The Duke's Downfall (14 page)

And what of Betsy? Charles’s pulse quickened with dread at the thought. What if she didn’t find Boru by then? What if she returned to the scene of his disappearance at the zenith of the fashionable hour in her torn and muddied pelisse, her crushed poke bonnet flapping along behind her?

“Quickly, halfling. What’s the hour?”

Teddy fished his watch from his waistcoat and sprang it open. Pieces of the shattered face tinkled out onto his palm, along with the broken hour hand. “At whatever moment I fell upon your birthday gift, it was half-past something.”

“Bloody marvelous.” Charles pushed himself off the  ground, wobbling as a wave of vertigo rolled over him.

“Should you be standing?” Teddy sprang to his feet and tucked a shoulder beneath his. “You look a bit rum.”

“Kind of you to notice.” Charles arched a wry brow. “Kinder still for you to say so.”

“Your eyes look—odd.” Teddy peered at him intently. “Are you quite yourself, Chas?”

“No, thank God.” Charles drew and exhaled a deep breath. Standing wasn’t so bad, now that he’d managed it. “I’m a new man.”

“How is that possible?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Charles replied, slowly, as he considered the matter. “But I’m not the man Boru knocked unconscious.”

Teddy’s eyebrows drew together worriedly. “Who are you, then?”

Bonnie Prince Charlie, Charles wanted to reply, for he felt suddenly euphoric. His head still pounded unmercifully, but the vertigo had given way to a giddy sense of well-being. Yet Teddy looked so grave he dared not be flippant.

“Don’t worry, halfling,” he assured him. “I’ve not taken leave of my senses. I’ve merely rediscovered them."

“I was not aware you’d lost them.”

“Neither was I, but it seems perfectly clear to me now that I must have somewhere along the way.”

Teddy’s brows leapt in alarm. “I think you should sit down again, Chas.”

“Once I’ve had a word with Lady Clymore.” He nodded at the countess, now seated in the yellow phaeton and gesturing urgently in his direction. “While I’m at it, I want you to gather up Lady Betsy’s reticule, the dagger, snuffbox, and anything else of hers you can find among the leaves.” He lifted his arm from Teddy’s shoulders and planted a finger in his neckcloth. “Discreetly, halfling. I want a thorough look at her rackety collection before I return it.”

Young Lord Theodore’s eyes lit with interest. “As Your Grace wishes.”

As he wheeled back to the oak tree, Charles drew a steadying breath and struck off across the greensward. Walking was more of a challenge than standing, but he managed the distance, slowly and carefully, the ringing in his ears subsiding as he drew near enough to the phaeton for the countess’s features to coalesce into one face.

“My apologies, Lady Clymore.” Firmly but surreptitiously, Charles grasped the front wheel and made her a small bow. “Had I any idea Teddy would loan Lady Elizabeth his curricle, I would have forbade it.”

“Oh, bother that,” the dowager said, with a sniff. “Prinny himself could not have gainsaid Betsy. She’ll be safe enough with George until Silas and I join the hunt.”

“May I offer my services, ma’am? If we split three ways surely the hound can be run to ground in short order.”

Lady Clymore notched a brow at him. “No offense, Braxton, but you seem hardly able to stand.”

“I’m in no worse shape than you, my lady. I can sit as well in my carriage as you can in yours.”

 Lady Clymore inclined her chin. “It is kind of you, then.”

Hardly that, Charles thought, with another twinge of guilt. It was the least he could do.

“I trust you will be well enough to stand up with me tomorrow evening at the Countess Featherston’s ball.”

If Lady Clymore felt any surprise at being asked to leave the ranks of the dowagers her face did not show it. Rather, she eyed Charles sharply. “Without a doubt I shall be. But what of you?”

“I shall be right as rain and pleased to lead you out,” Charles drawled, with a shrug he hoped the countess would take for indifference. “And Lady Elizabeth, of course, if she has room on her card.”

“Of course.” Lady Clymore’s gaze narrowed. “And Teddy? Will he be attending?”

“I should think.”

“Then it is time you and I had a coze, Braxton.”

“At your convenience, my lady.” Grasping the wheel again for balance, Charles made her another bow. “On the morrow?”

“If it is at all convenient, I would prefer this evening. Shall we say eight of the clock?”

It was a summons, despite the courteous phrasing, and clearly to do with Teddy. Not surprising, since the little scamp was always up to something.

“As my lady wishes,” Charles said, nodding his acceptance. “May I suggest that you and your coachman concentrate your efforts on locating Lady Betsy. Fletcher—” Charles paused to signal his coachman—”and Teddy and I will scour every inch of the park. I further suggest we meet here in an hour’s time to widen the search if necessary.”

