Slightly Wicked

Chapter XX

“Doubtless,” Wulfric, Duke of Bewcastle said, one hand spread elegantly about the bowl of his brandy glass, the other loosely holding the handle of his quizzing glass, “you are about to explain, Rannulf, why I am playing host to a suspected jewel thief, who also happens to be young, female, and unchaperoned?”

“And also well above the ordinary in the looks department,” Alleyne added, grinning. “There you probably have explanation enough, Wulf.”

Bewcastle had invited Rannulf to follow him to the library after the housekeeper had been summoned to show Judith to a guest room. Such invitations were rarely issued for purely social purposes. Alleyne had come along too, uninvited. His eldest brother ignored him now and focused his languid attention on Rannulf—though the pose was deceptive. He was, as usual, keen-eyed.

“She is Judith Law, niece of Sir George Effingham, Grandmama’s neighbor,” Rannulf explained. “She was living there at Harewood Grange as a sort of companion to Lady Effingham’s mother, her own grandmother. There has been a house party there for the past two weeks. Miss Law’s brother was a guest—a young jackanapes who lives a life of expensive idleness, well beyond the means provided him by his father, a country rector. My guess is that the family is very close to being ruined.”

“Miss Law, then,” Wulfric said after sipping his brandy, “was a poor relation at Harewood. Her brother is up to his neck in debt. And their grandmother owns—or owned— expensive jewels.”

“They disappeared during a ball,” Rannulf said. “So did Branwell Law. And one piece of jewelry as well as an empty velvet bag that usually held the most expensive jewels were found in Miss Law’s room.”

“Incriminating indeed,” Wulfric said softly, raising his eyebrows.

“Too incriminating,” Rannulf said. “Even the rawest of amateurs could have done better.”

“Oh, I say,” Alleyne said cheerfully, “someone set them up for a fall. Some dastardly villain. Do you have any idea who, Ralf?”

The duke turned toward him, his glass halfway to his eye. “We will not turn this into a farcical melodrama if you please, Alleyne,” he said.

“But he is almost right,” Rannulf told him. “Horace Effingham, Sir George’s son, tried to force himself on Miss Law during a garden party at Grandmaison a week or so ago. He would have succeeded too if I had not happened along just in time and given him a bit of a thrashing. On the night of the ball he attempted revenge by almost trapping me into compromising his sister and being forced to offer for her—Miss Law saved me from that fate. It was during the same ball that young Law abruptly left Harewood and Mrs. Law’s jewels disappeared.”

“Splendid stuff,” Alleyne said. “And while all that excitement was going on in Leicestershire, I have been stuck here shepherding Morgan about to see all the famous sights.”

Wulfric had released his hold on his quizzing glass. He was pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and middle finger, his eyes closed.

“And so Miss Law ran away and you followed after,” he said. “When was that, Rannulf?”

“Yesterday,” his brother said.

“Ah.” Wulfric removed his hand and opened his eyes. “And dare one ask where you stayed last night?”

“At a posting inn.” Rannulf’s eyes narrowed. “Look, Wulf, if this is an interrogation into my—”

His brother held up his hand and Rannulf fell silent. One tended to do that with Wulf, he thought, irritated with himself. A single gesture—even the simple raising of an eyebrow would do it—and Bewcastle commanded his world.

“You have not considered,” Wulfric asked, “the possibility of a clever trap, Rannulf? That perhaps the lady is poor, greedy, and ambitious?”

“If you have any other observations of that nature,” Rannulf said, sitting forward in his chair, his hands on the arms, “you had better keep them to yourself, Wulf, if you do not want to be looking for your teeth a moment after.”

“Oh, bravo!” Alleyne exclaimed admiringly.

Wulfric merely curled his fingers lightly about the handle of his quizzing glass and raised his eyebrows.

“I take it,” he said, “that you are enamored of the lady? The daughter of an impoverished, soon to be ruined, country clergyman? Red hair and certain, ah, generous endowments have turned your head?

Infatuation does tend to have a blinding effect on the rational mind, Rannulf. Can you be quite sure you have not been so blinded?”

“Horace Effingham volunteered to pursue the Laws to London,” Rannulf said. “My guess is that apprehending them will not be good enough for him. He will want to find evidence that will prove beyond all doubt that they are the thieves.”

“If he intends to plant it, we will thwart him,” Alleyne said. “I know him by sight, Ralf—a toothy, oily individual, right? I am delighted to discover that he is a villainous cur. I say, life has brightened considerably since this morning.”

Wulfric was pinching the bridge of his nose again.

“What I need to do,” Rannulf said, “is find Branwell Law. I doubt he is in his rooms at this time of day.

He is more likely out somewhere trying to make his fortune on the turn of a card. But I’ll go around there anyway to see.”

