Don't Look Back Page 5

  Anthony studied Tobias lounging against the iron railing while he waited for Lavinia to retrieve her key from her reticule. Even from this distance he could detect his brother-in-law’s air of deep satisfaction. Tobias looked very much like a large beast relaxing after a successful hunt.

  “A rather lively bit of exercise, if I am not mistaken,” Anthony muttered.

  “I beg your pardon?” She gave him a curious look.

  Fortunately he did not have to come up with an explanation for the remark. At that moment Tobias turned his head and saw them coming toward the steps.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Emeline.” Tobias nodded at her. “How was the lecture?”

  “Not as learned as one might have hoped, but Anthony and I had a pleasant day nonetheless,” Emeline said easily.

  Mrs. Chilton got the door open just as Lavinia found her key.

  “Would you care to come in for some tea?” Lavinia asked Anthony.

  “Thank you, no.” He looked pointedly at Tobias. “I wish to speak with you, if you don’t mind.”

  Tobias elevated one brow and straightened away from the iron railing. “Can it wait?”

  “I’m afraid not. It is a matter of some importance.”

  “Very well. We can discuss it on the way to my club.” Tobias turned to Lavinia. “I will bid you good day, madam.”

  “Good day, sir.”

  Anthony was somewhat surprised by the uncharacteristically soft nature of her farewell, but Tobias did not appear to find it odd.

  They waited until the ladies were safely inside their own front hall before heading toward the corner to find a hackney.

  They managed to hail a carriage without difficulty and got into the cab.

  Tobias settled onto one of the seats and gave Anthony a considering look.

  “Is there something amiss? You look as if you have swallowed a spoonful of unpleasant medicine.”

  This was the second time in the past hour that someone had assumed him to be ill from his expression, he realized. It was annoying.

  “I am in need of a fortune,” he announced.

  “Aren’t we all?” Tobias stretched out his left leg. “If you find one, let me know. I will be delighted to share it with you.”

  “I am serious. I wish to acquire a sum of money that will enable me to support a wife in a proper style.”

  “Bloody hell.” Tobias met his eyes. “You’re in love with Miss Emeline, aren’t you?”

  “Yes.”

  “Damnation, I was afraid of this. Have you declared your affections to her?”

  “Of course not. I am in no position to do so, because I cannot ask her to marry me.”

  Tobias nodded in resigned comprehension. “Because you lack a fortune.”

  Anthony drummed his fingers on the window ledge. “I have been giving the matter some thought.”

  “Lord save us from young men who think too much.”

  “I am very determined about this.”

  “Yes, I can see that. I collect that you have concocted a plan to acquire this fortune you feel you need?”

  “I have a good head for cards. With a bit of practice—”

  “No.”

  “Granted, I have never played them for high stakes because you have always been so opposed to the notion of gambling, but I believe that I could do quite well at the tables.”

  “No.”

  “Hear me out.” Anthony leaned forward, intent on pressing his point. “The vast majority of gamesters do not approach their play in a logical manner. Indeed, they usually sit down to their cards after they are well into their cups. It is no wonder that most gentlemen lose heavily. I, however, intend to treat gaming from the standpoint of a mathematical problem.”

  “Your sister would come back to haunt me if I were to allow you to go into the hells. You know as well as I do that her greatest fear was that you would become a gamester.”

  “I know that Ann feared I would end up destitute, as our father did. But I assure you, that would not be the case.”

  “Hell’s teeth, it is not the fact that your father lost everything he possessed because he could not resist the damned gaming tables that worried her so greatly. It is that he got himself killed over a disputed hand of cards while trying to recover his losses. In the long run, there is no winning in that career.”

  “I am not my father.”

  “I know that.”

  Anthony stiffened. He had dreaded this conflict, well aware from the moment he had hatched his scheme that it loomed in front of him. The strategy was complicated, but he told himself he had to stick with it.

  “I do not wish to argue with you over this matter,” he said. “We both know that you cannot stop me. I am no longer a boy. This is my decision to make.”

  Tobias’s eyes darkened to the shade of a storm at sea. In all the years he had lived with this man who had been more of a father to him than his own parent, Anthony thought, he had rarely seen such cold and implacable promise in his gaze. A chill went through him.

  “Let us be clear on this,” Tobias said in his softest, most dangerous voice. “If you insist upon going into the hells, you can expect the devil’s own quarrel with me. You may believe that I cannot stop you, but you can count on finding me in your path every time you turn around. I have an obligation to Ann’s memory. Do not think that I will ignore my promise to her.”

  He had known this would be difficult, Anthony reminded himself. He drew a deep breath and straightened his shoulders.

  “I have no wish to be at odds with you over this,” he said. “You know full well that I respect you and your loyalty to your oath. But I am quite desperate and I do not see that I have any great choice in the matter.”

  Instead of launching into another lecture, Tobias turned his attention to the darkening street outside the window. He sank into a deep, brooding silence.

  Anthony endured it as long as he could. Then he made a stab at trying to lighten the grim atmosphere inside the carriage.

  “Tobias? Do you intend to cease speaking to me altogether?” He forced a small smile. “That is not like you. I expected something a bit more forceful. A threat to cut off my quarterly allowance, such as it is, perhaps.”

