The Free Fellows were meeting at White's in half an hour to summarize the days' events. Praying that the Duke of Sussex's absence from this morning's meeting was an anomaly, Jarrod hoped he was worrying for naught and that Sussex would be at White's to brief them on his mission.
"Not nearly long enough," Henderson told him. "Sir, isn't there anyone else we could engage to escort the ladies? If His Grace doesn't appear for this evening's meeting, one must suppose something untoward has happened and plan accordingly. And if that is the case, you are the logical choice to assume the next mission."
"Who do you suggest we engage to escort the ladies?"
"I suggest we ask Lord Mayhew to substitute for you."
Jarrod recognized the wisdom in that. "Lord Rob is completely trustworthy."
"And, if I may point out, sir, Lord Mayhew adores ladies and is quite at home in the ton," Henderson added.
"That's true," Jarrod agreed. He could count on Lord Rob to squire the ladies about London and to enjoy doing it. And Jarrod would be free to attend to his Free Fellow duties without worrying about Sarah and her aunt. Lord Rob would be able to discourage any attention Lord Dunbridge might pay to them. Yes, Jarrod decided, Henderson was correct. Lord Rob was the perfect choice. "Good idea, Henderson," Jarrod said. "I'll ask him about it tonight at Lady Garrison's."
Henderson frowned at him. "Sir, the point in asking Lord Mayhew to escort the ladies is to have him accompany them to Lady Garrison's this evening so that you might avoid it."
Jarrod smiled. "I'm aware of the point, Henderson. But Lady Dunbridge is expecting me tonight and I don't intend to go back upon my word at this late hour." He knew Henderson was right. He knew that it would be a relatively simple matter to ask Lord Rob to stand in his stead this evening, but Jarrod wouldn't consider the possibility because deep inside, he knew he wanted to see Sarah again. He'd been sorely disappointed when she hadn't joined him and her aunt for breakfast. In fact, Jarrod hadn't realized just how much he'd looked forward to seeing Sarah until she'd failed to appear. Jarrod met Henderson's gaze in the mirror. "It's time I accepted one of Lady Garrison's invitations. Past time, I think."
Henderson shook his head. "I don't like the idea of you going there alone."
"I know you don't," Jarrod said. "And I appreciate your concern, but it was bound to happen sooner or later. I couldn't avoid it forever. Besides, I won't be alone. I'll be escorting Lady Dunbridge and her niece." He smiled at his butler. "I left a stack of outgoing correspondence, including my acceptance of Lady Garrison's invitation, on the tray on my desk in the study. Please see that they're delivered right away and send a note around to Lord Rob and ask that he meet me at Lady Garrison's tonight." Naked from the waist up, Jarrod stepped away from the shaving stand and pulled a clean dress shirt over his head.
"Very good, sir." Henderson collected a length of linen from the bureau drawer and draped it around Jarrod's collar. He fashioned the neckcloth into a small bow tie and handed Jarrod an embroidered black waistcoat.
"Have we received a reply from Lambeth Palace?" Jarrod asked, slipping his arms into the waistcoat and buttoning the onyx buttons.
Henderson nodded. "His Grace sent a messenger to tell us that he's granting your request for an audience at nine tomorrow morning. And His Grace said to tell you that he expects to see you at morning services."
Jarrod groaned.
"It's a small price to pay for his granting an audience on such short notice," Henderson reminded him.
Jarrod sat down on a wing chair to put on his shoes, then stood up and allowed Henderson to assist him with his coat before grabbing his hat and gloves off the dressing table. "Yes, it is," Jarrod agreed. "But it's a price I'd rather avoid."
"One must always pay the piper, sir," Henderson said. "Everything comes at a price."
Jarrod nodded. "Any other words of wisdom?"
"Lady Garrison's party begins promptly at nine. In order to get to Richmond, you'll need to pick up the ladies you're escorting no later than a quarter 'til eight to avoid arriving late," Henderson said. "Your coach and coachmen are waiting outside."
"Thank you, Fairy Godmother," Jarrod teased.
Henderson didn't bat an eye or miss a beat. "You're welcome, Cinderella. Now, remember to return home before the last stroke of midnight or you risk turning into a turnip."
