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‘How about drawing straws?’ sneered Captain Hambleton.
‘Yes,’ said Lieutenant Thurnham eagerly. ‘Place it in the hands of fate.’
‘Are you sure you only want one man for your...task?’ Lieutenant Nateby said, twirling his brandy glass round and round. ‘If it is as difficult and dangerous as you were suggesting before Captain Bretherton joined us,’ he said, darting a rather sardonic smile at Harry, ‘then it might be easier to accomplish if two of us joined forces.’
‘No,’ said Lieutenant Thurnham. ‘That would mean splitting the fee. Unless you would pay each of us the same amount you mentioned?’
‘This is a job for one man, working alone,’ said Rawcliffe repressively.
‘Oh, well then,’ said Lieutenant Thurnham with a shrug, ‘let us draw straws. Save you the pain of making the decision about which one of us to pick.’
Rawcliffe already knew which one of them he should pick. Dammit, Archie had been one of his oldest friends. If anyone had the right to hunt down his murderer and bring him to justice, it was he. Rawcliffe and Becconsall had no business hiring men to do the job. Not when they knew he, Harry, would have done it for nothing.
‘A sensible solution,’ said Rawcliffe, infuriating him still further. ‘Kendall!’
His footman poked his head round the door. ‘Yes, my lord?’
‘Procure four straws. Three cut short and one left long. Then come back and present them to these four gentlemen one at a time, in the prescribed manner.’
‘Yes, my lord,’ said Kendall, leaving at once.
Harry clenched his fists on his lap. All five men at the table sat in silence, broken only by the grating noise of Captain Hambleton dragging the ale jug across the table, then refilling his tankard.
Good god, did Rawcliffe and Becconsall really consider such a fellow preferable to him? To bring their friend’s murderer to justice? True, Harry had felt, and looked, a mere shadow of his former self when he’d first returned to England. And, admittedly, he’d been drinking too much. But even foxed, and at half-strength, surely he was more suitable, not to say reliable, than any of these three?
Kendall returned after only a brief interval. Though heaven alone knew where the fellow could have found any straw in this neck of the woods. He made as if to hand the bunch of straws over to his master, but Rawcliffe held up his hand.
‘No, it is better if you present them to the candidates for the post. Less chance of anyone accusing me of cutting a sham, should they be disappointed.’
‘Seems fair,’ said Thurnham, holding out his hand.
‘Hold hard,’ said Captain Hambleton. ‘We should do this according to rank.’
Kendall raised his brows in a manner that wouldn’t have looked out of place in a drawing room. ‘We will do this,’ he said repressively, ‘according to who’s nearest the door. And that’s this fellow.’ He extended his fist in the direction of Lieutenant Nateby, who gave his senior officer an insolent grin before plucking out one straw.
It was hard to tell whether it was short or long compared to those still clenched in Kendall’s fist. The only thing anyone could tell for certain, when Nateby held it aloft, was that it was about four inches long.
‘Have I won?’
If he had, then why was Kendall offering the remaining straws to Lieutenant Thurnham? The straw he drew was of the same length as Nateby’s. Which meant that Kendall must be still holding a much longer one.
Kendall held out his fist to Harry. ‘Your turn, Captain,’ he said.
Harry studied both remaining straws carefully, his heart pounding sickeningly. He had to pull out the long straw, he just had to. He’d been robbed of too much, these past few years. His command, his liberty, his health, his self-respect and, finally, his timid, yet loyal, friend Archie. He couldn’t lose the right to avenge him, too. It would be...well, the last straw.
He closed his eyes, briefly, took a deep breath and laid hold of one of the two remaining straws clutched in Kendall’s fist. And tugged at it. And kept on tugging as, slowly, the length of it kept on emerging.
He breathed again. He’d got the long straw. And the job.
Kendall ushered the other three men out of the room, amidst much grumbling and cursing. Leaving him alone at the table with the Marquis of Rawcliffe.
A man who claimed to be his friend.
‘I can’t believe,’ Harry growled, ‘that you could even consider hiring anyone else. I was the obvious candidate all along.’
