Moon Love Page 12

  These necessities to polite behaviour accomplished, Amy said, “I just met that Mr. Ford fellow in the bank. I never see him in church, Mrs. Ladd.”

  “No, dear, I’m afraid he’s a Dissenter.”

  “Ah, one of those. You have met him, then?”

  “Not I! Mr. Ladd called on him when he first came to town.”

  “Where is he staying?”

  “He’s hired Everton’s place, on Church Road.”

  “That big house! He has a family, then?”

  “No, he lives alone, except for his servants.”

  “Oh yes. And who has he hired?” she asked, thinking some of her own servants might be related.

  “No one local. He hired a couple of servants from the far side of town. Both male servants.” This was interesting on two points. Female servants were cheaper and better at keeping the house tidy. Their coming from the far side of town suggested that Kirby might have recommended the men.

  “And he has no house maid at all?”

  “Both men,” Mrs. Ladd said, nodding her head for emphasis. “Ford is a retired school teacher. I daresay he is used to male servants from whatever school he comes from. I never heard, actually. Not Eton or Harrow – that I do know. He is pretty young to be retired. I fancy he inherited a bit of money and is planning to take a few students after he’s settled. Why else would he have hired that big old house? He’s had two fellows visiting him for weeks. Mr. Ladd thinks they must be teachers as well. Perhaps they’re planning to open a school. Mind you that is mere speculation.”

  A retired school teacher whose sideline was taking bets on the horses? And he hadn’t spoken like an educated man. There was definitely something suspicious about Mr. Ford. Mrs. Ladd had no more information to offer, however, and Amy soon left the shop. She turned her steps to the green to meet Felix. When he suggested they walk Miss Kell home, she readily agreed. Miss Kell’s aunt lived on the High Street. It made an excuse to linger, hoping Ravencroft would come along.

  When he didn’t, she decided it was best to go home. He had said he knew where to find her, and that suggested that he might visit Bratty Hall, or at least send a message. She paused. She knew where to find him. With Felix as an escort, she did not fear any sly looks from the clerk at the Greenman. As she felt her findings were important, she decided to leave Ravencroft a note when they went to pick up the carriage at the inn.

  While Felix called the carriage, she went to the desk and asked for paper and a pen. “Dear Mr. Stanford,” she wrote, in case the clerk read her message, as she had caught him doing once before. “Re last night, I would like to speak to you as soon as possible.” She read it and frowned. The message was fraught with possibilities for misinterpretation if the clerk did read it. She added, “I believe I have found just the house you are looking for. Urgent action required. Sincerely, Miss Bratty.”

  She handed it to the clerk. “Please see that Mr. Stanford gets this the moment he comes in.”

  “He’s not out, Miss Bratty. He hasn’t come down yet. Shall I have it sent up?”

  She felt certain Ravencroft would ask her to wait if he knew she was at the inn, and she didn’t want to discuss her findings in front of Felix. “No, thank you. Just see that he gets it as soon as he comes down.”

  She joined Felix and they went out to wait for the carriage.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Lord Ashworth took a turn for the worse while Amy and Felix were out that morning. Tombey had called for the doctor, who was still there when Amy heard the news and ran upstairs. “Nanny, don’t leave me,” Ashworth cried, and grabbed her hand in his fevered fingers. The doctor prescribed some medicine and left, with the arrangement that he would return later that afternoon. Amy was worried, and in a bad humor besides to see that Felix was secretly delighted.

  She stayed with her father, holding his hand and talking quietly to him until he fell asleep. When she went belowstairs, Felix had eaten an early lunch and left. “Gone to make a few calls,” was what he had told the butler. Amy felt it was only one call, probably on Blanche. And at a time like this! How could he?

  Amy ate alone in the dining room, where the table had been set for Felix, fretting over her future. It seemed unfair and unfortunate that Felix, who was not Ashworth’s son and cared nothing for him or Bratty Hall, would soon be master here. How long would it take him to run it all into the ground, if she were not there to guide him? Between wenching and gambling and indulging his expensive taste of every sort, he would be bankrupt in five years. What a carefree, pleasured life these dissolute gentlemen led.

