Trouble With Harry Page 23

  It took some convincing, but at last Harry managed to get Plum and the children off toward home, but only after he promised both ladies that he would fill them in with all the information he gleaned from the hoodlum.

  “And now, my good fellow, let us have a little discussion,” Harry said cheerfully as he turned back to the battered man. Nick grinned. The man looked like he was going to be sick.

  It didn’t take much to make the bloodied man talk—faced with the threat of a couple of fingers broken, he sang like a nightingale—but unfortunately, he was evidently not in the confidence of the man who had arranged the kidnapping.

  “I don’t know ’im,” the thug Davey whined, nursing his fingers. “Max, ’e was me boss. I worked for ’im. Max is the one what knew ’is nibs.”

  “His nibs? The man who hired Max was a gentleman?”

  “Aye, talked right proper, and dressed fair to make yer eyes water.”

  “His name,” Harry snarled.

  “Don’t know it, ’onest I don’t!” Davey shrieked as Harry raised his fist. “Max never tol’ me, ’e just said as we ’ad a job to snaffle some cossets, that’s all ’e be tellin’ me, so ’elp me God!”

  Harry questioned the man for an hour before he passed out, but long before that he realized that what the man claimed was true—he was just an underling, hired as a body to help kidnap the children, nothing more. He damned the situation that left the leader, Max, insensible. He was so close to finding out who was behind the attacks. If only he had arrived earlier…

  “Can you take care of them, Nick?”

  “I’d be happy to,” Nick said as he heaved the unconscious man none too gently onto his shoulder. “I’ll take him to the police, shall I?”

  “Yes.” Harry stood staring down at the ginger-haired Max. “I’d best speak to the magistrate about this, but first I’m going to have a sketch of his face made and take it to the Home Office. Maybe someone will recognize him.”

  Nick hesitated, worry furrowing his brow. “Are you in some sort of trouble?”

  Harry swore under his breath as he turned away from the man. His face was grim and set with determination as he admitted the truth to himself. He was no closer to naming the man behind the plot against his family. He would have to redouble his attempts to dig out the proof that was needed to identify the villain. “It’s nothing I can’t take care of.”

  Fifteen

  “Well?” Thom asked two days later as she burst into Plum’s sitting room.

  “I have an appointment tonight to meet with a man your burglar says will take care of my problem,” Plum said triumphantly.

  “Oh, thank heavens,” Thom said, plopping gracelessly into a nearby chair. “I just knew Nick wouldn’t let me down. He’s so wonderful, don’t you think? He was very brave at Vauxhall.”

  Plum glanced from her niece to the letter she’d received from the burglar named Nick. “He writes legibly, I’ll give him that, but Thom—he’s a burglar.”

  “I know,” Thom said, kicking her foot idly as she slouched back. “He’s a very good one, too, I’m sure.”

  “A burglar is not at all a suitable beau for a young woman of your family,” Plum said sternly, although she suspected it would do little good. Thom was always rescuing some needy creature or another—usually it was cats and dogs, but evidently now she’d felt this burglar needed saving. “I’m sure he’s not at all nice for you to know. He isn’t—”

  Thom’s face set into a mulish expression as she sat up. “He isn’t what?”

  Plum’s hands fluttered about expressively. She hated to sound like a snob, but there were limits to how far she was willing to bend for Thom, and burglars were that limit. “He’s not a gentleman.”

  “Hrmph. I don’t care about that. He’s my friend. I like him. And he saved Harry’s children from certain death. Twice!”

  Plum bit back her objections. Thom was absolutely right, no matter how unsuitable the young man was for her, he had saved the children, and for that she would be eternally grateful to him. Perhaps once Harry had caught the person responsible for the horrible attacks, she could do something for the man. Clean him up, educate him, find him a good job… “As you say, we all owe him a great deal, and I will be happy to do what I can to show my gratitude. Now, I have been busy writing, and I’d like your opinion on some of the scenarios I’ve created.”