"I believe you mean a pumpkin." Jarrod laughed. "And I'll have to risk it because the party won't be over until well beyond midnight."
"Pumpkins. Turnips." Henderson shrugged. "What's the difference? They're both vegetables and the result is the same. A fat-headed marquess."
"Is that your way of telling me not to overimbibe?" Jarrod asked.
Henderson shook his head. "Not at all, sir," he replied. "I am a man who enjoys spirits and I would never presume to tell you to limit your consumption of them."
"I haven't got all night," Jarrod said. "Get to the point, Henderson."
"I thought I had, sir."
Jarrod raised his eyebrow in query. "Enlighten me."
"Since you insist on going to the Garrisons', I'm simply reminding you to come home and get some sleep so you'll have all your wits about you when you face the archbishop tomorrow morning."
Jarrod gave Henderson a slight bow as he exited his room. "Message understood, sir."
* * *
Chapter Sixteen
Contents - Prev | Next
We are the boys
That fear no noise
Where the thundering cannons roar.
— Oliver Goldsmith, 1128-1114
"Has anyone seen or heard from Daniel?" Jarrod asked without preamble as soon as Griff, Colin, Jonathan, and Alex settled into their customary places in the private room at White's.
"Not a word," Griff answered.
"I made discreet inquiries all day," Alex, Marquess of Courtland, the youngest and newest member of the League, reported, "and no one has seen him since last night."
Jonathan nodded. "He seems to have vanished."
"He couldn't have vanished without someone seeing him." Jarrod drained his coffee cup, set it on a side table, and began to pace. "Someone saw something."
Colin hooked the leg of a leather ottoman with the toe of his boot and pulled it out of Jarrod's path. He pushed the ottoman closer to Griff, allowing more room so Jarrod might wear out the carpet unimpeded. "True," Colin agreed, "but so far, we've been unable to locate anyone who has."
"I even paid a call upon the dowager duchess at Sussex House this afternoon," Jonathan added. "She hasn't seen him since last evening either, but that's not unusual since her apartments are in the opposite wing."
"Did she sound concerned?" Griff shifted his weight on the sofa, then propped his right leg on the ottoman Colin had removed from Jarrod's path. Leaning forward, he reached down to massage his thigh in an effort to relieve the ache from the saber cut he'd taken across his hip and thigh during the battle of Fuentes de Onoro. It had been two years since his injury, but the wound still pained him when he stood for long periods of time or when he danced, and he'd spent a good portion of the previous evening dancing with his wife at the Duchess of Sussex's ball.
"Not at all," Jonathan told them. "If anything, Aunt Lavinia was quite annoyed with him for including Lady St. Germaine on the guest list without informing her."
"Why wasn't Lady St. Germaine's name on the duchess's guest list in the first place?" Jarrod demanded, pacing harder and faster, equally annoyed that Daniel had managed to include the Marchioness of St. Germaine on his mother's guest list, yet neglected to add Colin and Gillian to the list. "When did Sussex add the marchioness's name to the list? And for that matter, why weren't Viscount Grantham and his viscountess's names added?"
Griff made a circling motion in the air with his finger and Jarrod automatically turned and began pacing in the opposite direction. It was Griff's way of attempting to save Jarrod a few pounds, for Shepherdston's notorious tendency to pace the width and breadth of their favorite private
meeting room at White's wore out carpets at an alarming rate and the gentlemen's club billed the marquess every time they replaced the carpet.
"She didn't mention Grantham or his viscountess," Jonathan said. "But Aunt Lavinia was in quite a lather about Lady St. Germaine. Apparently she dislikes the Marchioness of St. Germaine enough to deliberately omit her name from the annual guest list."
Griff ran his fingers through his hair in a show of frustration. "That doesn't bode well for the future," he muttered. Miranda, Lady St. Germaine, was his wife's closest friend and had served as Alyssa's maid of honor at their wedding. Miranda was a frequent guest at Griff and Alyssa's Park Lane house and Abernathy Manor, their country house in Northamptonshire, and Griff was privy to Miranda's aspirations regarding the Duke of Sussex.