  After lunch, she retired to the morning parlor, to which the butler showed Lord Ravencroft when he called. His visit provided a welcome relief from worrying about her papa. Whatever else happened, she would continue the Cougar’s work.

  “Where is your cousin?” Ravencroft asked, looking around.

  “He is out. Did you want to see him in particular?”

  “No! I – but you have something to tell me, I believe, before you call a chaperon?”

  She looked at him as if he were mad. “A chaperon? What on earth for? We have talked without a chaperon before now.”

  “A call at a young lady’s house is different. A social occasion.”

  “For goodness sake, sit down, Ravencroft. I am hardly a deb,” she scoffed, wondering at this sudden streak of propriety. Was it because she had received him in the morning parlor? This, her special room, seemed more intimate than the saloon. He sat beside her on a chair before the grate.

  Ravencroft hardly knew how to answer her. He had felt no sense of impropriety on other occasions when he was alone with Miss Bratty in more questionable settings than this. She looked sad and somehow vulnerable today. While it was true she was not a deb, and not quite a green girl either, she was a provincial lady, and more innocent than the ladies he was used to.

  “You are hardly thirty either, ma’am,” he pointed out. “That is the age at which ladies are considered capable of handling gents on their own. I would not want to be charged with corrupting you.”

  “Is your reputation so dubious as that, milord?” she asked, not in alarm, but rather with a mocking note of disparagement.

  He bowed. “I hope not indeed. You see before you a reformed rake, ma’am,” he said, smiling to show he was exaggerating his wickedness.

  “I had not thought rakes were capable of reformation. I wish you would tell me the secret.”

  “I can only tell you how I accomplished the near impossible. I reformed my dissolute ways under threat of disinheritance.”

  “It is news to me that an eldest son can be deprived of his estate and title.”

  “No more he can, but he can be deprived of other wealth by assorted relatives with money well worth inheriting. Now do you not think you should call someone – the housekeeper, perhaps?”

  “Strangely, I do not feel in the least imperiled. I was just thinking before you arrived that it must be lovely to be carefree and dissolute. It is hard to accomplish in the country,” she said.

  Was Miss Bratty teasing him? Was she, perhaps, more sophisticated than he imagined? “Shall I teach you?” he asked in a softly insinuating voice, glancing a dare from the corner of his eyes, and waited for the explosion of outraged propriety – or the next step in an à suivie flirtation. Either would have amused him. Miss Bratty did not oblige him by following either course.

  Unoffended, she considered the offer a moment, then said, “No, thank you. I am not ready for such advanced dissolution as that, Lord Ravencroft. I was thinking more of having a few beaux, and jilting a couple of them.”

  “That is not dissolution, ma’am. It is more commonly called flirting, and is considered unexceptionable if not mandatory amongst the ton in London.”

  “That must be nice,” she said, almost wistfully, “but unfortunately the gentlemen hereabouts are unflirtable. They just want to get married. Don’t raise your eyebrow in that odious way! I have an excellent dowry.”

 
Before Ravencroft could point out that there was one entirely flirtable gentleman in the room, she rushed on to business. “But that is not what I want to talk about. I have some very interesting things to tell you.” She directed a severe look at him and said, “While you were sawing logs until all hours this morning, I was busy on the case.”

  “On the other hand, while you were sawing logs last night, I was out until dawn looking for that demmed wagon.”

  She leaned forward, her eyes shining. “Did you find it?”

  “No, but I was up all night looking. What is your news?”

  She told him in great detail everything she had seen and heard at the bank that morning, along with all her ideas and doubts. “I have been so curious to discuss it with you. What do you make of it, Lord Ravencroft?”

  “Could we have some tea?” he said. “It is chilly out.”

  She blinked. “Yes, certainly.” She rang for the butler and ordered the tea. “But what do you make of all I told you?”

  “I am sorry I didn’t look at Everton’s stable last night when I was searching for the wagon. Everton’s place is at the end of the road, you said?”