  “Scenarios?” Thom leaned forward to peer at the sheets of paper on Plum’s writing desk. “What scenarios?”

  “Scenarios for Charles, of course. Oh, speaking of him, I’ve had another letter. That makes the third in as many days.”

  Thom made a rude face. Plum, who agreed wholeheartedly with her niece’s unspoken opinion, said nothing but handed the letter over, watching as Thom read it with growing indignation.

  “He has nerve threatening you like that! How dare he?”

  “Evidently he feels that my lack of response to his demands for money are an indication I am not taking care of the matter.” A particularly unwholesome—for one Mr. Charles de Spenser—smile curled her lips. “Little does he know that I am, indeed, taking steps to resolve the situation.”

  Thom smirked, tossing the letter back onto Plum’s desk. “The beastly man. I should just like to see him make good his threats. Harry has so many men attending us whenever we go out, a butterfly couldn’t get through their defenses.”

  The smile left Plum’s face at the reminder of the cloud that hung over their heads. “Yes. I do hope he finds out soon who is behind the attacks. The stress of it is weighing very heavy on Harry. Last night he only had the strength for one—” Plum stopped, blushing a little as she realized what she had been about to impart to her niece.

  “Yes?” Thom asked brightly, a wicked glint to her eyes.

  “Never mind, it doesn’t concern you. Now, let us go over these scenarios I have created.”

  Thom smiled. “You are the only woman I know who has the strength of mind to create scenarios for the murder of her ex-husband-who-wasn’t.”

  “Murder!” Plum looked up in surprise. “Oh, no, Thom! I gave that idea up days ago. These scenarios are regarding Charles’s scandal, not murder!”

  “But…but…you said you wanted him killed! I saw you attempting to garrote Shakespeare’s head!”

  “That was days ago,” Plum said, waving away the idea. “I changed my mind that very day when I realized I didn’t have the stomach to kill Charles. No, this plan is much better. I will hold the threat of a scandal over his head so that he is forced to keep silent on the subject of me. I have several excellent scandals planned.”

  “But I told Nick—he thinks you want someone to kill Charles!” Thom’s eyes were wide with worry.

  “I don’t!” Plum objected.

  “I know that now, but I didn’t when I wrote to Nick!”

  Plum’s straight brows pulled together as she mulled over what to do with an unwanted murderous henchman, deciding after a few minutes of contemplation that since she was paying him, he would just have to do as she told him. “He will simply have to revise his expectations. If he does not agree to participate in the scandal creation, I will find someone who will. Now, let me show you what I have come up with.”

  “I don’t understand why you have to create scenarios at all,” Thom complained, obligingly pulling up her armchair to sit next to Plum. “After everything I’ve seen of the ton, it seems all you have to do is look sideways at someone and you have a scandal.”

  “It’s not quite that easy. The threat of the scandal is what I will use, not the event itself. For that reason, I have used my literary skills to draw up several convincing scenarios.”

  “The Shameful Secret Truth Regarding a Viscount’s Youngest Son and His Unnatural Love for a Milk Cow Named Junie,” Thom read aloud. “Well, I like the title. Very lively and colorful.”

  “Thank you,�
�� Plum said modestly. “I have always felt I had a gift for turning a neat phrase.”

  “Mmm. What’s the next one?”

  “I call it simply Lost His Wits and Believes He’s a Large Willow Tree on Hampstead Heath. As you can see, it is a bit more involved in that Charles has to be first drugged, then taken to Hampstead Heath where several willow fronds will be tied to his arms.”

  “Very interesting,” Thom said. She tapped a finger on the bottom of the paper. “And the loosed tigers?”

  “They are there to throw suspicion away from anyone who might have noticed that Charles was drugged. I thought that a particularly clever touch in that it will confuse people. Otherwise, they might just think it was a jest on the part of his livelier friends, and dismiss the idea that he was insane.”

  Thom frowned. “But wouldn’t a tiger be likely to maul innocent passersby?”

