Scandalous Regency Secrets Collection

Coop smiled. “That’s answer enough. Did you pay this person?”

“Now, Coop, why would I do that? He’d only come back for more, having had success the first run out of the gate. No, I did what was prudent. I collected as much money as possible—became quite the social butterfly, although usually only confined to my hostess’s card room. I sold all but the furnishings you see around us, and in my bedchamber, all of which I put in the hands of a good friend who delivered them here. I sent a good portion of my wardrobe, my horses and equipages, the family silver and anything else portable to a cousin in Wiltshire, and prepared to meet my fate.”

“Your fate being the start of the rumors and the eventual arrival of the duns.”

“A rabid group,” Ned said, shuddering. “They found me sitting in the only chair remaining in my rented flat, and damn me for a tinker if they didn’t fall to fighting over it.”

Coop couldn’t help but laugh. “And now you’re living here.”

“Residing here temporarily. And with no dint of fellow residents unwilling to sit down at cards with me, which keeps my pockets full so that I have yet to dip into my, shall we say, capital. Clem is a good man. I keep him supplied with coppers, and he allows me to join him nights in his favorite pub. There’s one barmaid in particular I favor. The duns have fairly well forgotten me, if the ton will never forget. It’s not a splendid life, Coop, but it’s a good one, and I intend to quietly leave the city soon, winter with my cousin and then set off for adventure. I’m considering Spain, as well as Austria. What do you think?”

“I think you’d want to know who attempted to blackmail you.”

Ned shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“It might, if I were to tell you it was Ferdinand Lanisford.”

Ned fairly leaped to his feet, his fair cheeks gone scarlet. “Ferdie?” From there he progressed to mouthing a string of profanities so inventive, so exquisite in its detail, that at any other time Coop might have applauded.

“Do you want to know why?”

Ned sat down again. “I don’t think I have to ask. I also know now why you’re here. Ferdie’s out to bring us all down, all these years later. ‘A man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green.’ Francis Bacon said that. I’ve spent much of these past months catching up on my reading.”

“He’s come after all of us who were close enough to strike at, yes. Oliver for one, me for another. Johnnie died at Waterloo. Thad’s in Jamaica, I believe. I’ll soon know if he’s come after Geoff. Now I’ve added you to the list.”

“You forgot one. What about Davy?”

There was no other way but to say it. “Hanged himself around the same time you ended up here. Leaving behind a note about how it was the only way to keep anyone else from knowing.”

The two exchanged looks, and then Ned nodded his understanding. “Poor bastard. He didn’t even want to be there that night. What’s he holding over your head?”

“That’s the devil of it for me. I can’t really be sure. It could all be a bluff on Ferdie’s part. I just know, as you did, that it isn’t money he wants. It’s revenge. I only wish I’d realized that sooner.”

“You can’t be blamed for not thinking like me, Coop,” Ned said as he walked Coop to the door, an arm around his shoulders. “I’m a gambler, I think in odds. To me, odds were that whoever it was would come back a second time, and then a third. So I...prepared. You need to prepare, old friend, you and Oliver and Geoff.”

The two shook hands, a purse ending up in Ned’s.

“Excuse me,” a man said, brushing between them and into the room. “Eleven o’clock, Givens. You promised me a rematch.”

Coop looked at the well-dressed but faintly shabby about the hems man just then unfolding a card table that had been propped against one wall. “Isn’t—isn’t that...?”

“It certainly is. All sorts end up in the Fleet from time to time, him only until his next quarterly allowance, or so he says. There are several apartments here for those who can afford them, you understand, although I shamefully would declare mine to be one of the best. I’ve no end of whist partners eager to part with their money. I may leave here a very rich man.”

“You’ll be all right, won’t you, Ned,” Coop declared, stepping through the doorway.

“I always am. Now go take the bastard down. For Davy. For all of us. I can’t think of a better man for the job.”

Coop left the Fleet with a smile on his face, which he believed fairly ridiculous of him considering the circumstances, and stepped onto the street to see Darby standing there, lounging against a lamppost.

“I saw your curricle and sent mine on its way,” his friend told him as the two fell into step along the flagway, heading toward young Harry, who was waiting at the corner, growling at any passersby who might be looking too hard at the horses and equipage. “Well? What did you learn?”

“Ned’s not subsisting on stagnant water and stale crusts of bread, if that’s what you want to know. But you probably want to hear me tell you yes, he was being blackmailed. He was.”

“Not unsurprising. Especially since your friend Geoff...”

“Aquaintance. Not friend. They all were. Although I’m beginning to wish I’d gotten to know Ned better. I think he could have taught me a few things.”

“About hoarding aces?”

“About life actually. How has Ferdie come after Geoff?”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#u25973cb7-38b6-5eee-b0b0-28ad01a1b954)

COOP AND DANY drove away from Portman Square beneath a reasonably warm London sun, Harry and a wicker picnic basket behind the curricle seat.

Dany considered the picnic basket a good omen. She wished Harry to John O’Groats or some other place equally distant.

She was fast becoming A Very Bad Person.

Her fingertips itched to stroke Coop’s cheek, to run through his hair.

She probably shouldn’t imagine any plans beyond that. For now, she could barely look at him without her stomach twisting into knots.

He seemed perfectly in control, however. Almost as if last night hadn’t happened. She could only hope he was also hiding his true feelings.

“Excuse me?”

Coop had said something, and she hadn’t heard him.

Had the events of last night turned her suddenly stupid? Yes, that was entirely possible. Look at Mari, for goodness’ sake.

“I said, I was surprised to have you meet me in the foyer, ready to leave. I was convinced your sister would have had a few questions for me.”

Dany brought up a mental picture of Mari as she’d last seen her, weeping over her hot chocolate while holding up a mirror to her red, splotchy face, her usually beautiful dark hair hanging in greasy strands, wet from two washings yet still clearly clinging to the chicken fat.

She couldn’t resist.

“I believe she plans to confine herself to her chambers for the next several days. A slight mishap with foodstuffs.”

She felt him looking at her and hoped she appeared suitably solemn.

“Foodstuffs? I don’t want to know anything more about this, do I?” he asked.

“I don’t think so, no. Suffice it to say, although I’m confident she’ll be fine, she told me she doesn’t care where I go, what I do, nor whom I do it with, as long as I don’t say, ‘I told you so,’ one more time. You and I, Cooper Townsend, are free as birds.”

Coop reached over and squeezed her hand. “I don’t know that I’ll ever be free again. And before you fly up into the boughs, little bird, I’m deliriously happy about that.”

“Oh.” Dany took in a breath, not deep, because even shallow breaths seemed suddenly difficult with her chest feeling as tight as it did. “We rather made fools of ourselves last night, didn’t we?”