  “I told you a moment ago that you are not the only one who would very much like to get his hands on a fortune.”

  Anthony was bemused by the sudden change in the direction of the discussion. “I assumed you were joking.”

  “I assure you, I am not joking.”

  Comprehension struck with the force of summer lightning. “Good God, this is about Mrs. Lake, is it not? Are you thinking of asking her to marry you?”

  Tobias turned his head very slightly. “I am in no more of a position to ask her to marry me than you are in a position to ask Miss Emeline for her hand.”

  He would never get a better opening, Anthony thought. It was time to shift to the second phase of his carefully calculated plan.

  “On the contrary,” he said smoothly. “You are not in such dire straits. In fact, I envy you. After all, it is not as if you are totally lacking in resources. You make fat commissions from time to time in the course of your career as an investigator.”

  “My profession is a highly erratic and unpredictable means of making a living and well you know it.”

  “Mrs. Dove certainly paid you handsomely for the inquiries you made on her behalf in the affair of the waxwork murders. You came away with sufficient funds to enable you to invest in one of Crackenburne’s ships, did you not?”

  “I was able to afford only a single share in that venture. Furthermore, I will have no way of knowing whether or not it will be successful, let alone to what extent, until the bloody ship returns from the East. That will not happen for several months.”

  “And in the meantime, you must bide your time and hope that Mrs. Lake does not get swept off her feet by some other gentleman who can afford to support a wife,” Anthony said.

  “As you can see, I am not unsympathetic t
o your plight.”

  Anthony shrugged. “If it is any comfort, I very much doubt that Mrs. Lake would ever marry for money.”

  Tobias said nothing. He went back to gazing out the window.

  “Emeline has discussed her aunt’s feelings on the subject of marriage with me,” Anthony said.

  That information got Tobias’s attention. “What did Miss Emeline tell you?”

  “She is quite certain that, although Mrs. Lake is always going on about the importance of finances, she secretly possesses a deeply romantic nature.”

  “Lavinia? Romantic? Where in Hades did Emeline get that notion?”

  “I expect it is Mrs. Lake’s taste for romantic poetry that gave her the notion.”

  Tobias brooded on that for a moment. Then he shook his head. “Devil take it, there is no denying that Lavinia is very fond of poetry. But she is far too pragmatic to allow it to influence her personal decisions.”

  Anthony sighed inwardly. He reminded himself that, while Tobias possessed any number of excellent qualities, his brother-in-law had no patience with romantic or sentimental gestures, nor had he ever bothered to hone the fine art of charming the ladies.

  “Emeline seems absolutely certain that, because of her romantical sensibilities, Mrs. Lake would never be able to give herself in a loveless marriage,” he said patiently. “No matter how financially secure the arrangement promised to be.”

  “Hmm.”

  Tobias’s air of gloom would have been almost humorous under other circumstances, Anthony thought. But in truth, he actually felt rather sorry for his brother-in-law.

  Tobias had indulged in occasional affairs in the past, Anthony reflected, but since they had lost Ann and the babe all those years ago, he had never known his brother-in-law to care enough about a lady to allow himself to be brought to this sort of impasse. The business with Mrs. Lake was serious. Tobias required guidance.

  Anthony cleared his throat. “It strikes me that you would do well to take a more romantical approach with Mrs. Lake. I cannot help but notice that you seem to be quite brusque with her on occasion.”

  “No doubt because she insists upon arguing with me at every turn. I have never met a more stubborn female.”

  “I expect she grows weary of listening to you issue orders.”

  Tobias’s jaw clenched. “Bloody hell. I can hardly be expected to transform myself into an imitation of Byron and his ilk. For one thing, I am too old to play the romantic poet. For another, I cannot write verse worth a damn.”

  “I am not suggesting that you become a poet. Just that you might try the odd poetical turn of phrase.”

  Tobias narrowed his eyes. “Such as?”

  “Well, upon first greeting her in the morning, you could compare her to a goddess.”

  “A goddess? Have you gone mad?”

  “Just a suggestion.”

  Tobias started to massage his left thigh. He fell silent for a long moment.

  “Which goddess?” he asked eventually.

  “Well, one can never go wrong likening a lady to Venus.”

  “Venus. That is absolute rubbish. Lavinia would laugh in my face.”

  “I don’t think so,” Anthony said softly. “I do not think that any lady would laugh at finding herself compared to Venus in the morning.”

  “Huh.”

  He had done all he could for the moment, Anthony thought. It was time to shift the subject back to the more pressing topic.

  “If I could come up with the necessary blunt,” he said casually, “perhaps Crackenburne would allow me to purchase a share in one of his shipping ventures also.”

  “You will not find the money you need for an investment in those infernal clubs where fools seek their fortunes with hazard and cards,” Tobias said. “There is a reason they call them hells.”

  The somber shadows lengthened in the carriage.

  Tobias’s mouth thinned. “I have told you often enough that you could make an excellent career as a man of business. You have a head for figures and details. Crackenburne would be happy to recommend you to one of his friends.”

  “I have no interest in that profession.”

