The Gilded Scarab (14 page)

And what in tarnation did he mean by that? Was he hinting Peter would be recalled home? Well that would be a piece of luck.

For the Chinese.

I murmured something indicative of my understanding that even if the House wanted to help and even if hell had frozen over and I wanted a House post, it wasn’t going to happen. The Lancaster luck had held once again. Actually, I may just have said, “Mmmmph,” again. It was a very useful expression.

“So, in the circumstances, I wish you well in your search for suitable employment. For your father’s sake, I’ll extend House facilities to you at the usual rates. Should you need it, talk to my Heir, John. I’ll tell him you qualify and have my approval.”

Well! That was unexpected. That was damned unexpected. “Thank you, sir. That’s very kind of you.”

“Yes. It is.” There was a slight pause while the Stravaigor regarded me through the curling smoke of my cigar. “I have a personal matter to raise with you as well.”

And that really, really did not bode well.

“Oh?”

“Yes. I wondered if you intended to do anything with your mother’s jewels?”

What the hell?

“Her jewels? I was left some in her will, I know. I’ve never seen them.”

“So they have no sentimental value for you?”

I hunched one shoulder. “None, sir. How could they? My mother died when I was still in leading strings and petticoats. I have no memory of her at all. As for the jewels, well, I don’t even know what there is. My father always said they were mine, but I never thought to worry him about them when he was alive, and I was serving abroad, you’ll remember, when he died. I had to return to duty a few days after the funeral, so there was no opportunity to see about the things then, and apart from Peter assuring me the jewel box had my name upon it, I’ve never given it another thought. I know the lawyers took possession of the jewels and placed them in the bank, but that’s all I know.”

“Actually they’re stored at Garrard’s.”

“Ah.” I nodded. If the Stravaigor knew that, then he had to have a real interest there. Something devilish deep, I’d be bound. I tried for an expression of polite enquiry.

“Your mother owned several good pieces. In particular, she had a ruby
grande parure
of the true pigeon-blood red that I would very much like to buy. My eldest daughter marries in June when her husband-to-be is out of mourning for a brother, and I would like to gift it to her. Bring the jewels into the main family, as it were. There were some fine sapphires, too, as I remember. If you have no interest in the jewels, Rafe, then have Garrard value them for you and I will pay the valuation price for the parure. In fact, send me the full valuation for everything and I may buy more. Those sapphires would look well on my second girl.” The smile I got was thin. “I expect if you’re starting a new career, you’d prefer the capital.”

“Yes.” I frowned. “Yes. I would.”

“Well, consider it, at least. And let me know what you decide. As I say, the parure will be perfect for Emily’s wedding gift, and I don’t suppose the jewels are of much use to you.”

“Not sapphires, anyway. Not my color, sir. Emeralds now….”

The Stravaigor snorted, picked up a document from his desk, and bent his head to read it. The interview was over. “Well, let me have a figure for them. My wife and daughters will be pleased to welcome you in the drawing room, Rafe. I believe the festivities have already started.”

Dismissed, I stood up and bowed. “The compliments of the season to you, sir.”

The old man glanced up. The smile I got in return was enough to ruin my appetite for the entire festive season. “And to you, Rafe Lancaster. And to you.”

“H
OW
WAS
it?” asked Mr. Pearse on Boxing Day morning. He hurriedly turned over some official looking papers to put them printed side down and greeted me with a cup of the latest blend.

“The food, the ladies, or the Stravaigor?”

“Perhaps we will take them in that order,” suggested Mr. Pearse, grinning. He gathered up his papers and pushed them out of sight under the counter. They looked like they might be pages from a ledger.

Why was he so furtive? Still, it was none of my business, and I did the gentlemanly thing and pretended not to notice.