  “Yes, but if you read the note at the bottom, the tigers’ handlers are to be available at all times in order to keep an unwanted tragedy from occurring. The tigers are there just to cause confusion, really. If you were there and tigers were on the loose, would you stop to consider whether or not a man dressed as a tree had been drugged?”

  “No, I suppose I wouldn’t. That is a good distraction. And the third scenario?”

  “The tigers gave me this idea. It’s called Soulless Wretch of a Man Who Enrages and Torments Innocent Bear Cubs. That is a bit more difficult to enact, since a bear cub must be found and enraged before it can be discovered with Charles, but I am convinced it would work.”

  “Yes, I see your point.”

  Plum nodded sagely. “I have two more scenarios, but I’m not as pleased with them as I am the first three. I will present them to the murderer that your burglar found, and convince him that it’s much better to simply arrange for a scandal than to murder Charles.”

  Thom didn’t look convinced, although she said, “If you say so. When do you meet with him? And may I come with you?”

  “Tonight.” Plum eyed her niece, chewing on her lip as she thought how best to phrase her request. “I don’t want Harry to know where I’m going.”

  “No, of course not,” Thom said, supportive to the end.

  “So I thought to tell him that you and I had been invited to a recital. Harry dislikes recitals—he says they bore him to tears, so if he thought that we were going to one, he might not insist on accompanying us.”

  “But he would send Juan and the footmen with us.”

  “Yes, but here’s where it pays to have a devious mind—I have written to Lady Davell, and told her how well I’ve heard her oldest daughter plays and sings, and as I expected, she invited us to an intimate dinner so we can hear the girl. I’ve accepted on your and my behalf, and to Sir Ben’s we will go…only I will make an excuse early on and return home. Or they’ll think I will.”

  “Oh!” Thom said, her eyes full of admiration. “But really you’ll go to meet the murderer!”

  “Exactly.” Plum smiled, pleased that Thom grasped the finer nuances of her plan. “I shall slip out of the house with no one the wiser, returning home after I am done.”

  “There’s just one thing—you won’t have anyone to protect you if you slip out unnoticed. What if you are attacked?”

  “The accidents have all involved the children, not me. I’m quite certain no one is the least bit interested in me.”

  “Harry won’t like it,” Thom said doubtfully.

  “Harry won’t know, so it won’t disturb him. Will it?” Plum asked with meaningful emphasis.

  “No, I suppose not. I do wish I could come with you to meet the murderer. I’ve never met one before, and if he’s anything like Nick—”

  “I’m sure he won’t be. You said Nick turned down the opportunity to do the task himself, which I admit shows a niceness I hadn’t expected in a burglar, but still, a murderer is a different sort of individual altogether. Now, here’s what I want you to say in case Harry decides he wishes to accompany us—”

  Her worries were for naught. Harry, who had been acting a bit strangely ever since he returned from a visit to his friend Lord Weston’s house—he was prone to subjecting her to odd, unreadable looks—posed no objections when she mentioned casually that she and Thom had been invited to dinner at the unexceptional Sir Ben Davell’s.

  “I have an engagement myself this evening,” he said, giving her yet another of those odd, piercing glances, as if he wanted to speak to her about a subject, but couldn’t bring himself to it.

  “Oh, do you? Something to do with the situation?” Plum asked in a whisper, casting a worried glance over to where the children were playing a game of Goose.

  “It has to do with a situation, yes,” Harry said, his beautiful changeable eyes filled with enigma.

  Plum, who half expected her conscience to object to going behind her husband’s back rather than enlisting his aid with a problem, was pleased to find that about this, at least, her conscience was quiet. Charles was her problem, and it was her responsibility to see to it that he was taken care of just as Harry was responsible for seeing to the children’s safety.

  The similarity of their situations struck her in a manner so profound that Plum was able to kiss the children good night and wish Harry a pleasant evening without the slightest twinge of guilt. She was doing this for his sake, for all their sakes, and although it was undoubtedly a sin to willingly threaten another person with scandal, Charles was a detestable snake, and no doubt the good Lord would understand her actions.