  “Yes, and you don’t have to drive through the village to reach it either. There is a back road – a short cut to the church, for the farmers who live west of town. That is the way they would have taken the wagon last night. But – do you think Fairmont is behind it?”

  “I think he is involved, though not necessarily as the ring leader. Ford might be forcing him to cooperate, perhaps using his gambling debt as leverage. You mentioned he plays the horses.”

  “Yes, I was shocked to hear it. Neither of them actually mentioned anything except silk. Still, if they used Fairmont’s bank, he must be in on it.”

  “I wonder how many of them are at the house.”

  “Five, all men. Ford, two male servants and two male guests.”

  “How do you know that?” he asked doubtfully.

  “Mrs. Ladd, the vicar’s wife, told me. She always knows everything. I was fortunate to find her at McGillicuddy’s this morning.”

  Ravencroft shook his head. “I am amazed you took time to go shopping amidst all your spying. Did you buy some green ribbons?”

  “I was not shopping, Lord Ravencroft,” she objected. “I only went into the drapery shop to see what I could find out about Ford. The drapery shop is the best place for gossip. You must know that.”

  “Actually I have never had a female assistant before.”

  She didn’t raise her voice or scowl. She just looked him squarely in the eye and said, “Partner, not assistant.”

  Ravencroft swallowed the bitter pill. “Partner,” he agreed. “We have to get into the house before they move the money. How the deuce can we get five of them out at one time?”

  “I have been considering that,” she said. “They’re not church goers. As Ford’s other interest is horse racing, a horse race might accomplish it. It would have to be far enough away that he would be gone a few hours. One assumes he would take his guests with him. Only of course they aren’t guests. They’re part of the gang.”

  “That still leaves the servants. They are most likely part of the gang as well. At least one of them will stay to guard the money.”

  “Surely we can handle one man,” she said, looking at him in astonishment. “But where is there a race, preferably late enough in the afternoon that Ford won’t be home before dark? We are agreed that it will be better to break into his house after dark, so that the one left on guard doesn’t spot us?”

  “Of course. About the race, I’ll set it up myself, send word to a few friends who live close enough to enter their nags. I wish I could run a couple of Lord Ravencroft’s bloods to lend interest. I am a little known in racing circles. My nags, unfortunately, are either at Newmarket or at home.”

  “At Cheyne Bay?”

  “How did you – Oh, Felix, of course.”

  “No, you mentioned it. Felix only keeps track of where young ladies live. But I believe you have sisters?”

  “Not single ones.”

  She laughed. “That wouldn’t make any difference to him.”

  “It would to my sisters,” he said with a blighting stare.

  “Then I take it they don’t share your dissolution?”

  “No, they are ladies. They would not, for instance, leave a note for a gentleman at a public inn.”

  Amy sniffed. “You sound as if it were a billet doux! It was purely business. You must have noticed how discreetly I worded it, in case the clerk read it. They do, you know. I felt it important to let you know about Ford.”

  “So it was, but I still think my notion of letting the locals think I am courting you was a good one.”

  Amy did not recognize any hint of flirtation in this speech, nor in the inviting smile that accompanied it. “Perhaps you’re right,” she said. “Come to dine with us this evening, and we shall go to the assembly together.”

  “I’m afraid – “

  “You are the one who suggested we let on you are courting me,” she charged, hurt at his refusal. “It is an oddly dilatory suitor who never calls on his lady friend!” She waited for him to explain what kept him from coming to dinner. When he said nothing, she was goaded to further complaint. “You need not worry I have a tendre for you. Good God, you are not at all the type I like.”

  His pride piqued, he asked, “And what type do you prefer, Miss Bratty? A Felix type, or a Greek god with golden curls on his forehead and biceps like melons?”

  “I have always preferred polite gentlemen.”

  “Surely that is redundant,” he drawled, and took another sip of tea to show his ennui.