“That is what servants are for,” Wulfric said. “It is almost dinnertime, Rannulf. Miss Law will doubtless feel even more uncomfortable than she did earlier if you are absent from the table. I will have a servant sent around, and if he is at home, you may go there in person later.”

“She is determined to go there herself,” Rannulf said.

“Then she must be dissuaded from doing so,” Wulfric said. “How is our grandmother?”

Rannulf sat back in his chair. “Dying,” he said.

Both his brothers gave him their full attention.

“She will not talk about it,” he said. “She is as elegant, as independent, as active as ever. But she is clearly very ill indeed. Dying, in fact.”

“You did not speak with her physician?” Wulfric asked.

Rannulf shook his head. “It would have been an invasion of her privacy.”

“Poor Grandmama,” Alleyne said. “She has always seemed immortal.”

“This business with Miss Law, then,” Wulfric said, “must be cleared up without delay. Our grandmother will need you back there at Grandmaison, Rannulf. And I will want to see her once more. The bride she has chosen for you is perhaps the Miss Effingham you referred to? The family is of respectable, though not brilliant, lineage.”

“She has changed her mind,” Rannulf said. “Grandmama, I mean. And she knew I was coming after Judith.”

“Judith?” his brother said softly, his eyebrows rising again. “Our grandmother approves of her?

Normally I have great respect for her judgment.”

But not for his brother’s? Rannulf thought ruefully. He got to his feet.

“I’ll send a servant,” he said.

Judith was up early the following morning, though she had slept surprisingly well all night. The guest room assigned to her was one of opulent splendor. It even had a spacious dressing room attached to it. The large four-poster bed was soft and comfortable and smelled faintly of lavender. Even so, she had not expected to sleep.

Being at Bedwyn House was surely the most embarrassing experience of her life. Lord Rannulf’s brothers and sisters had all been perfectly well mannered during dinner and the hour in the drawing room that had followed it. But she had felt very far out of her depth. The thought of leaving her room this morning was daunting indeed.

Branwell had not been found. A servant had been sent around to his rooms last night, but he had not been there. When she had said that she would go in person this morning, the Duke of Bewcastle had raised his quizzing glass to his eye, Lord Rannulf had told her it would not be at all the thing, and Lord Alleyne had smiled at her and advised her to leave all to Rannulf. It was not what she had come here to do. But if the thought of leaving her room was daunting, the thought of leaving Bedwyn House was doubly so.

Fifteen minutes after getting out of bed, Judith was on her way downstairs to the breakfast room, wearing a dress that one of the servants must have ironed during the night. She braced herself to meet the whole family again, but the room was empty, she discovered with great relief, except for the butler, who bowed to her from beside the sideboard and then suggested what she might like to eat from a dizzying array of warming dishes. He poured her a cup of coffee after she had sat down.

It was a relief to be alone, but she was going to have to go in search of Lord Rannulf after breakfast.

She needed him to direct her to Branwell’s lodgings. She hoped he would accompany her there too.

She was not to remain alone for long. Before she had taken more than a few bites, the door opened to admit Lady Freyja and Lady Morgan, both dressed in elegant riding habits. Judith was terrified of both of them—and thoroughly despised herself for being awed by aristocratic arrogance.

“Good morning,” she said.

They returned her greeting and busied themselves at the sideboard.

“You have been out riding?” Judith asked politely when they seated themselves.

“In Hyde Park,” Lady Freyja said. “It is insipid exercise after having the whole of the park at Lindsey Hall to gallop about until a few days ago as well as the countryside beyond it.”

“You were the one who insisted that I wanted to come to town, Free,” Lady Morgan said, “even though I protested.”

“Because I wanted you to see some of the sights,” Lady Freyja said, “and rescue you from the schoolroom and Miss Cowper’s clutches for a week or two.”

“Nonsense!” her sister said. “We both know that was not the reason. Miss Law, I do wish I had your color hair. You must be the envy of all your acquaintance.”

“Thank you,” Judith said, surprised. She had been feeling embarrassed that she had no cap to wear.

“Did Lord Rannulf ride with you? I am waiting for him to escort me to my brother’s lodgings this morning. I hope to be able to begin my journey home this afternoon.” Though how she was going to get there she did not know. She would have to beg the stagecoach fare from Rannulf, she supposed.

“Ah, yes,” Lady Freyja said. “I was to tell you when I returned that you are not to worry your head about a thing, that Ralf will take care of it all for you.”

Judith jumped to her feet, scraping back her chair with her knees. “But Branwell is my brother,” she said.

“Finding him is my concern, not Lord Rannulf’s. I will not stay here like a good little girl, not worrying my empty little woman’s head, letting a man take care of my business for me. I am going to find Bran whether there is someone here to direct me to his lodgings or not. And I do not care that it is not the thing for a lady to call upon a gentleman alone in London. How absurd when the gentleman is her own brother.