“The food was wonderful. Really, I haven’t eaten anything as sumptuous in years. I ate too much, and the brandy was the nectar of the gods. I had too much of that too. The ladies… well, I think I disappointed the ladies. Madame Stravaigor was gracious enough, but her two daughters!” I rolled my eyes. “The eldest one could talk of nothing but hunting, to the point where I thought she’d be better named Diana, not Emily. She talked horses for twenty minutes without once stopping to draw breath. Then she talked hounds. She talked of the runs she’d had with the Quorn, and I tell you she probably knew each and every fox the Quorn’s taken in the last three years and is on first name terms with every hound. I learned more about hound parasites and their treatment than I’m strictly comfortable with. She spent an hour trying to get me to tell her how much big game I’d slaughtered in Africa. She had no grasp of geography, because she couldn’t understand why I wasn’t spending every weekend in Nairobi, nor did she ever realize I was out there fighting a war and not stalking lion across the veldt. She was terribly disappointed when I had to admit my luggage wasn’t stuffed with pelts and antelope heads.”

“Didn’t I see the announcement of her betrothal before Christmas? Marrying the Plumassier’s Heir, I believe.”

“The Stravaigor is consolidating his alliances.”

“Odd he’s looking outside the Cartomancer’s sphere for it, though. The Plumassier’s allied to Gallowglass. Mind you, there’s always been more flexibility among the minor Houses when it comes to arranging marriages, and everyone keeps on the Gallowglass’s good side. Comes from him holding the purse strings.”

I chuckled, despite myself. “I’ve met the fiancé. He came for coffee later in the evening. To say he’s a weedy little bookworm would be a masterly understatement, and to see him beside that great strapping huntress…. I had to keep retiring to the smoking room where I could have my laugh out in peace. You can tell who’ll be riding astride in that marriage!”

Mr. Pearse laughed out loud.

I laughed with him, then sobered. “I’ll probably have to go to the wedding, and even if I don’t, I suppose I’ll have to find them a present. There’ll be no getting out of that.”

“No. They’ll keep a tally of who gave what. You’re back in the House’s embrace now, Captain. It will be expensive.”

“Perhaps I can find them something useful. A nutmeg grater or a steam knife sharpener.”

“You’d have to encrust your nutmeg grater with diamonds. What about the other daughter?”

“Not a huntress of foxes, that one, but any well-dressed gentleman had better look to his defenses. I have never before been flirted with so ruthlessly.” I savored my coffee and smiled. Really, the girl had no idea at all how far she was from making the impression she wanted. “She can dance, though, can Miss Eleanor. Luckily I’m too poor to count as a real potential conquest. She was practicing on me, I think. Keeping her hand in.”

Mr. Pearse had a good chuckle, rich and fruity. “It must have been a relief to deal with the Stravaigor.”

“Not noticeably. He gave me a lecture on why everyone in the House should focus on making money to fill up the coffers and further our political ambitions. And he made veiled threats about finding me a posting to an embassy somewhere remote and uncivilized—”

“Timbuktu?”

“Almost as bad. The Americas.”

“South or North?”

“Is there a difference?”

Mr. Pearse chuckled. “Perhaps only in latitude.”

I proffered the cup for a refill. “That old man has eyes like the jackal he is—black and beady and without an ounce of humanity in them. He snarled and let me go with a warning that the House would use me if it could and as it would, with no choice on my side as to whether I want to play House games or not. Then he sweetened it by offering to buy my mother’s jewels and making the House coffers available to me if I need funding.”

“The House coffers? Don’t touch it. That way he has no power over you.” Mr. Pearse added another shot of coffee to the already strong brew, presumably his way of offering comfort.

“It isn’t so simple. If I find something, a business to invest in, what capital I have won’t be enough. Even if I sell the jewels. I mean, I don’t know what they’re worth, but my father was a country squire, not a duke. I can’t imagine my mother’s jewel casket was extensive. I have a list of her jewels somewhere in with the lawyer’s papers, but there isn’t much in the way of detail. I would have to search hard to lay my hands on it.”

