Francesca (6 page)

“One does not go to Stop Hole Abbey in daylight, my good fellow. One approaches under cover of darkness. Arrangements have to be made. I’m meeting a scapegallows at midnight. He’s on the star lag.”
Mr. Caine looked a question at him. “Don’t you know
anything,
Caine? The fellow busts windows and runs off with the loot. Care to come along?”

“Only if I am needed,”
Mr. Caine said reluctantly.

“Not necessary. Two ears are as good as four. I just thought a sparkish fellow like you might enjoy the spree.”

Mr. Caine was flattered to be called a sparkish fellow, but he always preferred to avoid anything smelling of a spree. Francesca’s sprees were more than enough excitement for him. “Not if I can help it, thank you.”

“What the deuce is a fellow like you doing running around with the infamous Frankie Devlin if you ain’t up to all the rigs? I mean, she’s not exactly a prude, is she?”

“Oh, she is troubled, poor girl. To tell the truth, I am getting tired of pulling her chestnuts from the fire. She is too frivolous for my taste. Leading men on—but there is no vice in her after all. Her innocence leads her astray. Pray forget I said a word against her. I’ll call on you tomorrow morning if you’re free?”

“Not before noon, if you please. I never rise or drink before the sun is at its zenith.”

Mr. Caine thanked his friend and left. He had little notion how he might help find the necklace, but knew lightskirts hung out at the Pantheon, and went there, to squint at all the ladies’
throats, in hopes of seeing the crown-shaped pendant. He fancied that what he saw was mostly strass glass, and went home at midnight, thinking of Mr. Irwin on his way to meet with criminals and ruffians.

He would not desert Francesca in her hour of need, but after this was over, he meant to go back home to Surrey. She was not his problem after all, and he was tired of London.

Lord Devane, seated at a table in the middle of the room, noticed when Caine left, and at the end of his game he strolled nonchalantly toward Mr. Irwin. He knew the man to nod to, but couldn’t put a name to him. He had also recognized the brown-haired gent with him as a friend of Lady Camden’s. “Is this seat free?”
he asked in a casual manner.

“Ah, Lord Devane! Sit thee down, I pray. Delighted for some cheerful company. Have a glass of brandy.”
Irwin waved for a fresh glass, and poured his guest a shot.

“Was your friend, the man who just left, not cheerful company?”
Devane inquired blandly.

“Selby Caine cheerful? Ho, is a martyr cheerful? Is Job cheerful? I’ve never seen Caine smile in my life, though he’s a sound chap.”

“What troubles him?”

“The world troubles him, milord. He could find mischief lurking in an essay by Hannah More. He would prefer to live in a monastery or a hermit’s cave, I fancy. How he ever got mixed up with Lady Camden—”

“Ah, that would be the young lady I’ve seen him about with. A striking brunette?”
Mr. Irwin nodded. “Lovely girl, Lady Camden. I have met her once or twice.”

“Yes, but lovely is as lovely does, to coin a not very original phrase. A bit of a cutup, young Frankie Devlin.”

“Is that what folks call her, Frankie?”

“She used to be called Francesca, Fran for short, but when Camden stuck his fork in the wall, she turned into a hellion and changed her name to Frankie. Old Caine is fed up with her pranks. Damme! He asked me not to say so. Delete it from your memory, Lord Devane.”

“Consider it deleted, but just
entre nous”—
he
inclined his head forward in a man-to-man way that was irresistible to Irwin, especially when coming from the great Devane—
”
the lady is a bit of a dasher, eh?”

“Well, she ain’t a Bath Miss, that much at least I can say without shocking even Mr. Caine. She gave young Stanby pretty short shrift just last week. In short, milord, a gazetted flirt. But Caine tells me there is no vice in her. She lets it all out-ha-ha!”

Devane did not wish to be too obvious, and let the topic rest a moment. Irwin immediately broached the subject of names, to be precise, the name Rita. “Very popular with the muslin company this Season. You must have noticed—a man like you.”

“I can’t say it had occurred to me. I rather thought Marie held sway this year.”

“It’s as I said to Caine. The touch of French—
they think it glamorous.”
Irwin filled his own glass and topped off Lord Devane’s.

“Speaking of exotic names—Francesca, that would be Italian, would it not?”
Devane said, to return to his preferred subject.

“Sounds like it. Where the Wilsons picked up an Italian name is a mystery to me. They’re as English as cod.”

