“She had to leave town in the middle of the season. Her mother fell ill, I believe it was.”
“Our mother was fine. It was our finances that suffered a near-fatal affliction. And if you haven’t seen Sally since her engagement, she doesn’t smile much anymore. I think I miss her smiles most of all. I told her tonight. The marriage, the title, the prospect of never being poor again? They’re simply not worth another day of Ferdie and his curious predilections. That’s why I’m here tonight while he’s on the town, to collect my severance upon departing his employ. You’re standing on it, my lord, by the way—my severance. Sally and I take ship on the morning tide, for Boston, and the home of our mother’s sister. There, that’s honest for you, gentlemen. Since you say you already have the chapbook, why are you here?”
Coop looked down at his feet, then pushed the chair away and lifted the small rug. There was a thick iron ring cut into the floor, and the wood was carefully cut on four sides. “A trapdoor? Where does it lead?”
“Nowhere. It’s more of a secret compartment. Open it. Oh, and if you’d be so kind as to turn the black metal box over to me, I’ll be on my way. Time and tide wait for no man, you know.”
“Chaucer,” Gabe said. “You are an educated man. You and your sister should land on your feet.”
Coop had checked the contents of the box, and then handed it to Bruxton. “I believe they’ll be reasonably well cushioned until our new friend here finds employment. My quick guess is ten thousand pounds.”
“More than twelve actually. I counted it last time I was fortunate enough to be left alone in here. My aunt has already secured a position for me in a school named Harvard. You may have heard of it? I’ll be instructing students in classical literature. And now I’m off. I hope you find what you’re looking for.”
“I think we just have, yes, thank you. And thank your sister, for it’s only because of her that you aren’t leaving this room with two blackened eyes. Gabe?” Coop held up a nearly inch-thick stack of letters tied with a black bow. “A lesser man might even cry out, Eureka!”
“Archimedes,” Bruxton called over his shoulder, and then he was gone.
Gabe joined Coop behind the desk. “Is there anything else in there?”
“There is more, yes. But we’ve got what we came for, as did Bruxton. I don’t know that I feel justified delving any deeper.”
“Really? Well, let me tell you, friend-straight-and-narrow, that’s why you need the rest of us. Move aside, and let me do the delving.”
“All right, but be quick about it. I don’t trust that dragon at the door to not have sent off a note to his employer, alerting him to our presence.”
“True. Ah, here we go. I believe I’ll just take these interesting bits, and we can look at them more carefully later. Are you ready?”
Coop rolled his eyes as Gabe stuck several sheaves of paper into his waistcoat. “Not quite, no. I thought we’d have someone come stoke the fire and share some of Ferdie’s brandy while we have a pleasant coze—of course I’m ready. And for the love of all that’s holy, wipe that grin from your face. We’re here in service of the king, remember?”
“The king who’s locked up in the castle, convinced he can fly? Yes, yes. We needs must show all gravitas.”
“Rigby said you’d settled yourself, perhaps even become domesticated.”
“So much for Rigby’s powers of observation. Thea would never let me settle.”
Taking one last look about the room, Coop picked up one of the less revolting statuettes and opened the door to the hallway.
The majordomo rushed to meet them, wringing his hands.
“Sirs! That’s one of his lordship’s most favored pieces.”
“I’m certain it is, my good man,” Coop told him as he brushed past. “Unfortunately for your employer, it is also the property of the Crown, having quite recently resided in its own secure case in the Tower. Please inform his lordship that he is to make himself available tomorrow at ten of the clock, when another colleague of mine will arrive to discuss the matter further. Good evening to you. George—our hats and gloves, if you please.”
The young footman hastened to assist the gentlemen, and in another minute they were on the flagway, clear of the mansion, and increasing their pace until they exited the square and were safely ensconced in the back of yet another hackney.
“What the devil am I supposed to do with this monstrosity?” Coop asked his friend, who was sitting at his ease on the cracked leather seat, chuckling in amusement.
Gabe took the figure and leaned forward, to wave it in the driver’s face. “Hey—you up there. How would you like this for your mantel?”
“Don’t got me no mantel, but it’d fetch me a right snootful in m’tavern, Oi wager.”
Gabe handed it over and sat back once more. “There, another problem solved. Whatever would you do without us? Although I must say, your actions tonight bordered on genius. Where to now?”
“Back to the Pulteney, to retrieve your coach, and then I’ll follow you to the duchess, where I’ll gather up Dany and take her back to her sister.”
“Do you think that’s wise?”
“I don’t see why not.”
Coop believed he could actually feel Gabe’s smile in the dark inside the hackney. “No, of course you wouldn’t. But you’ve forgotten something, Romeo. We’re meeting Rigby and Darby back at the hotel.”
“Damn.” Coop felt ten times the fool. How could he have forgotten that? But he had news for Dany, and she’d be overjoyed to see her sister’s letters. Really overjoyed. Even grateful. “Gabe, I’m turning into a very bad man.”
“Yes, that happens when a man tumbles into love,” his friend said matter-of-factly. “We also at times act like fools, and make rare cakes of ourselves. I’m saying this, you understand, as a man who rode to London in the back of a wagon filled with birdcages, just so I could be near Thea.”
“Why was your fiancée riding with what I will assume were your uncle’s parrots?”
“I didn’t say we men are the only ones who make cakes of ourselves when we tumble into love, did I? But that’s another reason why it might be best if you allowed Miss Foster to remain where she is, surrounded by women who will be more than happy to— You know, Coop, you may be right. Perhaps you should escort her back to the countess.”
“My mother was still there when you left?”
“She was. Also prepared to stay the night. And my aunt Vivien, of course.”
“And Rigby’s Clarice?”
“And my Thea,” Gabe added, chuckling. “They were all in the drawing room, having a lovely chat, when I left. Although perhaps escaped might be a better choice of word.”
Coop thought about the situation, thought about his mother, the duchess, Clarice. “I have to get her out of there.”
“A true den of female iniquity, I agree. Complete with whispers and feminine giggles and, for the matrons, a decanter of gin employed to stiffen their cups of Bohea. But first, the Pulteney. If what I saw when I quickly looked at the papers I pilfered from Ferdie’s hidey-hole contain what I believe they do, I think the last of your problems may just have been solved and you can return to your new estate, to grow turnips.”
Coop’s head turned so quickly he should have been in danger of snapping his neck. “Did you say turnips?”
“Yes. Turnips. I was given a quick summary of the grand climax to The Chronicles