Regency Sting (10 page)

“Mind your tongue, Tobias,” Coyne hissed. “This is the
family
.”

“I don't care if it was the Prince 'isself, sittin' there!” the barber cried. Trembling with agitation, he bowed to Lady Harriet and the others nervously. “I am honored at your interest, ladies and gentlemen, I assure you, but this 'ere ain't no
theater
. I do
not
work before an
audience
!”

“I
beg
your pardon,” Anne said angrily, jumping to her feet and trying with difficulty to ignore the choking sounds of laughter issuing from Jason and Peter, “but I've never heard such an arrogant, insolent—”

“Hush, dear,” Lady Harriet said mildly, “there's no need to take a pet. If the man is indeed the artist that Coyne thinks he is, he is quite right to demand peace while he works. If we make the fellow nervous, he will not do his work well. Jason will not benefit if we insist on remaining. Let's go and leave the barber to his work.”

“Exac'ly so, my lady,” the barber said, giving her a deep, appreciative bow.

“But, Mama—” Anne objected.

“Take a damper, my dear,” Peter cut in. “Let's do as Mama says.”

“Very well,” Anne agreed reluctantly, “but make sure you cut it
à la Grecque
,” she admonished the triumphant little
coiffeur
.

Harriet turned at the doorway. “No, no. The
Brutus
, I think, don't you, Mr … er …?”

“Fenderwinzel. Tobias Fenderwinzel, my lady,” the barber said politely, and, with another bow, he crossed the room, ushered them into the hallway and locked the door behind them.

It was two hours before Jason was seen again. By that time, Anne had become so impatient she was pacing the room like a caged lioness. Peter had long since retired to his study. Lady Harriet had drawn her embroidery frame from the corner and was placidly stitching away at it when Coyne knocked at the door. “Mr. Fenderwinzel,” he announced.

The little
coiffeur
had removed his apron, donned his coat and packed his bag. His mouth was twisted into a slight but decidedly self-satisfied smile. He made a low, formal obeisance and announced importantly, “Lady Hartley, Miss Hartley, I present for your approval, his lordship, the Viscount Mainwaring!”

Every eye turned to the door, but no one was there. The barber clucked, shook his head, muttered a curse under his breath and ran out into the hallway. In a moment he returned, his face red with chagrin. “'E was to follow right be'ind me,” he explained in agitation. “Where 'as 'e gone?”

Harriet blinked. “I'm sure I haven't the slightest idea—”

“Dash it,” Anne muttered, “he doesn't want us to see him! The coward must have run
out
!”

“
Has
he gone out, Coyne?” Harriet inquired.

“I couldn't say, my lady,” Coyne said with a shrug. “I assumed he had followed Mr. Fenderwinzel. I never thought to look.”

“'E didn't go out, Mr. Coyne,” said the second footman, popping in from the hallway where he'd been lurking. “I seen 'im walkin' down the 'all.”

“Did you indeed?” said the butler coldly. “And what are you doing hanging about out there in the hallway, pray?”

The footman colored. “Well, I … I was just wantin' to take a peek at 'is noddle.”

“Well, you can take yourself downstairs,
right quick
! I'll have a word with you later,” Coyne muttered sternly.

Anne expelled a breath in disgust. “In the meantime, may I trouble you
all
to go and
look
for him?”

“Look for whom?” inquired Jason from the doorway. His voice was provokingly innocent, and so was his expression as he lounged against the door-jamb polishing a large apple on his shirtsleeve. Anne was about to deliver the sharp set-down which had leaped to her tongue at the sound of his voice, when her eyes took note of his appearance. She gasped in pleasure. The gasp was echoed by everyone else in the room but the barber. For Jason had truly been transformed.

Even in his ramshackle American clothing, Jason had taken on the look of a veritable Corinthian. Mr. Fenderwinzel had cut his hair short at the sides and curled it very slightly toward the face. The top was cut somewhat longer, and the barber had brushed it into an attractively careless disarray. The effect was both elegant and casual. “Oh, Mr. Fenderwinzel,” Anne sighed in awe, “you really
are
an artist!”

“Jason,” Harriet declared beaming, “you're
beautiful
!”