“Do you know Lady Camden well?”

Irwin’s smile was becoming a trifle unsteady. “She is a new acquaintance, but I shall know her better after I have—that is—er, soon.”

“Ah.”
The single syllable was fraught with conspiratorial, gentlemanly understanding.

Irwin put his finger aside his nose and tapped. “Diamonds,”
he said, nodding sagely.

“The lady has a fondness for diamonds, you mean?”

“Haven’t all ladies?”
Irwin asked cagily.

“They do seem to hold universal appeal.”

“Would you care for a hand of cards, Devane?”
Mr. Irwin asked.

“Delighted.”

“What is the hour?”
Irwin drew out his watch. “No, by gad, I must be off to Stop Hole Abbey for the diamonds. I’m visiting St. Peter’s son—the gents with fish hooks for fingers. Another time, Devane. Delightful chatting to you.”
He rose, bowed two or three times, and left at an unsteady gait. Devane heard someone call him “Irwin”
as he left.

Devane sat on alone, thinking. He had already heard rumors that Lady Camden was making a name for herself. The worst he had learned was that she was a flirt. That she was about to receive a diamond necklace from Irwin suggested her flirtation was stepping up to more advanced dalliance. And Irwin, the fool, was obtaining his bribe at Stop Hole Abbey. He might count himself fortunate if he didn’t end up in Newgate for buying stolen goods.

Devane did not by any means consider himself his brother’s keeper. His mind soon wandered off in a quite different direction. He had been to half a dozen routs and assemblies looking for Francesca. His mind played with the name. Its soft syllables suited her; Frankie, on the other hand, had a harsh, rowdy sound to it. He would call her Francesca when she was under his protection. But meanwhile, where was she hiding herself? Was the wench purposely staying away to whet his appetite?

She had declined an invitation to two unexceptionable house parties, but apparently welcomed a set of diamonds from a Mr. Irwin, of no particular consequence. She was either mad, or considered herself uncommonly clever. Perhaps she was using Irwin to make him jealous? He soon concluded this was her strategy, and decided two could play at that game. He would be seen around with the Season’s prettiest lightskirt. Marie Mondale, perhaps? He would escort her to Covent Garden the following evening. If Lady Camden did not attend, she would at least hear of it. Let her see a lady could play too hard to get.

The next morning Mr. Caine and Mr. Irwin came to call at Half Moon Street. “The diamonds were never sold at Stop Hole Abbey,”
Mr. Irwin announced. “Whoever has them, she’s sitting on them, as I said. I haven’t been able to discover who this Rita is that Camden was seeing, but I am seeing Rita Morrow as soon as I leave you. There is no guarantee she is the right Rita. There are half a dozen Ritas this Season. I shall return and let you know what develops, Lady Camden.”

“You are very kind, Mr. Irwin,”
she said, and smiled her appreciation. “I am sorry to put you to so much bother.”

“Why, it is pure pleasure for me, aiding a lady in distress.”

“Still, it is a great deal of bother.”

“If you wish to reward me, drive out with me when I return. Perhaps we will think of some other course to follow to retrieve the necklace.”

“I will be happy to.”

Mr. Caine stood in the corner, swaying and worrying while this conversation went forth. At its end, he left with Irwin, and Mrs. Denver said. “Mr. Irwin has an eye for you, Fran. You must not encourage him unless—”

“Set up a flirtation with him, you mean? No, I never would when he is being so nice and helpful.”

“Why, you sound as though you run around only with gentlemen you dislike!”

Francesca laughed this absurd idea away, but when she was alone later, she remembered it and wondered. It was true, her requirements for flirts were two: first, that they were manageable, for she did not intend to let herself be taken advantage of. The other was that she knew in advance she could never truly care for them. If they had a touch of David’s glib insincerity, so much the better. She could punish him through them. Was that what she had been doing?

She soon forgot Mr. Irwin. He was nothing like David. It was Lord Devane who she thought of longer. Yes, there was certainly something of David in that gentleman’s easy advances, but he failed her other criterion. He was not a safe man to trifle with. She had not heard from him since he learned she was a fine lady, however, and she considered that the end of the matter.

Her real concern was the diamond necklace, and that was what brought the worried frown to her brow. Lord Maundley had sent a curt note. “You were the last person seen to have the diamonds. I consider them your responsibility. If they are not found, then I will expect restitution to be made.”
It was as good as a threat. He obviously thought she had them.