“Sensible. Let us make it so.”

The coachmen conferred for a moment, then Silas climbed up on his seat and clucked to his team. Once the phaeton had bowled away in a vivid sweep of leaves, Teddy came pelting up with Betsy’s reticule clanking over his arm.

“Damned thing’s heavy,” he complained. “Weighs near half a stone, I’ll wager.”

Charles took it from him, incredulity widening his eyes. “What the deuce has she got in here?”

“Best look for yourself. Are we off to find Boru?”

“We are,” Charles said, turning toward Fletcher and directing him to make a slow circuit of the park.

Once he and Teddy had taken seats facing each other and the carriage was underway, Charles upended the reticule on the deep blue velvet squabs.

“Bloody hell,” he muttered, lifting Edward Keaton’s pistol gingerly in two fingers.

“It’s been disabled,” Teddy told him, shifting his attention to the window.

“Since she can’t shoot anyone with it, then she must carry the pistol, too, for effect.” Charles laid it aside and picked up a leather-bound book. Without his spectacles, and with his vision still somewhat blurred, he had to lift it nearly to his nose to read the title stamped in Latin and gilt letters.

“Bloody damned hell!” he exclaimed, as the words swam into focus, and hastily stuffed the book beneath the coat he’d shed earlier and left on the squabs.

“Found friend Ovid, eh?” Teddy gave him a roguish grin. “Lady Betsy refers to him as her last resort.”

Against would-be seducers, no doubt, Charles thought, his head pounding viciously at the memory of the thick tome colliding with his skull. “It could be worse,” he said ruefully. “She could be able to read it.”

Teddy leaned forward and bent his elbows on his knees. “Oh, but she can.”

The duke’s right hand froze halfway to his thudding temple. “What?”

“Bit of a bluestocking is our Lady Betsy,” Teddy informed him, with a wicked wag of his brows.

“Hides it well, doesn’t she?” Charles swiped his hand over his mouth to hide the grin quivering there at the irony of being smashed over the head with Ovid.

For Teddy’s sake he strove to appear as outraged, as indignant, as he would have just a day—nay, just an hour ago—but simply could not manage it.

“What a morning for revelations,” he said, and burst into laughter.

Teddy cocked his head curiously. “You aren’t furious?”

“Heavens, no.” Charles knuckled mirthful tears from his eyes. ‘I’m sure Lady Clymore would be if she knew, but I’ve no intention of telling her.”

To keep from falling off it, Teddy sat back on the banquette. “You don’t?”

“I do intend to tell Betsy.” He plucked Ovid out from under his coat and arched a brow. “This isn’t at all the thing for a duchess to lug about in her reticule.”

For a moment, Teddy simply stared at him, his mouth falling slowly open. Then he gave a cock-a-whoop shout and leapt across the carriage. He intended to clap Charles on the back, but his sudden lurch rocked the springs and pitched him instead onto his brother’s lap.

“Steady, halfling,” Charles said, with a laugh, catching him in his arms.

“You dull old stick!” Teddy crowed, clinging to his neck. “You’ve made me the happiest of fellows!”

“I believe I’m supposed to say that.” Charles grinned and dumped his brother onto the banquette beside him. “But not until I’ve asked and Lady Elizabeth accepts.”

“You’ve not gone down on your knee?”

“I intend to speak to Lady Clymore—and Betsy— this evening.”

"Oh, I see.” Heaving a deflated sigh, Teddy scooted across the squabs to the window. “In that case, I wouldn’t pin my hopes on it, if I were you.

“Why not?” Charles asked suspiciously.

“Because Betsy has taken you in complete disgust,” Teddy said, sliding a cool glance over his shoulder. “And since you lured her into Lady Pinchon’s garden last evening I shouldn’t wonder.”

“I did not lure her anywhere,” Charles denied vehemently. “I said pardon, which she mistook for garden.”

“There’s nothing wrong with Betsy’s hearing. It’s Lady Pinchon who’s deaf.” Teddy tsked. “Really, Chas. How low.”

“She had lamb’s wool stuffed in her ears,” Charles retorted. “Couldn’t hear a damn thing I said!”

“Then how did she end up with your coat?”

“I loaned it to her when I tore her gown.”

“Charles!” Teddy gasped, falling back into the corner of the banquette with a hand pressed to his cravat.

“I stepped on her hem,” Charles snapped, a muscle leaping in his jaw. “In the foyer, mind you, not the garden.”