“Beautiful, eh?” Jason shook his head in amazement, took a bite of his apple and chewed reflectively. “And to think that only this mornin' I was a homely gawk,” he marveled. “Ain't it wonderful what a bit of a haircut can do?”

“A
bit
of a 'aircut?” came an agonized cry from the barber. “A
bit
of a 'aircut?” With agitated little steps, he crossed the room to confront the Viscount. “A Fenderwinzel
coiffure
can never be called a bit of a 'aircut,” he declared pugnaciously, “as you'll learn when I send my bill!”

The sight was ludicrous—the little barber's proudly elevated nose barely reached the level of the top button of Jason's waistcoat. Anne choked with suppressed laughter, and even Lady Harriet was forced to smile. Jason, however, looked sincerely apologetic. “I beg your pardon, Mr. Fenderwinzel. I sure didn't mean to disparage your work. Any man who can make a lady call me ‘beautiful' is more than an artist—he is a
magician
. I'll be glad to pay whatever you think is right.”

“Thank you, my lord,” the little barber said, mollified. “It was an honor to be of service.” With a bow to the Viscount and another to the ladies, he went to the door. “Whenever you 'ave need of my services again, my lord, I 'ope you'll not 'esitate to call on me.”

Fortunately, Coyne closed the heavy doors behind him so quickly that, when Jason and the ladies gave way to their laughter, Mr. Fenderwinzel didn't hear it.

The haircut now successfully completed, Anne turned her attention to the problem of the Viscount's clothing. After much thought, she decided to send Jason to Nugee, instructing his lordship to put himself completely into the tailor's hands. He was to order a complete array of morning and evening coats, breeches, trousers, waistcoats, shirts, neckcloths and other linen—everything. He was further enjoined to speak to no one but the tailors, and the coachman was ordered to return his lordship to Curzon Street directly at the conclusion of the business with the tailors.

An hour later, the coach returned, but Jason did not emerge. The puzzled coachman reported to Coyne, who reported to Miss Hartley, that his lordship had quietly left Nugee's establishment when no one was looking and had not been seen since. After waiting through four interminable hours for Jason to make an appearance, Anne heard a knock at the door. Believing that Jason had at last arrived, she followed Coyne to the door, ready to pounce on the fellow in fury. But standing in the doorway was Lord Claybridge.

“
Arthur
,” Anne cried, “what are you—?” Then, with a glance at the butler, she said in a much more restrained tone, “Do come in,” and she dismissed Coyne with a wave of her hand.

“I can only stay a moment,” Arthur whispered hurriedly. “I don't want Lady Harriet to know I'm here. I merely stopped by to find out how you've been keeping. I haven't had a glimpse of you since that morning at the Laverstokes'.”

“I know. I'm most dreadfully sorry, but I've not had a moment's peace since Lord Mainwaring arrived. The fellow is a dreadful here-and-thereian. Why, at this very
moment
—”

“Do you mind if we don't waste time speaking of him? I've been on tenterhooks since last I saw you. Anne, my dear, have you come to a decision about … about what I asked you?”

“What you asked—? Oh, that. Yes, I think I have news that will please you, Arthur, but I haven't time to tell you about it now. Standing here whispering in the hall is not the way to discuss matters as important as this. Meet me at Cherry's house next Saturday morning, and I'll tell you the whole.”

“Next Saturday? Must we wait so
long
?” Arthur asked, dismayed.

Hearing a step in the upstairs hall, Anne urged him to the door. “It's the soonest I can arrange. Please go now, Arthur. And don't worry. Everything will be fine, I promise you.”

She pushed him out the door and closed it after him in the nick of time, for Lady Harriet appeared at the top of the stairs. “Has someone called?” she asked.

“No one of importance,” Anne answered evasively. “I was hoping it was your nephew. He's not yet returned. What
are
we to do?”

“Do?” Lady Harriet murmured in an untroubled way. “I don't see that there
is
anything we can do.”

“Mama, you cannot have
heard
me. Mr. Hughes has
disappeared
! He has not been seen since ten this morning. Aren't you at all
concerned
?”

