Regency Masquerade

Chapter Eighteen

"I say, you ain't having second thoughts about helping us?” Mott asked Hartly.

The three gentlemen met in Hartly's room after breakfast to discuss the latest development.

"We have no right to diddle Miss Trevithick out of her chance to recoup her losses,” Hartly pointed out.

"Robbie's losses are as great,” Mott objected. “Stanby took him for fifteen thousand-and my brother a mere schoolboy at the time."

"Dash it, Stanby took my papa for ten thousand,” Ponsonby added, in an injured tone. “It was pure blind luck that he never saw me, for he ran tame at Papa's house for three months."

"But she is a lady!” was Hartly's only defense. He could not like to state baldly that he loved Moira Trevithick. “And Jonathon is only a lad."

"The pair of ‘em are as good as an army. They are up to anything,” Mott said.

Hartly replied, “You are forgetting she can squelch our whole deal by telling what she knows."

"And we can squelch hers,” Ponsonby declared. “Dash it, Hartly, you said you have struck a bargain with her. Let it rest at that. We all have an even chance. Daresay Stanby will opt for her in the end. I mean to say-dashed pretty gel. She has the advantage when all is said and done."

"Who is to say Stanby is not deep enough in the pockets to snap up both bargains?” Mott suggested. “He has robbed dozens of people."

"He took in half a dozen others along with Papa with his shares in that gold mine,” Ponsonby said supportively. “He must have hundreds of thousands on deposit. We ought to all get together-us and Miss Trevithick, I mean."

"Share and share alike,” Mott said, warming to the idea.

"If need be, I would settle for half,” Ponsonby said. “Better than nothing. We will each work on our own scheme. Whichever of us reels him in shares fifty-fifty with the other. That way, Miss Trevithick will not go home empty-handed, nor shall we. Put it to her, Hartly. She will listen to you."

"I am the last one she would listen to. It would come better from you, Ponsonby."

"She would think it was the drink talking. You do it."

"Both of you do it together,” Mott said.

They agreed to call on her after Hartly's visit to Standby.

Hartly glanced at his watch. “I was to meet with Stanby in his room in half an hour. It is time I leave. We shall broach our idea to Miss Trevithick later."

"Be sure you let Stanby know we must have his answer by noon,” Ponsonby mentioned.

"And his blunt by nightfall,” Mott added, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

"We ought to warn Miss Trevithick we plan to move tonight,” Hartly said. He was greeted with derision, but he stuck to his guns. “We have a bargain. I would do no less for a gentleman. I shall not take advantage of her being a lady, and so young."

Hartly left. As he entered the hallway, Moira was just coming up the stairs. He decided to speak to her at once, while he had the opportunity. She brushed past him with her nose in the air. Hartly took hold of her wrist and drew her to a stop.

"I have something important to say to you, Miss Trevithick,” he said.

Miss Trevithick! The words sounded like thunder on the silent air. She wrenched her arm free and turned on him in fury. “So you know that, too. Congratulations, Mr. Hartly. I daresay you have already told Major Stanby?"

"Of course not,” he said angrily. “Why did you not tell me from the start? Why did you let me believe… Well, you know what I believed."

"I told you Stanby was a scoundrel! I could hardly say more to a man who was posing as an officer of the law. You threatened to have me put in prison."

"You have known since last night that I am not a Revenueman."

"I have known from the moment I laid eyes on you that you are a bounder. You are the last person in whom I would confide anything. I would not trust you with my hound, let alone my own welfare."

Hartly took these insults without a blink. “We were both quick to leap to wrong conclusions. It happens I am not Mr. Hartly, and I am not a swindler either. Like you, I am here to try to regain a stolen fortune from Stanby."

"I do not believe a word of it."

"It is true, nevertheless. We ought to have made our positions clear from the beginning. We could have reached some arrangement."

"We have already reached an arrangement. You promised you would not tell him I am not Lady Crieff; therefore, you can hardly tell him I am Moira Trevithick."

"I had no intention of telling him! Dammit, I came here to suggest a truce. We might be of some help to each other. I am only thinking of your interest. If Stanby opts for buying into the smuggling ring, you may end up with nothing. We-Ponsonby and I-want to suggest a compromise. Whichever of us succeeds, we share even-Steven with the other. That way, no one goes home empty-handed."

She sniffed. “In other words, you know perfectly well I have the greater chance of success with Stanby, and you wish to cut yourself in. How very obliging of you, Mr. Hartly."

His temper broke at her continued intransigence when he was trying to help her. “You place a high value on your charms, madam. A man like Stanby will always put money before anything else, and the smuggling would make as much in a year as the Crieff jewels would make in a lifetime. It is your decision, however. I have done what I felt common decency required in making the offer."

Moira felt a twinge of doubt. What if Stanby opted for the smuggling investment? She and Jonathon would be left high and dry. Half a fortune was better than none. Oh, but there was no trusting Hartly. He had some vile new scheme up his sleeve. Besides, his hateful arrogance made backtracking impossible.