“Nonetheless,” Teddy said stiffly, as he swung back to the window, “I’m sure that’s the reason Betsy said she’d clout you with her reticule if you came near her again.”

“She did that,” Charles muttered ruefully, “but not with her reticule.”

“She stuck to it, too, even when I pointed out the advantages to leading Julian Dameron to believe she was on the verge of receiving an offer from you.

“What do you mean, you led him?”

“I had to do something,” Teddy responded over his shoulder, “for he was there when I called this morning in Berkeley Square, ensconced in the Blue Saloon as smug as a cat in cream.”

“Why drag me into it?” Charles demanded angrily. “Why not tell him you and Betsy plan to elope?”

“Because,” he replied, slowly and patiently, as if addressing the village slowtop, “that was nothing but a hum.”

“No more a hum than the absolute clanker that I am about to offer for the silly chit!”

“But you are, Chas. You just said so. Not that she’ll have you,” Teddy added, with a shrug. “Especially if you keep calling her a silly chit.”

“Fletcher!” Charles roared, grasping the strap and swinging out the window to keep himself from committing fratricide. “Stop here!” he commanded, kicking the door open before the carriage had come to a complete stop. “We’d best go afoot, else we’ll never find the wretched beast.”

“Yes, Chas,” Teddy murmured dutifully, smothering a slyly satisfied smile as he scrambled out of the carriage behind him.

As he jumped to the ground, Charles grabbed a fistful of his collar. “Come along, little sapskull,” he growled, striding purposefully toward the Grosvenor Gate.

“Why’ve you flown into the boughs now?” Teddy demanded, stumbling along beside him as best he could.

“You dare ask why?” Charles fumed as he stalked across the greensward with Teddy in tow. “You admit your plan to elope was nothing but a banger, then you claim you had no choice but to mislead Dameron into thinking I intend to offer for Betsy Keaton!” He came to an abrupt halt and yanked his brother around to face him. “Are you sure you put the idea of misleading him into Betsy’s head, or was it already there?”

“Oh, I say—”

“Answer me.” Charles twisted his hand around Teddy’s neckcloth and pulled him up on his toes. “The truth, or I’ll have your guts for garters.”

“Well, I—” He broke off as he caught a glimpse over Charles’s shoulder of the urchin boy and his little brown dog peeking out of a nearby bank of shrubbery.

“Ted-dy,” Charles growled, twisting another length of his cravat around his hand.

“In the bushes,” he croaked, hardly able to breathe.

“Boru?” Charles let go and spun sharply on his heel.

“No.” Teddy breathed deeply and rubbed his throat. “The urchin boy who helped us find him.”

“Maybe he’s seen the silly beast.” Charles started eagerly forward, but Teddy clamped a hand on his elbow.

“Slowly and quietly,” he whispered. “He’s skittish and quick off the mark.”

Nodding, Charles tucked one hand in his waistcoat pocket, and side by side, they sauntered casually toward the clump of bushes. When the boy bolted, Teddy snatched the string tied to his dog’s collar, and Charles caught his ear. Not hard enough to hurt him, just hard enough to hold him.

“Half a crown for a moment of your time, young fellow.”

“Bugger off,” the boy spat, twisting his head around as best he could to glare at Charles.

“We won’t hurt you,” Teddy said, stepping forward so the boy could see him. “Remember me? Lady Betsy and I saved you from the man who beat you with his cane. Her dog has gone missing again. Have you seen him?”

The boy craned his neck again to peer up at Charles. “I seen a jarvey take ‘im up.”

Letting go of his ear, Charles took his coin purse from his waistcoat pocket, fished out a half crown, and dropped it in the boy’s filthy palm. “Very well, then. You may go.”

The boy snatched the dog’s string from Teddy, turned to run, but hesitated. “Ye’ll tell ‘er Ladyship?”

“You have my word,” the duke assured him solemnly.

“Right then, guv.”

Charles watched the boy wrap the string around his wrist and dash away with the little dog limping beside him, then turned toward Teddy with a curiously cocked eyebrow. “What the devil is a jarvey?”

“A hackney driver,” Teddy replied, looking as puzzled as Charles.

Chapter Fourteen

“A hackney driver?” Charles repeated incredulously. “Are you quite sure?”

“‘Course I am,” Teddy replied archly. “I’ve not been rusticating this age. The question is what the devil does a jarvey want with Boru?”

“Ransom, I’ll wager,” Charles replied darkly, as they started back the way they’d come. “Boru is a hound of obvious breeding. No manners,” he added dryly, “but breeding.”