“If my nephew was able to make his way across the Atlantic Ocean and to find his way here without any help from you or me, I'm convinced that he cannot need it now. Jason is a very resourceful young man. I'm not in the least concerned about him.”

“He may be resourceful, but he's the most irritating and unreliable make-bait it has ever been my misfortune to encounter! Where can he have gone? I told him quite clearly to stop at Nugee's and nowhere else! What can he be doing for so many hours? He knows no one in London, he has neither horse nor carriage, and there's not a shilling in his pockets, so far as I know. In these circumstances, I cannot
imagine
what he can be doing, unless he's been set upon by thieves or cutthroats, in which case, if anyone were to ask me
my
opinion, he has met a fate he very richly deserves.”

“Thieves and cutthroats?” Lady Harriet repeated with a slight quaver. “Oh, dear, you are making me nervous, and you
know
how damaging that can be to one's heart. I must remain calm.” She took three deep, soothing breaths. “Anne, my love, you must learn not to indulge in fits of temper or ill-humors. I know you're angry with Jason only because you've worked yourself up this way. But you needn't be alarmed. Jason can take care of himself. When he returns, he will no doubt have a perfectly rational explanation for his absence.”

With that small comfort, Anne had to be content. After another hour, unable to delay dinner any longer without causing untoward disturbance in the kitchen, the ladies went upstairs to dress for dinner. Jason returned home not five minutes after the ladies had closed their doors behind them. He came into the house and greeted Coyne as if he had not a care in the world, calmly sauntered up to his room and began to change for dinner. Coyne, however, knew how disturbed Miss Anne had been over his disappearance, so he tapped at her door and whispered to her that his lordship had returned.

“Oh, he has, has he?” she declared with a militant sparkle in her eye. “Thank you, Coyne, for informing me.” And she brushed by him and marched down the hall in the direction of his lordship's bedroom. The angry swing of her stride told Coyne better than words that the forthcoming confrontation boded no good for the unfortunate Viscount.

Jason, in his shirtsleeves, opened the door in answer to Anne's knock. He had already removed his neckcloth and had almost completely unbuttoned his shirt. But he showed no embarrassment at his state of undress. He merely smiled at her and stepped aside for her to enter. Too angry to take notice of the inappropriateness of his appearance, she glared at him and stalked past him into the room. As soon as he had closed the door, she rounded on him. “What do you
mean
by disappearing all afternoon without a word? Don't you remember my instructions? I told you to return immediately from Nugee's!”

“Did you now?” he asked innocently. “Fancy my forgettin'!”

“Is that all you have to say? Where have you been?”

“Orderin' my clothes, like you asked.”

‘Don't think you can flummery me, my lord! The coachman told me you slipped out of Nugee's before you'd ordered anything.”

“That's true, but I ordered the things elsewhere,” he explained.

“
Elsewhere
?” She glared at him with renewed fury. “What is the point of my trying to advise you, if you will not
listen
to me? Nugee's coats are the very height of fashion.”

“Maybe, but they wouldn't have suited me.”

“Oh, wouldn't they?” she asked acidly. “I thought
I
was to be the judge of that.”

“Even
you
wouldn't have approved of what they were plannin' for me. A mornin' coat with shoulders padded up to here—as if a great oaf like me needs padded shoulders!—and wide lapels made of
velvet
—”

“Velvet lapels are very much the thing,” she informed him, “although I'll admit that I would not have approved the padded shoulders either.”

“Especially in—what did he say the color would be?—oh, yes, robin's-egg blue.”

The image that flashed into her mind of Jason in a robin's-egg-blue coat was indeed ludicrous. “I see. Well, what did you do about it?”

“I just walked out. Found a tailor not far away and ordered everything, just as you instructed.”

She put her hand to her forehead in a gesture of hopelessness. “Oh, that's just
fine
! We shall be presented with armloads of apparel that will be good for nothing but depositing in, the poor-box. One cannot go to just
any
tailor, you know. There are fewer than half-a-dozen in all of London who can be relied upon to suit a gentleman.”

“Oh?” Jason murmured meekly. “Do you really think the clothes will not be satisfactory? Mr. Weston assured me—”