She tossed her head imperiously. “Common decency demands that you leave off harassing me. We have our agreement."

Then she brushed past him and went to her room, where she reviewed their meeting, worrying whether she had made the wrong decision. She wondered, too, who he was if he was not Mr. Hartly. He had implied he was one of Stanby's victims. Could he be the man to whom Stanby had sold shares in that nonexistent gold mine in Canada? Hartly did not look like a man to be cheated at the card table. He was too wily for that. Who could he be?

Hartly continued on to the meeting with Stanby. It, at least, went well. Stanby had definitely decided to go snacks in the smuggling operation and was eager to get on with it.

"I have been thinking it is time I settle down,” he said. “Lady Crieff has family in this area. She will like to live here. I shall build a mansion on the coast, where I can keep an eye on operations. As the major shareholder, the handling of the funds will be my responsibility. You and Ponsonby know what sums to expect. I am a gentleman. I shall not diddle you."

"No one is questioning your integrity, Major. If we cannot trust an officer, whom can we trust? Of course we shall drop in from time to time to visit. Er… you mentioned Lady Crieff. Am I to understand she has accepted an offer of marriage?"

The major gave a dismissing smile. “The ladies like to give a little show of reluctance. They think it indelicate to leap at the altar, but entre nous, I think she will have me."

This casual talk of building a mansion indicated that raising the wind would be no problem for Stanby. Hartly moved along at once to settle the finances.

"Ponsonby and I are arranging our funds this morning. The Black Ghost demands cash. He has another offer-from old Lord Marchbank, I believe. We must move quickly if we wish to secure this lucrative investment. Can you do it?"

"It happens I am meeting with my man of business this morning regarding another financial transaction I am involved in.” Hartly mentally translated this to mean he was indeed buying the collection for cash. “I shall ask him to bring along the extra twenty-five thousand. I insist on being present when the cash is given to this fellow they call the Black Ghost. I mean no slur on your integrity, Hartly, but common sense dictates that in an investment of this sort, for cash, you know, with nothing in writing, every precaution must be taken."

"Why, truth to tell, Major, I welcome your company, and Ponsonby's as well. I would not care to meet the Black Ghost alone on some desolate beach at midnight. I plan to bring along a pistol. I suggest you do likewise, if possible."

"I never travel unarmed. There are too many rogues willing to rob a fellow's pocket. I don't know what England is coming to. We shall return to the inn when the deal is consummated and drink a toast to our success, eh, Hartly?"

"In our own unadulterated brandy,” Hartly agreed.

"One ‘gentleman’ to another. Heh heh. There is more than one sort of gentleman nowadays, eh?"

"There certainly is,” Hartly agreed with a bland smile that hid his rancor.

"I shall just get out my account books now and do my bookkeeping. I may want to transfer some investments as a result of this new venture. I like to keep a goodly sum in Consols, as they are not only safe as the Bank of England but liquid. I am withdrawing them for this current business. I shall sell my stocks in a certain shipbuilding company that is not performing so well since the war is over and put that into Consols. Being custodian of a large fortune is not all a bed of roses. It entails obligations."

"But a very pleasant obligation, is it not?” Hartly said, peering at the account book. The sums before him were dizzying.

"True.” Stanby smiled. “Wealth is not a heavy burden to carry."

Hartly took his leave. The chore of acting left his temper frayed, but overall his mood was triumphant. It seemed Stanby did indeed mean to buy Lady Crieff's jewels. No doubt he had some scheme hatching to recover the money very soon after the wedding, but as Miss Trevithick had no intention of marrying him, that did not matter. She would just take the money and run. And he would never see her again…

This was intolerable. He must see her, talk to her. Perhaps the lad could be of some help in a rapprochement. Bullion told him Jonathon had gone out for a ride. Hartly did not see Moira again until lunchtime, when she sat at Major Stanby's table, smiling and simpering and casting sheep's eyes at the old goat. Immediately after luncheon, she called her carriage and drove off to Cove House, where she remained until dinner.

The inn was busy that afternoon with callers from London, arriving with cases full of cash, arranging private meetings with Stanby, Ponsonby, and Hartly. Each gentleman was assembling his investment money.

During a quiet interval, Hartly had a word with Bullion. “Has the major asked to see the Crieff collection?” he said.

"That he did. I told him he would have to have Lady Crieff's permission. That shut him up. He does not want her to know he is so suspicious."

"Stave him off. Even if he comes with a letter from her, find some excuse."

Hartly did not tell Bullion the jewels were fakes, but he knew Stanby would realize it if he examined them by daylight.

"That I will, sir. Is your man all set for the meeting at midnight?"

"Gibbs is ready and waiting. You have the special brandy prepared for the celebration?"

"That I have.” He touched his nose and nodded sagely. “It will be a dandy party."

"Until tonight, then."