Excuse me, please.”

She was not given to displays of temper, but the sense of helplessness that had dogged her ever since she arrived at Harewood almost three weeks ago was finally too, too much.

“Oh, splendid!” Lady Freyja exclaimed, looking at her with rather surprised approval. “I have done you an injustice, Miss Law—at least, I sincerely hope I have. I took you for an abject clinging vine. But you are a woman after my own heart, I see. Men can be the most ridiculous creatures, especially gentlemen with their archaic notions of gallantry to ladies. I’ll come with you.”

“So will I,” Lady Morgan said eagerly.

Her sister frowned at her. “You had better not, Morgan,” she said. “Wulf would have my head. It was bad enough that I brought you to London without consulting him first. His voice was so quiet when I went to the library on his summons that it was almost a whisper. I hate it when he does that, especially when I cannot restrain myself from yelling back at him. It puts one at such a disadvantage—as he well knows.

No, you really must stay at home.”

“There is no need for either of you to accompany me,” Judith said hastily. “I do not need a chaperon.”

“Oh, but I could not possibly deprive myself of the fun of calling at a gentleman’s lodging,” Lady Freyja assured her, setting her napkin beside her half-empty plate and getting to her feet. “Especially when there are stolen jewels and avengers in hot pursuit to add to the excitement.”

“Wulf will have your head anyway, Free,” Lady Morgan predicted.

Judith and Lady Freyja set out from Bedwyn House a short while later. They walked until they were well away from the square, and then Lady Freyja hailed a hackney cab and gave the driver Branwell’s address.

Judith found herself intrigued by her companion. Lady Freyja Bedwyn was dressed now in a smart green walking dress, her fair hair piled up beneath a fetching hat that Judith guessed must be in the very newest fashion. She was a small woman, and should have been ugly with her incongruously dark eyebrows, dark complexion, and prominent nose. But there was something that rescued her face from ugliness—an unconscious arrogance, a certain strength of character. She might almost be called handsome.

Judith’s spirits rose, knowing that finally she was going to see Bran, that she would be able to hear his story from his own lips. She fervently hoped he would be able to deny all knowledge of the theft of Grandmama’s jewels, but even if he could not then perhaps she would be in time to salvage something from the situation. Perhaps she could persuade him to restore the jewels and beg Grandmama’s pardon, inadequate as the gesture would be. Time was of the essence, though, she knew. She was very thankful that Rannulf had come after her and brought her to London so quickly.

Why had Horace decided to wait a whole day before pursuing her? she wondered. If he had hoped to catch Bran red-handed before he could dispose of the jewels, would he not have wanted to set out that very day? Had he waited perhaps because he knew there was no hurry? Because he knew there were no jewels for Bran to get rid of?

So much pointless speculation was sending her brain into a spin again.

The journey proved to be a wasted one. Branwell was not at home and his landlord did not know when to expect him.

“Though the ‘ole world ’as been arsking for ‘im last night and this morning,” he said, “And now two females. If that don’t beat all.”

“Mr. Law is my brother,” Judith explained. “I need him urgently on ... on family business.”

“Ah,” the man said, leering at them and revealing a wide array of half-rotten teeth, “I figured one of you was prob’ly ‘is sister.”

“Did you indeed, my man?” Lady Freyja said, looking at him along the length of her nose. “And did you also figure to amuse us with your impudent observation? Who else has been asking for Mr. Law?”

The man lost his leer and looked instantly more respectful. “Now that, begging your pardon, ma’am,” he said, “is confidential.”

“Of course it is,” Lady Freyja said briskly, opening her reticule. “And you are, of course, the soul of integrity. Who ?”

Judith’s eyes widened when she saw that her companion had drawn a bill worth five pounds from her reticule and was holding it folded between the middle and forefingers of one hand.

The landlord licked his lips and half reached out one hand. “There was someone come last night,” he said. “ ‘e was some nob’s servant, wearing blue and silver livery. Two gents come this morning and a tradesman right on their ’eels. I know ‘im—Mr. Cooke. I s’pose Mr. Branwell owes ’is bootmaker some money again. I din’t know them gents from Adam, and I din’t arsk, though they was both real nobs.

Then another gent come ‘ere just before you. I didn’t arsk ’o ‘e were neither. And I ain’t arsking ’o you are.“

Lady Freyja handed over the bribe though she had got precious little information for such a vast fortune.

Judith looked on aghast. Bran’s creditors were still after him, then. Who were the three gentlemen? Lord Rannulf and two others? Or Lord Rannulf and one of his brothers and one other?

Horace?

Where on earth was Bran? Was he just out for the morning? Selling or pawning some jewels perhaps?

Or had he left London again?

She felt sick to her stomach.