  In fact, Plum reflected a few hours later as she made her escape by a side door of Sir Ben’s house, the ease with which her plan was enacted seemed to be proof of a blessing from on high. She hailed a hack loitering around the square and ordered him to take her to Green Park. Once there the man was agreeable enough to wait for her return.

  “I shouldn’t be long,” she told him as he handed her out of the carriage.

  “I’ll wait for ’owever long ye need me,” the man said.

  She smiled and gave him a coin for his trouble. The poor man looked as if he could use it—he actually had a hook in place of his left hand.

  Five minutes later the large young man named Nick stepped out from behind one of the trees lining the walk. He was dressed shabbily, but he met her gaze without wavering, and she renewed her intentions to do something to repay him for his kindness in saving the children.

  “Lady Rosse? We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Nick Britton. Do you still wish to go ahead with your plan?”

  Plum clutched her reticule nervously. She was not a fool; she knew that ladies who wandered around parks after dark were leaving themselves open to attention from less than desirable individuals, which is why she brought along one of the pistols she had found in the bottom of Harry’s desk. It was a very small pistol to be sure, but she had great faith that it would dissuade anyone who bothered her. Although she probably had nothing to fear from a mere burglar, she would take no chances. The pistol was loaded and ready to be pulled out at the first sign of trouble. “Yes, I do wish to go ahead with it, although with one slight change. I don’t want the man killed. My niece misunderstood my plan, you see, and she thought I was looking for a murderer, when what I really need is someone who will assist me in arranging for a scandal.”

  Nick looked startled for a moment, then rubbed a hand across his mouth, mumbling his answer through his fingers. “I see. Yes, that is quite a misunderstanding. I’m sure the…er…individual you have hired will be most interested to hear the truth.”

  Plum bit her lip. “You don’t think he’ll be disappointed, do you? I should hate to have a disappointed murderer on my hands. I imagine they are difficult enough to deal with when they are happy.”

  Nick bowed his head and looked to the side, where trees threw black shadows so dark that not even the light from the lamps on the street could penetrate it
. “I should say that this man will not be in the least bit disappointed, but perhaps I had better let him tell you that in person. Good luck, Lady Rosse.”

  Plum watched nervously as Nick left. She had assumed he would stay with her while she met with the murderer, receiving an odd sort of comfort from the knowledge that she wasn’t alone, but that, she said to herself as she reached into the reticule for the pistol, was just how much she knew about the underworld. Evidently one didn’t meet with one’s murderer in the presence of a mere burglar.

  “Lady Rosse?”

  A man stood in shadow against the tree, his voice rough and uncouth.

  “Yes, I am Lady Rosse. Might I know your name?”

  “No. The boy tells me you want some gentry cove orfed.”

  “Orfed? I’m not sure—”

  “Killed.”

  “Oh, yes. That is, no, I don’t want a gentleman…er…dispatched. I never did. Well, I did, but I changed my mind almost immediately. I want the gentleman scandalized. I have several scenarios…oh, blast! I left them at home! How could I be so stupid?” Plum stamped her foot with frustration. She had forgotten all about the scenarios in her rush to escape without Harry deciding to join them. “Well, I had several scenarios for causing a scandal that would ensure the gentleman holds his tongue, but I shall have to send them to you later. As for your fee—”

  The shadow moved, as if he had shifted his weight, leaning against the tree. “You don’t want the man killed?”

  “No, of course not! What do you take me for?”

  The murderer seemed to be at a loss for a moment, growling a low, “That’s what I was told.”

  “Well, you were told incorrectly,” Plum answered righteously. “If you are not flexible enough to follow along with this change of plans, I must dismiss you and hire someone a little less obstinate and set in his ways.”

  The murderer took a deep breath. “Why do you want to make a scandal about this cove?”

  Plum frowned at the man’s tone of impatience, but decided not to make too much of it. Murderers were not known for their pleasant tempers. “That is a private issue, one I do not intend to discuss with you. Your task is to create the situation that will lead to a heinous scandal unless I step in to prohibit it.”