"Maybe not." Jonathan grinned. "Because apparently Daniel sends the marchioness an invitation every year and adds her name to the final guest list. I understand that this battle of wills between Aunt Lavinia and Daniel has become so heated that my aunt refuses to tell Daniel when the invitations go out or allow him to see the final guest list. Last night she gave the staff strict orders that Miranda was not to be allowed entrance to Sussex House unless she was accompanied by the prince regent. Aunt Lavinia was furious because Miranda got past the footmen and Weldon, the butler."
"That's outrageous!" Courtland exclaimed. "Lady St. Germaine has never done anything to warrant having the duchess bar her from the house."
"Except threaten her," Griff said softly.
"Miranda threatened Aunt Lavinia?" Jonathan couldn't contain a small satisfied smile. "I would have paid money to see that."
"Then open your eyes, Barclay," Colin said. "Because as long as Miranda St. Germaine remains unattached she's a threat to the duchess."
Jonathan widened his eyes and his smile as understanding dawned. "I assumed Daniel's infatuation with Miranda was over and done with years ago."
"So does everyone else," Jarrod said. "Except Her Grace, the Duchess of Sussex…"
"Who is afraid of losing her influence over society and over her son if she's consigned to the lesser role of dowager duchess," Colin added.
"But Her Grace is already the dowager duchess," Courtland pointed out.
"Her position as mistress of Sussex House and every-thing else Sussex owns is only secure because her son is unmarried," Griff said softly.
"But Aunt Lavinia's been pushing young ladies in Daniel's direction for years," Jonathan pointed out.
"She's been pushing young ladies in Sussex's direction," Colin agreed, "but Sussex hasn't paid an iota of attention to any of them…"
"Except Alyssa," Griff added, reminding them all that he had almost lost his wife to Sussex when Sussex's mother and Alyssa's mother, who were fast friends, had planned to unite their families with a marriage between their offspring. But Griff and Alyssa had ruined the plan when they chose each other. "Not that I can fault the man's taste in the least."
"Be fair," Jarrod reminded him. "You know there were extenuating circumstances to Sussex's pursuit of Alyssa."
"I know that now," Griff agreed. "But I didn't know it or appreciate it at the time." It had taken him a while to get over his jealousy of Sussex and to forgive the man for seeing Alyssa's potential as a duchess, but Griff had finally managed. He genuinely liked Sussex as a man and as a friend and fellow Free Fellow and Griff truly admired the way he carried the burden of his position in society — a position to which Daniel had been born and one that had been thrust upon Griff and to which he was still learning to adjust.
"Barclay, you're his cousin. You've known Daniel longer than any of us. So tell us, how many ladies, other than Griff's duchess, have captured and held Sussex's attention for longer than a night or two?" Jarrod asked.
"One," Jonathan answered.
"And the lady's name is…" Colin prompted.
"Miranda, Marchioness St. Germaine."
Jarrod turned to Griffin. "Have you seen Miranda since the party last night?"
Griff frowned. "No. Alyssa asked Miranda and her mother to accompany us, but Miranda suggested we meet at Sussex House so that Lord and Lady Tressingham and my parents could ride with us."
"Did you see Miranda or her mother there?" Colin asked.
Griff shook his head. "No."
"She was there," Jonathan said. "Because Aunt Lavinia was furious with Daniel for inviting her and furious with Miranda for not having the good manners to stay away from where she wasn't invited."
Jarrod stopped pacing. He met Colin's gaze and they both looked at Griff. "Did Alyssa say anything about Miranda leaving town?"
"No."
"They're together." Jarrod grinned. "For whatever reason, Sussex and Miranda are together." Colin hesitated. "Maybe." Jarrod glared at Colin.
But Colin wasn't deterred. "Sussex and Miranda may be together, but it's just as likely that they aren't."
"Nobody has seen either one of them," Jarrod insisted.
"Nobody we've talked to has seen either one of them," Colin clarified. "But that doesn't mean they've headed to Scotland or that they're sharing an address."
"Grantham's right," Courtland said. "We can't assume anything. We're just going to have to keep looking until we hear from Sussex."
Griff glanced at Jarrod. "They're right."
"I know," Jarrod agreed. "But I'd like to think Sussex and Miranda are otherwise engaged."