“If the Stravaigor’s interested, you can be assured it will include some good quality pieces. What was your mother’s family?”

“Another, different cadet branch, the Anglo-Indian branch. She and Papa were second cousins, I believe.” We were far too inbred. The Stravaigor may have been right to look outside the Cartomancer’s allies. We could do with some fresh blood. “Selling the gewgaws might give me a good deposit, but I’ll probably still need to take out a loan. Sadly, I am not well enough known to my bankers to make that an attractive option for them. The House may be my sole chance to raise the capital, and the loan would be below market rates. What would you do when funds are offered at such preferential rates?”

“Hold my nose and take them,” conceded Mr. Pearse. He glanced away, looking around the shabby room. “While looking for ways to minimize the loan and dodging the strings it will come with. Because it will come with strings, Rafe. A man’s House is like a dog with a bone. It doesn’t give it up easily.”

I was obscurely pleased the old man had progressed to using my first name. As if I belonged. “Don’t I know it! At the very least he’ll expect me to start paying my tithe into the House bank. I’ve avoided that for years.”

We let the conversation about the Houses lapse there and turned to a discussion of the races that day instead. All the while, I wondered what I was to do with myself. It was time to look seriously for an occupation. I really couldn’t lounge around feeling sorry for myself for much longer. I had to find something to do.

If only to keep the Stravaigor from finding employment for me.

Chapter 10

M
EREDITH
HAD
left his card with me, the morning we woke in Margrethe’s luxurious bedroom and started the day as we’d ended the night before. We had been very energetic and, for a man at least ten years my senior, Meredith had shown considerable skill and stamina. Nothing loath to make use of that again, I had accepted the card and an invitation to drop in on Meredith one afternoon.

“Family obligations over the festive season cut into my time considerably, as I expect they do yours. Why not meet on New Year’s Eve itself, eh? The last year of the old century dawns, and that demands a celebration.” Meredith had laughed and looked rueful. “We’ll not live to see the end of the next century, after all. This will be an occasion, and we must take our pleasures while we can.”

New Year’s Eve arrived with another flurry of snow, dusting my coat and umbrella with white powder as I walked to Meredith’s lodgings. I had the card in my shagreen case in my pocket, in case I needed to remind myself of the address, but I was getting very familiar with Londinium’s streets, and I didn’t need to refer to it.

Meredith’s bachelor quarters were in Argyle Square, near Kings Cross. The houses were the usual flat-fronted design from earlier in the century, this one fallen on harder times at some point in the past and divided into small sets for single gentlemen. The square and neighborhood were a little down at heel, but the house itself was clean and well cared for. Meredith had the entire first floor—two big rooms with high decorative ceilings and marble fireplaces, divided by double doors he could fling open to make one large space. The windows of his sitting room overlooked the square and the gardens in the center.

“It’s really quite private here, and more salubrious than it looks from the outside,” Meredith—Daniel—said, taking me by the hand and drawing me into the room. He helped me out of my greatcoat and flung it over a chair. Smiling, he put both of his hands on my shoulders. They weighed heavy, and I could feel their heat through the stuff of my town suit.

“More private than my room,” I acknowledged. “I was told when I arrived I could have visitors, so long as none were of the female variety”—and here Meredith and I exchanged knowing smiles—“but the truth is I have little privacy there and a cousin as housekeeper who is notorious within the family for putting her long nose into everyone else’s business. I’m in good odor with her after a family reception at Christmas, but it wouldn’t last long if she discovered us. Cousin Agnes is a widow of great sensibility. She’d have the vapors.”

“I have more freedom here, of course.” He invited me to take advantage of it by opening his arms.

The kiss that followed set my veins afire. Good Lord, but that was nice. It had precisely the effect behind the plain front of my respectable gentleman-about-town trousers such kisses usually did. Things got very pressing there. I raised my arms to put them around Meredith’s neck and pull him in for another kiss, but Meredith pulled away again.