Lunch was a desultory meal. Neither Mrs. Denver nor Francesca ate much. “I hope Mr. Irwin learns something from that Rita woman,”
Francesca said.

“He couldn’t ask her on their first meeting. It will take a few outings to soften her up,”
Mrs. Denver replied.

“I wonder how soon Maundley will act.”

“That is all a bluff. What can he do, when all is said and done?”

“Hire a lawyer to harass me, I suppose.”

“You must tell the lawyer what happened to the necklace.”

“He would be sure to tell Maundley. I do dislike to cause them anxiety, especially Lady Maundley. She was so fond of David. It would break her heart.”

“Better her heart than your reputation.”

Francesca put her face in her hands and emitted a strangled moan. “As if David was not thorn enough in my side when he was alive, now he puts me through this hell.”
She rose from the table and went upstairs.

Mrs. Denver suspected she was having a good cry, and left her alone. When Francesca came down, there was no sign of tears. She was smiling wanly, and spoke hopefully of Mr. Irwin’s learning something to help them. When that gentleman called, she was looking very pretty in her new yellow straw bonnet and light pelisse. “Any luck with Rita Morrow, Mr. Irwin?”
she asked before leaving, for Mrs. Denver would not want to be kept in the dark on this point till after the drive.

He shook his head. “Nothing firm, I fear.”

They drove to Hyde Park, oblivious to the blue skies, the stately parade of trees, and the soft breezes of spring. Mr. Irwin tried to assuage her fears by speaking hopefully of other schemes to assist her. He was planning to tour the jewelry shops in town, inquiring for the necklace. “No jeweler would buy it, but that is not to say they have not been offered it. If they have, perhaps I can get a lead on who offered it for sale.”

“Would they not have notified Lord Maundley if they recognized it as a family heirloom?”
she asked.

“They ought to have, of course, but if the hopeful seller was a good customer, they might have desisted.”

“Then they will not likely tell
you,
will they, Mr. Irwin?”

This sort of common sense had no place on a lady’s tongue, in Mr. Irwin’s opinion. “There are ways of rattling their chains,”
he said curtly.

She was impressed with his surly manner as she took it for a taste of how he would deal with unscrupulous jewelry salesmen. “You mean—threats?”
she asked, her eyes brimming with admiration.

This hadn’t occurred to him, but he seized the idea as his own and nodded bravely. “I shall also keep my eyes open on any occasion when I am likely to run into members of the muslin company. Not that I would meet them by choice, but they are seen about everywhere nowadays.”
His frown suggested he was every bit as much against this deterioration of society as even Mr. Caine could wish.

“I doubt the woman would wear it in public.”

“A year has passed, and no alarm has been raised. She may be gaining confidence that she’s pulled it off. It’s worth a thought. Tonight at Covent Garden, for instance, the cream of the muslin company will attend the opening of Kemble’s
Bluebeard.
It is to be a great lavish thing, with elephants and sixteen horses. You will be attending, of course?”

“No,”
Francesca said listlessly. “Till this business is settled, I haven’t the heart for it.”

He decided the lady needed cheering, and began to rally her spirits at once. “What, give in to a thieving lightskirt? Let a female like that drive you into hiding? Bosh. You shall come to Covent Garden with me this evening. We shall ignore the stage and train our glasses on every neck that sparkles. Come along, do, Lady Camden.”

“I’m not sure I am up to it.”

“Why, you will give Maundley the notion you take his threat seriously. He whiddles beef and you brush. It looks like capitulation on your part if you withdraw from the fray. He’ll think you’re guilty. Withdrawal will certainly be taken as a sign of weakness at least. You must let him see you don’t give a tinker’s curse for his ranting.”

“I wouldn’t want him to think I am afraid,”
she said thoughtfully.

“Excellent, then I shall take you to Covent Garden this evening. We’ll escape that croaker of a Caine if we can. We shall have a merry old time, I promise you, and a tidy dinner later at the Clarendon, with a few select friends.”

“Perhaps I should go.”
She agreed with very little enthusiasm for the project.

As Mr. Irwin’s chaise left the park, it passed a dashing black carriage with a lozenge on the door. It was the spanking team of bays that drew Mr. Irwin’s attention, but it was the gentleman who nodded from the window who made Francesca’s breath catch in her throat. It was Lord Devane, and he had a beautiful woman with him. He nodded with cool politeness as they passed.