"Because the alternative is that Daniel may be in trouble." Colin gave voice to their fears. "We may not want to think about it, but we'll be remiss in our duty if we don't. We're engaged in a desperate and dangerous business and we all know there are French agents here in London…"
"… And if any of them suspected Daniel might be involved in a little clandestine smuggling…" Jonathan picked up the direction of Colin's thoughts.
"… The crush at the Duchess of Sussex's party would have been the perfect place to set a trap for him. No one would have noticed anything unusual in all that crowd," Courtland said. He shuddered, remembering how close one French agent had come to penetrating the League not so very long ago.
"I was hoping Sussex would be here tonight with a ready explanation for his absence this morning," Jarrod admitted.
"As were we all," Jonathan said grimly.
"Then I suppose we're all in agreement that his continued absence and the information we've gathered today means we'll need to do a bit of reconnoitering among the ton tonight," Jarrod said.
"Agreed," all the Free Fellows replied in unison.
"Luckily we all dressed the part." Jarrod spread his hands wide to indicate his own formal evening dress, then nodded at each of the other Free Fellows, who were all wearing evening clothes.
Courtland grimaced. "I'm escorting my mother to the opera. Where are the rest of you going?"
"Lady Cleveland's," Jonathan replied.
"Colin and Gillian and Alyssa and I are going to my sister-in-law's ball," Griff said.
"I'm also going to Lady Garrison's ball," Jarrod offered.
Griff was clearly surprised. "You are?"
Jarrod nodded.
"I'm sure my sister-in-law will be delighted," Griff said. "But are you sure you want to go there?"
"Quite sure," Jarrod said. "She did invite me. I think it's time I accept her invitation."
"Every hostess in London invites you to her parties," Griff reminded him. "And unless our League business requires it or it's one of Alyssa's gatherings, you rarely attend any of them."
"I'm making an exception for Lady Garrison," Jarrod replied.
"A major exception," Griff said. "And what I want to know is why?"
Jarrod smiled. "Let's just say that it's time I stayed on your duchess's good side by accepting her sister's invitation."
Colin glanced skyward and shook his head at Jarrod's patently transparent prevarication. "Let's just say that it probably has something to do with the wager entered into the betting books this afternoon." Although Colin rarely wagered except with h
is closest friends, his father was an inveterate gambler and Colin had made it a matter of habit to check the betting books at White's in the morning and in the afternoon almost every day to see if his father had wagered on anything recorded on the pages.
"Damnation!" Jarrod swore. "He certainly didn't waste any time recording it. I only had coffee with him this morning."
"It was on the books by early afternoon," Colin told him. "Has anyone else taken the wager?"
"Of course," Colin answered. "A wager that large is bound to attract attention."
"Your father's?" Jarrod asked.
"Thankfully no," Colin replied, refilling his coffee cup and taking a sip of the brew. "But there are several others who can't afford to lose that amount."
"Who?" Jarrod demanded.
"Carville, Jackson, Munford, and several others."
"For or against?"
"Those I mentioned are betting on you," Colin told him. "The others are wagering against it."
"I haven't looked at the books lately," Jonathan said. "So tell us, who wagered what?"
"Yes." Courtland was fairly chomping at the bit for details. "Who did what?"
"Lord Dunbridge recorded a wager he made with Jarrod," Colin answered.
Griff scowled. Dunbridge wasn't one of their contemporaries. And as far as he knew, Jarrod was barely acquainted with the man. "What sort of wager would you have with a dandy like Lord Dunbridge?"
"A thousand-pound wager," Colin answered.
"Jupiter!" Barclay exclaimed.
"Must be a sure thing," Courtland added.
"Far from it, I'd say," Colin replied. "Lord Dunbridge wagered a thousand pounds that he would marry a certain young lady at the end of the season."
"At least he had the good manners not to mention her by name," Jarrod said.
"Oh, but he did," Colin told him. "I had the good manners not to mention her by name, but Dunbridge wrote it out for all to see."
"I don't believe it!" Jarrod was outraged at that breach of etiquette. One might mention a mistress or a widow or a woman of dubious character in wagers of this nature, but never an unmarried young lady of good family.