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Authors: Kate Harper

Tags: #romance, #suspense, #murder, #mystery, #regency

Lord Scoundrel Dies (21 page)

BOOK: Lord Scoundrel Dies
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‘You were both very impressive but somebody
is going to get that necklace,’ Mr. Lampforth announced with some
excitement.

Immediately, Harry and his lordship turned
to stand beside him. Sure enough, a tall gentleman was standing
before the urn, looking at it intently. He turned and glanced
around him and there was something furtive about that look.
Instinctively, all three watchers drew back a little but he did not
think to look up.

‘That cannot be your gentleman, surely,’ his
lordship murmured. ‘For I’d swear that is Fielding.’

‘Robert Fielding?’ Mr. Lampforth said in
surprise.

‘Yes. Don’t you think?’

Both men leaned forward to look at the
figure below. It was difficult to see his face clearly thanks to
the angle they were on and the fact that he was wearing a hat. He
reached up to find the small bundle, then tucked it into his
pocket. Turning, he paused for a moment to look around again and
this time he did tilt his head up, just enough for them to take
note of his features. Harry caught a glimpse of a mild expression
on a nondescript face with a long nose and a rather weak mouth and
chin. Satisfied that he had not been observed, he set off, walking
quickly.

‘That’s Fielding, right enough,’ Mr.
Lampforth agreed.

‘You know him, then?’ Harry said doubtfully.
She had not known what she was expecting and felt a certain sense
of letdown.

‘Oh yes,’ Mr. Lampforth sound a little
puzzled. ‘Nice enough fellow. A bit wishy-washy but no harm in
him.’

‘Except that he hired a villain to threaten
you,’ Lord Talisker reminded him dryly. ‘I cannot understand why he
would need to go to such lengths to get Mrs. Fielding’s jewelry
back. He went to a great deal of trouble to retrieve it.’

‘Heard a rumor that he’s involved with an
opera singer. Perhaps the necklace belongs to her? Showy piece, I
seem to recall.’

‘The necklace or the opera singer?’ Talisker
demanded.

‘Both.’

‘The necklace was certainly eye-catching.
Sapphires, of course and not as fine as the Astley diamonds but
very pretty and it did possess a very large center stone,’ Harry
agreed. ‘So somehow, Lord Sutton got his hands on this opera
singer’s necklace and her paramour set about getting it back for
her? Is that right?’

‘Which opera singer?’ his lordship demanded
as they left the much-discussed table of irksome Roman ceramics
behind and made for the stairs. Seeing they were moving, Hyacinth
came to her feet and trotted along behind.

‘That Italian – Lucrezia Capaldi, isn’t
it?’

‘I’m impressed,’ his lordship murmured. ‘A
patron of the arts. You have unexpected depths Lampforth.’

‘I don’t listen to the stuff,’ Mr. Lampforth
sounded scandalized by the very idea. ‘Buster Fulton told me. He
knows it for a fact because he was bankrolling her until Fielding
came along. Tossed him over because Fielding is positively swimming
in lard and could keep her in the style etcetera, etcetera. You
know the way it goes.’

Harry didn’t, although Lord
Talisker probably did, being a gentleman who knew the ways of the
world rather better than she could hope to. All of this was well
out of her area of expertise, although she had heard low voiced
conversations about females that were not at all the thing.
Mistresses and the like, a common occurrence in London when
marriage did not necessarily mean fidelity for either the
husband
or
the
wife. An opera singer sounded quite exotic.

‘Do you think this Mr. Fielding hired
somebody to kill Lord Sutton?’ she inquired thoughtfully.

‘Not with a candlestick,’ his lordship
objected.

‘Yes, but think of that rose. A flamboyant
opera singer would be sure to have roses,’ Harry pointed out.

‘Are you thinking the
Capaldi did it? That’s a little far fetched,’ Mr. Lampforth said
doubtfully. ‘Can’t imagine her doing the deed. And if I
did
imagine it, it would
have been with a dagger and she would have probably stood in the
middle of the deuced room carrying on about it in that
ear-splitting voice of hers.’

‘Now there’s a picture,’ Talisker said
appreciatively.

‘A jolly unpleasant one,’ Mr. Lampforth
agreed. ‘What are we going to do now?’

