gleam of something forbidden in his eyes stole her breath. “The room is small and quite cramped. There’s barely space for one. We’ll be bumping into each other.”
An erotic image entered her mind. Him kissing her against the door, his mouth hot and insistent. Her breasts crushed against his chest, his large hands gripping her buttocks. She might have pictured him tearing off his coat, his breath coming in ragged pants, but Mr Gibbs broke her reverie by thumping on the carriage roof in a fit of impatience.
“I’m paid to work,” he called when Mr Flynn lowered the window. “Not sit like a stuffed bear while you whisper sweet nothings in the lady’s ear. Get the information you need and let’s be on our way.”
“Oh, he’s so rude,” she said, biting back a grin.
Mr Flynn smiled as he gathered the papers and opened the carriage door. “Gibbs has a point. You’re a delightful distraction, Miss Chance.”
“So are you, sir. This mutual appreciation makes it hard to concentrate.” She accepted his proffered hand and almost lost her footing when she struggled to tear her gaze from his fingers.
“What is it?”
She gave a coy shrug. “Every time you touch me, something magical happens. It’s quite baffling.”
“It’s not baffling at all.” He made sure her feet were firmly on the pavement before releasing her. “Our need for each other is like a feral beast. Now it’s been awakened, it won’t rest until it’s sated.”
Sparks of desire ignited a fire in her belly. “Perhaps we should do something about it before it becomes too difficult to focus on the case.”
“I thought we agreed there was nothing to be done.” He noticed Gibbs glaring at them and lowered his voice. “We’ll have this conversation once we’re alone. I need to fetch a few things from upstairs. We can talk then.”
Something in his eyes said they would do more than talk.
He turned to Gibbs. “We’ll be an hour at most. You might question the shopkeepers. Attempt to get a description of the man who lay in wait for me last week. He may have pestered them for information.”
Gibbs had other ideas. “I’ll search the tavern and wait inside. I’ve orders to protect Miss Chance. There’s no telling who’s lurking there.”
Mr Flynn tutted. “I can protect Miss Chance.”
“I don’t see how. Your eyes never leave her lips.”
Mr Gibbs marched into the premises but stopped to hold the door open for her. That’s when someone called Mr Flynn’s given name. When he froze in the doorway, dread marring his rugged features.
“Dorian!” came the stern voice again.
A tall, broad man stood on the pavement, the breeze ruffling his swathe of grey hair. From the impeccable cut of his coat and the elegant equipage parked in the lane, this overbearing fellow was the Earl of Retford.