“Come along,” Lady Freyja said to her. “We will get no more information here, I believe.” She gave directions to the hackney cab driver. “Take us to Gunter’s.”

“I am so sorry,” Judith said. “I have no money with which to reimburse you. I—I left Leicestershire in such a hurry that I forgot to bring some. I will have to repay you some other time.” But when ?

“Oh, pooh,” Lady Freyja said with a dismissive wave of one hand. “That is nothing. But I wish we might have been more royally entertained. You do not really believe your brother is the thief, do you? I far prefer the idea of its being Mr. Effingham. I have set eyes on him once or twice. He gives me the shudders though he presents all the appearance of believing himself to be the consummate ladies’ man.”

“I do hope ,” Judith said fervently, “that he is the guilty one. But however am I to prove it?”

Gunter’s, she discovered, sold ices. What an indescribable luxury! And in the morning too. She and Lady Freyja sat at one of the tables, and Judith took small mouthfuls from her spoon and savored every one, letting the ice melt on her tongue before swallowing. It seemed strange to indulge her senses this way when disaster hovered about every corner.

Whatever was she going to do next? She could not keep on staying at Bedwyn House or keep on relying on Rannulf to fight her battles. Yet there was no hope that she could move into Branwell’s rooms and await his return.

What was she going to do?

The Duke of Bewcastle, having returned at dawn from a night spent with his mistress, had gone out for his usual early morning ride with his brothers and sisters. He had gone to White’s for breakfast afterward, but did not then proceed to the House of Lords, the spring session having finally ended two days before.

In fact, had his sisters not arrived unexpectedly from the country just two days before that, he would probably have been at home in Lindsey Park by this time to spend the rest of the summer.

He returned home from White’s and withdrew to his library for the rest of the morning to deal with some correspondence. He looked up with a frown not half an hour later when his butler tapped on the door and opened it.

“There is a Mr. Effingham waiting in the hall to see you, your grace,” he said. “Shall I tell him you are from home?”

“Effingham?” The duke frowned. The whole melodrama surrounding Rannulf’s return to London the day before was something he would prefer to ignore. But the matter needed to be cleared up. He must go to Grandmaison before it was too late to see his grandmother. “No, show him in, Fleming.”

Horace Effingham was unknown to the Duke of Bewcastle. But he came striding into the library, smiling and confident, as if the two of them were blood brothers. The duke did not rise. Effingham strode across to his desk and half leaned across it, his right arm outstretched.

“It is good of you to see me, Bewcastle,” he said.

His grace availed himself of his quizzing glass, through which he looked briefly at the offered hand before letting the glass fall on its ribbon against his chest.

“Effingham?” he said. “What may I do for you?”

The other man smiled even more broadly as he withdrew his hand. He looked about as if for a chair, did not see one close by, and so continued to stand.

“I understand that your brother is in residence here again,” he said.

“Do you?” his grace said. “I trust that my butler has seen fit to inform my cook. I do, of course, have three brothers.”

Effingham laughed. “I referred to Lord Rannulf Bedwyn,” he said.

“Ah, quite so,” the duke said.

There was a short silence during which Effingham appeared disconcerted for a moment.

“I must ask your grace,” he said, “if he brought a lady here with him. A Miss Judith Law?”

“You must ask?” The duke’s eyebrows rose.

Effingham set both hands flat on the desk and leaned slightly across it. “Perhaps you do not know,” he said, “that if she is here, you are harboring a criminal and a fugitive. It is a crime in itself, your grace, though I am certain you would not continue to harbor her once you knew the truth.”

“It is a relief,” his grace said, repossessing himself of his quizzing glass, “to know that I hold such a high place in your esteem.”

Effingham laughed heartily. “Is Miss Law here, Bewcastle?” he asked.

“It is my understanding,” the duke said, half raising the glass, “that rape is also a felony. When the charge is merely attempted rape, of course, a conviction might be less assured. But the word of two persons against one might carry some weight with a judge and jury, especially when one of those persons is the brother of a duke. Can you find your own way out, or shall I summon my butler?”

Effingham straightened up, all pretense of affability gone.

“I am on my way to hire a Bow Street Runner,” he said. “I plan to run them to earth, you know, Judith and Branwell Law. And I mean to recover my step grandmother's jewels. There will be a nice little scandal surrounding the trial and sentencing, I daresay. If I were you, your grace, I would distance myself from it and advise your brother to do the same.”

“I am infinitely grateful,” the Duke of Bewcastle said, raising his glass all the way to his eye, “that you esteem me sufficiently to come all the way to Bedwyn House to advise me. You will close the door quietly on your way out?”

Effingham was slightly white about the mouth. He nodded slowly before turning on his heel and striding out. He banged the door shut.

His grace looked after him thoughtfully.