Rawcliffe’s thin mouth clenched into a hard line. ‘No, you were not. I thought you heard me explaining that this task will entail acting in a dishonourable fashion. And you are not a dishonourable man.’
‘You have no idea what kind of man I am nowadays.’
‘We didn’t give you the nickname of Atlas for nothing. You—’
‘You see? You are basing your judgement on the boy you used to know at school. You have no idea how much I may have changed since then. And don’t bring up the letters I wrote bragging about my so-called heroic exploits. Most of them were a pack of lies.’
‘You stayed with me for weeks this spring. Until I married Clare—’
‘And you didn’t notice how much brandy I got through? Or how keen I was to sponge off you? Are those the actions of...?’ He stopped and ran his trembling fingers through his hair, slightly stunned by the fact that he was deliberately trying to persuade a man he was dishonourable, as though it was an asset, when, ever since his release from his French captors, he’d been wallowing in the certainty he was no longer of any use to anyone.
‘You ceased sponging off me, as you like to put it, the moment you knew I was to marry. I know that since then you have been living in extremely reduced circumstances, quite unnecessarily, I might add—’
There he went again—trying to attribute noble motives to account for his actions. When the truth was that since their marriages, both Rawcliffe and Becconsall had been so nauseatingly happy Harry could hardly stand being anywhere near either of them. Or their frilly little wives.
‘Look, Rawcliffe, while you’ve been living in idleness for the last dozen years, I have been sailing all over the world fighting England’s enemies. I’ve employed whatever means necessary to destroy them. Whatever means. There isn’t a dirty trick I haven’t resorted to, if it has meant preserving the lives of my men, or slaughtering our foes. Didn’t you think I’d be prepared to go to the same lengths, to bring Archie’s murderer to justice?’
‘To be frank, no, we didn’t. You didn’t seem to care about anything much, beyond getting to the bottom of the next bottle.’
That took the wind out of Harry’s sails. Even though the jibe had been well deserved.
‘Look,’ said Harry, ‘when you and Ulysses started getting all worked up over the disappearance of some jewels, I admit, I couldn’t get the slightest bit interested.’ What did he care about the baubles that hung round the necks of fat, old, rich women, when out there, on the high seas, men who deserved so much better were daily being ground to pulp by cannon or shredded by flying splinters? Especially when he knew that those same pampered matrons would turn their noses up at the odour those men produced, due to a combination of their hard work and lack of sanitary conveniences? ‘And I could see that Ulysses was just looking for an excuse to impress Lady Harriet, anyway. And that when you went off on that search for the thief, it was a way to relieve the tedium of your existence. In the same way, when Archie went down to Dorset to visit that old relative of his, who seemed to be implicated in some way, I just thought it would do him good to stop hanging on your coat-tails and prove himself.’
Now it was Rawcliffe’s turn to flinch. At least, he began to tap his forefinger on the stem of his wineglass, which was the nearest he ever got to displaying agitation.
‘But somebody killed him,’ Harry continued. ‘That changes everything.’
‘Not quite everything. To be frank, neither of us think that you have the stomach to employ the stratagem which Ulysses and I have deemed necessary.’
‘Haven’t the stomach for it?’ That was one thing about himself he’d never doubted. He might have done a lot of foolish things, but nobody could deny he’d fought like a tiger to try and mitigate the results of his mistakes. ‘I am no coward.’
‘It isn’t a question of cowardice. And don’t repeat your excuse about me not knowing you any more. You have been back in England for several months, during which time I have had ample opportunity to discover what kind of man you have grown to be. You were the only one of us, remember, who made any attempt to defend poor Lady Harriet, when we found her in the park, alone, at dawn. The only one to treat her with respect.’
‘Well, that’s different. A female...alone...’
‘Well, that’s just it,’ said Rawcliffe with a touch of impatience. ‘The task of bringing Archie’s murderer to justice is going to involve deceiving a female. A gently born female. It is at the very heart of the plan Ulysses came up with. And unless I’m very much mistaken, seducing a gullible virgin is not something you would be comfortable doing.’