‘I suppose I’d better go home,’ Harry
sighed. ‘I have had more than enough culture for one day and my
aunt will be wondering where I am.’

‘I’m sure you can come up with something
creative,’ Talisker said blandly.

‘I’ve no doubt,’ she agreed, giving him a
limpid look.

‘I said that I would try
and identify more of Sutton’s trophies. I would suggest sooner
would be better than later. We need to finish this business. If
that little episode was any indication, the
ton
are behaving with an even greater
degree of idiocy than usual. It would not do for anybody to become
desperate.’

‘No,’ Mr. Lampforth, who had been on the
receiving end of that last piece of desperation, agreed fervently,
‘it dashed well would not.’

She supposed he had a point. Certainly,
people must be wondering what had happened to all of the things
that Lord Sutton had been keeping – his trophies, as Lord Talisker
phrased it – so the sooner they were returned, the sooner things
could settle down again. It would not do to have poor Mr. Lampforth
– Charlie – set upon again.

‘How will we manage it?’ she inquired.
‘Another ride on the heath?’ She tried not to remember how the
mornings had ended. Not when they had settled back into a semblance
of peace again. While she still thought him exasperating, he had
managed to worm his way back into her good graces.

Talisker hesitated. ‘Do you have any
engagements tonight?’

‘We are going to the theatre. We were
supposed to be going last night but your sister-in-law’s invitation
took precedence. I thought you were playing cards at Mr. de
Veers?’

‘A late engagement. His card games can go
all night. Can you bring all the things that you have with
you?’

She eyed him doubtfully. ‘I do not see how
we can be private at the theatre and I think we both agreed that
appearing together again in public would not be the thing at
all.’

‘Why?’ Mr. Lampforth inquired curiously.
‘Why shouldn’t you been seen together?’

‘Miss Honeywood is worried that people will
marry us off,’ his lordship told him blandly. ‘And the concept of
marriage to me makes her dreadfully nervous.’

Surprisingly, Harry found herself flushing a
little at this. It was all very well for him to make fun but he
knew as well as she did the way things worked. ‘It’s true enough,
after all.’

‘Ah.’ Mr. Lampforth shook his head. ‘People
are always trying to marry one off. It’s a deuced nuisance, I
agree.’

‘You have no marital aspirations, Mr.
Lampforth?’ Lord Talisker inquired with some amusement.

The young man winced. ‘Don’t need ‘em.
Everybody else has plenty to go around.’

This produced a laugh from his
companions.

‘I have no objection to the gossip if we
happen to come across each other at the theatre,’ his lordship
continued on. ‘People cannot make a great to do about simple
chance. A casual meeting. They do happen, you know.’

‘I suppose. But you will be subtle about it,
will you not?’ She was not entirely convinced but it was probably
just as acceptable as skulking around, trying to find some place
private to talk. It was only a matter of time before they were seen
and then the gossip would really ignite. The strictures people
placed upon one, the ensuing talk that any meeting with a gentleman
entailed… it made things very difficult.

‘I will be extremely subtle,’ he assured her
gravely.

‘Very well. I believe I can put everything
into the largest of my evening bags. If I keep it out of sight the
size of it will not be commented on.’

‘Very good. Then, as I presume you would not
care to been seen walking with me, I shall see you tonight.’

‘No offense to either of you but I would not
care to be seen walking with any eligible gentleman just at the
moment.’ She gave Charlie a smile. ‘Just in case people begin to
get ideas about us, sir.’

Mr. Lampforth looked horrified by the very
idea, which made her laugh again. He might not intend to be, but
Charles Lampforth was a very comical man. In the normal course of
events they might not have come across each other, as Mr. Lampforth
did not figure large in the social whirl her aunt thrust her into.
But she did think it would have been a pity not to know Charlie. He
was quite the most refreshing young man she had met since coming to
London, not least because of his apparently fixed aversion to the
very reason she was there; matrimony. She looked at Lord
Talisker.

‘Tonight, then. If you think it won’t look
too odd. I suppose you’re right. Everybody goes to the theatre.’ He
nodded and she waved a hand to capture her maid’s attention. ‘Come
along Hyacinth. It is time to go home.’