  “One would think so, but it seems it is not always the case,” she retorted. “I own you are gentlemanly insofar as appearance and conversation go, but then we are cautioned not to judge a book by its cover.”

  “Conversation goes somewhat beyond the cover, n’est-ce pas?”

  “I meant your grammar and vocabulary are gentlemanly. You phrase your insults elegantly enough.”

  “I am happy that something about me pleases you.”

  “No, you are not,” she said bluntly. “You don’t give a brass farthing, nor do I, so let us finish this pointless conversation.”

  “It was not of my choosing. It is not nice to foist an argument on a gentleman, Miss Bratty, and terminate it before he has a chance to defend himself. I have already made plans to dine this evening. Otherwise, I would be happy to join you.”

  Amy was aware of a surge of anger. “With the Spencers, I expect?” He was as bad as Felix, thinking of his pleasure when there was a job of vital importance to be done.

  “No, not with Miss Spencer.” After a moment he added, “Are you not curious to hear whom?”

  “I had best not press you on this delicate subject,” she said haughtily, but there was a question in the bright green eyes that studied him.

  “Shame on you, Miss Bratty. I am taking dinner with the Misses Harper.”

  She blinked in astonishment. “Good lord.”

  He raked her with a saturnine smile. “Come now, confess. You thought I had succumbed to the charms of Blanche and company. I am more discerning, I promise you. As the Harpers were so curious about me, a stranger in town, I felt they would be a good source of information about the local doings.”

  “How did you strike up this friendship with them?”

  “I followed them into Miss Talbot’s tea shop this morning, looked lonesome, smiled at them. They were not at all difficult to bring ‘round my finger,” he boasted. “A little sympathy with the hardship of having one’s house painted, a vast interest in whether the shade chosen is jonquil or cream.”

  “You actually went to their house to see?”

  “No, we went for a decent cup of tea. We agreed that while poor Miss Talbot tries, she does not quite succeed in brewing a really first rate cup of tea. While we were there, I was shown the paint job.”

  “You are unconsci
onable.”

  “I did not lead the ladies on to expect an offer of marriage,” he said with a lowering brow. “I shall quiz them about Ford’s servants and guests this evening. Are the servants a part of Kirby’s smuggling ring? If not, then the smugglers must wonder at leaving the wagon at Everton’s place.”

  “They won’t know any more about the guests and servants than Mrs. Ladd. The house had been standing empty for months before Ford hired it. The barn out back is exactly the sort of place the Gentlemen would use for storage of silk. They couldn’t leave it in a wet ditch, as they do a brandy barrel.”

  “Yes, but the house is occupied now,” he pointed out.

  “That only means Ford is given a little money for turning a blind eye to the silk cases hidden under the hay. Folks hereabouts don’t consider smuggling a crime. Papa gets his brandy free for letting the Gentlemen use his bay.” She stopped a moment, thinking of her father, no longer able to enjoy his brandy. That was one perquisite Felix was enjoying already. “No, just finding the silk in the barn would mean nothing. If we don’t find the forged money there, we are no farther ahead. It is Ford’s being on close terms with Fairmont that is more meaningful.”

  Upon hearing all this, Ravencroft was sorry he had consigned himself to dinner with the Harpers. “Perhaps I could cancel that dinner.”

  “Certainly not! Miss Harper will have had her servants running their feet off preparing something special for you. You will be served her homemade blackberry cordial and dine on her famous ragout, which she destroys by using turnips instead of potatoes and carrots. The sauce will be saturated with the horrid, bitter taste of turnip.” Ravencroft’s face pinched in disdain. “And you will eat it and like it!”

  “Yes, Nanny.”

  His speech called up a fleeting memory of her father, drooling and dying abovestairs. Caught off guard, she was momentarily overcome. She seized her lower lip between her teeth to stop its trembling.

  “Miss Bratty – Amy! What is the matter?” he asked in alarm. “I was only joking.” Seeing her sorrow, he rose and took her hands, wondering how he had offended her. Surely she didn’t imagine he was casting slurs on her age, or some demmed thing? He was just making a joke at her missish speech.