  Silence fell.

  “I do have another suggestion,” Anthony said. He was cautious now, feeling his way as he slipped closer to his ultimate goal.

  Tobias looked wary. “What is it?”

  “You could take me on as your assistant.”

  “You already perform that function on occasion.”

  “But only in the most informal manner.” Anthony warmed to his topic. The notion had been brewing in the back of his mind all afternoon. “I mean to assume a post as your official assistant. A sort of man of affairs for you, as it were. In return, you will teach me the fine points of making private inquiries and conducting investigations.”

  “And what do you expect to gain?”

  “An income,” Anthony said.

  “Instead of an allowance, do you mean?” Tobias asked dryly.

  “Precisely. And occasional bonuses would be nice.”

  “Wouldn’t they, though? Nothing like an occasional bonus, I always say.”

  Anthony sucked in a deep breath. “Will you at least think about my proposition?”

  Tobias met his eyes. “You’re serious, are you not?”

  “Never more so. I believe that I have a flair for the profession.”

  “I’m not sure that there is any such thing as a flair for this line of work,” Tobias said. “In my experience, one falls into this business when other, more respectable alternatives fail to produce an income that is sufficient to keep one out of the workhouse. Rather like the career of streetwalking.”

  Five

  EMELINE LOOKED AT LAVINIA ACROSS THE WIDTH of the breakfast table. “You are quite certain that this business of seeing Oscar Pelling in the street yesterday has not disturbed you unduly?”

  “I admit I was somewhat jolted initially by the sight of him.” Lavinia opened her newspaper. “But I have recovered nicely, thank you.”

  Thanks to the fact that she no longer had to conceal her dark secret from Tobias, she added silently.

  “You always do.”

  “Always do what?”

  Emeline smiled. “Recover nicely. Indeed, you have a talent for bouncing back, my dear aunt.”

  “Yes, well, one really has no alternative, does one?” Lavinia took a sip of coffee. “And as I said, it was likely that sooner or later I would come across Pelling now that we are back in London. Even gentlemen who prefer their estates, as Pelling does, must come to Town once in a while to tend to their business affairs. At least he did not appear to notice me.”

  “I suppose so.” Emeline made a face. “Dreadful man. I trust he will soon return to his estates.”

  “I’m sure he will. He was not one to enjoy the pleasures of Society, as I recall.” Lavinia turned a page of the newspaper. And who cared a fig about Pelling, anyway, now that Tobias knew the truth and did not count it against her? Life certainly seemed a good bit lighter and brighter this morning.

  Emeline helped herself to some jam from the little pot in the center of the table. “I want to talk to you, if you don’t mind.”

  “You are talking to me.”

  “I mean, I want to discuss something important. I have been thinking about my career.”

  “What career? You don’t have one.”

  Lavinia did not look up from the newspaper. A sheet of paper and a pencil lay on the table next to her coffee cup. After much thought, she had concluded that before undertaking the task of writing an advertisement for the newspapers, it would be instructive to study the subject.

  To that end, she had decided to make a list of especially effective words and phrases that appeared in the most attractive advertisements. Her goal was to develop a riveting vocabulary that could be employed in the notices that she herself eventually would write to advertise her services as an investigator.

  The notices in this morning’s paper were a var
ied lot. Most were not particularly arresting, in Lavinia’s opinion. There was an announcement of rooms available to let with a pleasant view of the park, and another alerting gentlemen of fashion to the arrival of superior cotton shirting guaranteed to prevent profuse perspiration.

  Far and away the most interesting notice had been placed by a Dr. G. A. Darfield, who offered treatments for widows and married ladies who suffer from delicate nerves and female hysteria. He promised singularly effective remedies especially suited to the female constitution.

  “That is precisely my point,” Emeline said. “I do not have a career.”

  “Of course you don’t.” Lavinia pondered the advertisement that offered treatments for female hysteria. “What do you think of the phrase singularly effective remedies?”

  “It sounds too medicinal in nature. Lavinia, you are not listening to me. I am attempting to discuss my future.”

  “What is the problem with your future?” Lavinia picked up the pencil and jotted down the words singularly and effective. “I thought it was shaping up rather nicely. Thanks to Joan Dove, we have invitations to two of the most important social events of the Season—the Stillwater ball and the one Joan herself is planning. Which reminds me, we have appointments with Madam Francesca for fittings for our gowns.”

  “Yes, I know. But I do not want to talk about balls and fashions.” Emeline paused. “I mean to establish myself in a profession, Lavinia.”

  “Nonsense.” Lavinia frowned at a milliner’s advertisement: An excellent selection for discerning persons who are interested only in the most fashionable bonnets and hats. “No gentleman of the ton wants a wife who has established herself in a career. Do you think I should describe my services as fashionable?”

  “I don’t see how one can describe the business of making confidential inquiries as fashionable.”

  “On the contrary. It is obvious that if one wishes to attract an exclusive clientele one must contrive to appear fashionable, regardless of the services one offers. No member of the ton can abide the notion of being unfashionable.”

  “Lavinia, I do not intend to marry any gentleman who moves in the ton. Indeed, I cannot imagine a more dreadful fate.”