 

The two men watched Miss Honeywood walk away
in silence for a long moment. Mr. Lampforth cleared his throat.

‘I didn’t think you were a fan of the
theatre, actually.’

‘I’m not. But needs must.’

Lampforth glanced at him. For somebody with
a reputation as a simple sort of fellow, his blue eyes were quite
astute. ‘Surely that will cause just the kind of talk that Miss
Honeywood is eager to avoid?’

‘I daresay we shall both weather it,’ Aubrey
replied easily. They fell into step together.

‘You know, for a man who was so put out by
Miss Honeywood’s decision to take a hand in things, you seem very
eager to participate.’

Aubrey frowned. He had thought the whole
thing entirely too risky from the start. Not for himself, or
Lampforth, for while it had been unfortunate that they had happened
upon the body, they could take care of themselves. But it stuck in
his gut that a young woman should put herself in harm’s way with
such feckless insouciance. For that was the worst of this whole
damnable situation; she didn’t even seem to understand the risks
she was taking.

‘Miss Honeywood has a talent for trouble,’
he said slowly now. ‘I would be loathed that she should fall foul
of some desperate fool intent on discovering what she knows about
the affair. She has been lucky so far but if she intends to return
all of those things, her luck may just run out. Let us not forget,
a man has been murdered.’

‘I agree completely. And I’m more than happy
to help Miss Honeywood in any way I can,’ Lampforth assured him.
‘With our help, I daresay it will all work out all right.’

Aubrey gave the man a searching glance. ‘Do
you… harbor romantic inclinations towards Miss Honeywood?’ he
inquired delicately. It would hardly be surprising if Mr. Lampforth
did. Harriet Honeywood was an appealing young lady with a
singularly refreshing view of the world. It was frequently a
deplorable view, in Aubrey’s opinion, but that did not alter the
fact that there was something innately endearing about her
relentless quest to right what she perceived as a wrong done to
people who, for the great part, should have known better. The
return of stolen jewelry was perfectly understandable but her
desire to return the debts that had been incurred by outright
foolishness was…

He suddenly remembered
Celeste. True, she had appeared to have mended her ways but if she
had not it might well be his sister-in-law that was fretting
herself into a state about her notes of hand being discovered. She
would have come to him, of course, and then
he
would have been pursuing the
missing chits, desperate to stop the world from knowing that his
brother’s wife owed an unsavory man money.

It was odd that he had not thought of it in
quite that way before.

Charles Lampforth was shaking his head. ‘I
don’t harbor inclinations on anything, let alone matrimony. Unless
it is trying to live a life that is as free of inconvenience as I
can possibly make it. That is the stuff that I aspire to. It’s
inconsequential and probably abysmally unambitious but there you
are, I am guilty of a decidedly lackluster attitude.’

‘Oh, I applaud your lack of ambition. I
consider a life free of inconvenience to be a worthy aspiration for
any man,’ Aubrey said gravely. ‘Let us hope we can both be restored
to those lives with all speed. I will not pretend that I am
entirely easy about this business. You were attacked last night –

‘Hardly attacked. More spoken to
severely.’

‘Even so. Your presence was noted on the
night of Sutton’s death.’

‘Yes,’ Lampforth sighed. ‘That has struck me
pretty damn forcefully as well. I cannot believe the number of
people that decided to pay a call on Sutton in the middle of the
night. The man was more popular than a sultan.’

‘Rather
less
popular, I would say. One of
those people did kill him, after all.’

‘Perhaps he said something he shouldn’t
have. An impulsive sort of murder, wouldn’t you say?’

Aubrey glanced at Mr. Lampforth and once
again, thought that he had underestimated the man. ‘You’ve been
thinking about this,’ he said accusingly.

Lampforth shrugged. ‘Why not? It does rather
occupy one’s thoughts, especially when somebody saw me there.’

‘Indeed. I had been wondering if he was
involved with some tryst. Remember the rose?’

‘So you think there might have been a female
present who saw the whole thing and fled? A witness?’

‘It’s possible, although clearly, she has no
intention of coming forward.’

‘Can’t really blame her. Scandal and all
that. She probably holed up in her bedchamber to have a nice, quiet
breakdown. Especially if she saw the killer.’

BOOK: Lord Scoundrel Dies
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