‘Seducing a...?’ He shook his head. Then looked at the straw clutched in his fingers. ‘It’s too late now. It appears to be my fate.’ And anyway, could anything he did make him despise himself more than he already did?
‘Damn fate!’ Rawcliffe slapped his open palm on the table, in a display of emotion that was so uncharacteristic it made Harry jump. ‘I don’t have so many friends I can afford to lose another one.’
Just like that, Harry understood why Rawcliffe had held this meeting in secret. Had made plans with Becconsall behind his back, too. People might assume Rawcliffe was cold-blooded and unfeeling, but he wasn’t. It was all a façade. Behind it beat the heart of a man who detested injustice. He hadn’t changed all that much since he’d been a boy at Eton, either. Not deep down, where it counted. At Eton, they’d given Rawcliffe the nickname of Zeus, not simply because he out ranked them all, but because he really was a natural leader. Just as they’d nicknamed him Atlas, because not only was he bigger and stronger than anyone else in the school, but he’d been willing to take on the burdens of those who needed his protection. And Becconsall, the third of their band of brothers, had been Ulysses. So named for his cunning and intelligence.
He’d never forged friendships like the ones he’d formed at that school, even though he’d been there for such a comparatively short time.
‘Seducing a gullible virgin doesn’t sound all that dangerous.’
‘Going to visit an elderly relative didn’t sound all that dangerous when I let Archie go and do so, either, did it? The point is, there is somebody down there in Dorset who is cunning enough to plan the theft of jewels in such a way that it took years, in some cases, for the theft to even be discovered. And with the connections that enabled him to introduce jewel thieves into the houses of members of the ton, in the guise of ladies’ maids. That person is also ruthless enough to commit murder in order to keep his crimes from being discovered. So we need someone as cunning, and as ruthless, to withstand him.’
‘I have already declared myself willing to do whatever it might take. Even to the point of seduction. Though to be frank, whatever female you have selected for this process would fare better with me than with the likes of Thurnham or Nateby. I, at least, won’t debauch her.’
Rawcliffe looked at him for a second or two, his face blank, though Harry knew it was a mask he adopted to conceal what he was thinking.
‘And Archie,’ Harry continued, ‘was not only a civilian, but a scientist. He had no idea how to spot a liar, or a rogue. Whereas I am not only an experienced fighting man, but have lived in close quarters with some of the most despicable criminals on earth. Men who chose to serve in the navy rather than go to the gallows.’
‘There was a good reason,’ said Rawcliffe thoughtfully, ‘why I sought candidates for the job amongst other naval men. The ability to handle a boat might come in handy.’
Harry’s heart picked up speed. ‘There you are, you see? And you can trust me, which you could not do with the others. They would not have had the zeal I can bring to the table.’
‘You are still not fit for active duty, though, are you? If it comes to a fight...’
‘I am much stronger than I was. Getting stronger every day. And anyway, isn’t it better that our enemy underestimates me?’
Rawcliffe’s cool grey eyes narrowed. ‘Actually, in one way,’ he said thoughtfully, ‘your physical condition is an advantage. It will provide the perfect cover for you to be in Bath. Where the young lady who is pivotal to the investigation is currently staying.’
Harry leaned back in his chair. The job was his.
‘Why don’t you just tell me what dastardly plan you and Ulysses have cooked up between you? And then let me decide if I’m the man to carry it out.’
Or not.
Chapter Two (#ufb3213a9-d763-5190-9357-c30d2bea89af)
Lizzie took the cup of water from the hand of the footman who had just drawn it from the pump and turned hastily. The rooms were particularly crowded this morning and she’d been queuing for what felt like an eternity. Grandfather would certainly think so. Waiting in his chair by the fireplace, he would be tapping his cane on the floor by now, his temper rising with each second that passed.
Though it wasn’t even as if he’d wish to leave once she’d brought him his daily dose of the water which was supposed to be the cure for his gout, since so many of his cronies were here for the season. He’d be gossiping for ages long after he’d downed his medicinal cup of water, while she would have to stand behind his chair, still as a statue lest he accuse her of fidgeting.
Nevertheless, she’d annoy him less if she made it look as if she’d completed this errand as quickly as she could.
As she stepped back to make her way out of the throng pressing round the pump, her shoulder caught on something. Something that felt rather like a brick wall. And which said, ‘Oof!’, just before she heard the distinctive sound of a cup clattering to the floor.
‘Oh, no...oh, dear,’ she said, turning to make her apologies to whoever it was she’d just stumbled into. And finding herself on a level with a very determined chin. Above that was a full-lipped mouth and above that was a rather blunt nose, sprinkled with freckles. And above that, a pair of the bluest, saddest eyes she’d ever seen.
‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, her cheeks heating, though the Lord alone knew why. She had to apologise so often for blundering into someone or something that she ought to be used to it by now. It was just that this man was so...tall. And so solid. Most people would have staggered back under the force of her weight, applied directly to their midriff. Or even fallen right over. In fact, it was a miracle, given that the place was full of the frail and elderly, that she hadn’t knocked anyone over yet this season.
But this man hadn’t budged as much as an inch.
Which meant they were standing far too close to each other.
She took a hasty half-step back. Immediately his facial features blurred into a pale oval topped by a neat thatch of closely cropped black hair.
‘Your cup...’ she began with mortification. It would be of no use attempting to pick it up. She had no idea where it had gone and her eyesight was too poor to bother making a search. ‘I shall go and fetch you another...’
As she made to move, something that felt like a wooden vice gripped her by the elbow.
‘Oh, no, you don’t,’ said the large man, in a firm voice. ‘I mean, that is to say,’ he said in a much lighter tone, ‘you have no need to fetch me another. No need at all.’
‘But I—’
‘No,’ he said, in that same firm tone. Then he leaned in and murmured, ‘You have just saved me from a terrible fate. Do not, I beg of you, undo your good work now.’
‘A terrible... My good... What?’
‘I know the water is supposed to be good for my health, but...’ He shrugged. With a pair of shoulders the width of a mantelpiece.
‘Oh,’ she said. Or rather, sighed. Yes, the sound that had just come out of her mouth had definitely contained far more sigh than sense.
‘May I,’ said the enormous, solid man, ‘be permitted to know your name? So that I may render due gratitude to my redeemer?’
She wasn’t sure, afterwards, if it was the slightly mocking allusion to scripture, or the jocular tone of his voice, but she suddenly felt as if she was making a bit of a fool of herself, standing so close to a man she didn’t know, and feeling all... Well, she wasn’t sure what she was feeling. Only that she’d never felt anything like it before.
And also, that no matter what he was making her feel, she really ought allow him to keep hold of her elbow in that proprietorial manner.
She lifted her chin.
And promptly thought better of saying anything cutting. He’d been so forgiving of her clumsiness. Shouldn’t she return the favour by forgiving his forwardness?
‘It is...’ No, she couldn’t simply give him her name. That was not at all the proper thing to do. Why, he could be anybody.
‘Miss...?’ he prompted her.
She ought to step away from him. Why couldn’t she? ‘Step,’ she finished. For it would indeed be a misstep to act in such a fast manner.
‘Miss Step?’ His dark brows raised. He shook his head. ‘Are you quite sure?’
‘Yes, I...’ She glanced in the direction of the fireplace and her grandfather’s chair. ‘In fact, I ought to be...’
‘Because you have the distinct look of the Cheevers family.’
‘Cheevers?’
‘Yes, I have the distinct impression you are, decidedly, Miss Cheevers.’
He ran the two words together so that it sounded as though he’d said mischievous. Her breath caught in her throat. Good heavens, was he...teasing her? Flirting with her? No, no, he couldn’t possibly be doing that. He’d looked sensible, when she’d been close enough to make out the expression on his face.
‘I am not being mischievous,’ she retorted. And then, heaven alone knew why, she succumbed to the temptation to add, ‘You are clearly Miss Taken.’
He laughed. The sound erupted from his mouth as though it had taken him completely by surprise.
‘No, no, I am no sort of Miss at all. Though clearly you believe I have committed a Miss Demeanour, by being so bold as to ask for your true name.’
‘It was a piece of rank Miss Conduct.’
