Chapter 28
Sebastian staggered back, the side of his face exploding in pain, his sight dimming as Round Hat seized him from behind.
“Easy there, yer lordship,” he growled, holding Sebastian steady as the first man sauntered up, a hint of a malicious smile lightening his even, sun-darkened features as he leaned in close.
“You’re to consider this a friendly warning,” said Green Coat, his accent—unlike his partner’s—that of a man of education. “What happened to Lady McInnis is none of your affair. You need to shut up and mind your own business. I trust I make myself clear?”
Swearing crudely, Sebastian threw his weight sideways and down, his coat ripping as he broke Round Hat’s hold and dropped into a low crouch. Yanking the flintlock from his pocket, he came up to step forward and shove the pistol’s twin barrels into Green Coat’s cheek hard enough to knock against his teeth.
The man froze.
“Smart,” said Sebastian, pulling back both hammers with audible clicks. “Now drop the sap or you’re a dead man. I said drop it, damn you.”
Sebastian heard the clattering thud of the sheathed lead hitting the pavement.
“And you—stay back,” he warned Round Hat as the big man took a lumbering step toward them. “In case you didn’t notice, this is a double-barreled pistol, which means I can put a bullet in your friend here’s brain and still have one left for you.”
Round Hat stopped.
“Good. Now, listen to me, gentlemen, and listen very carefully. Since you appear to enjoy playing the role of emissaries, I have a message for you to carry back to whatever bastard hired you. Tell him I don’t scare easily. And if you come at me again, I’ll kill you.” Still holding the pistol pointed at Green Coat’s face, his gaze flashing back and forth between the two men, Sebastian took a step back, then another. “That’s a promise.” He swiped his left fist at the blood he could feel running down the side of his face and swore again. “Now get out of here before I decide to kill you both on principle. You ripped my bloody coat.”
“So who do you think hired them?” asked Hero as she watched Sebastian, stripped down to his blood-splattered shirt and breeches, lean over the washbasin in his dressing room, the water trickling back into the porcelain bowl as he carefully rinsed his face. “McInnis? The Blackadders? Basil Rhodes?”
He lifted his head and reached for his towel. “Damned if I know. But if I had to guess, I’d put my money on Rhodes.”
Hero frowned as he dabbed carefully at the bruised, broken skin below his left eye. “That looks nasty.”
Sebastian shrugged. “It will heal.”
She muttered something under her breath and swung away, her hands cupping her elbows to hold them tight against her sides. “I keep thinking about Veronica Goodlakes deliberately sending us chasing after that chimney sweep, Hiram Dobbs, when she knew all about Laura’s conflict with Rhodes. What’s even worse is that she’s the one who set Rhodes against her ‘good friend’ Laura in the first place.”
“Charming woman,” said Sebastian.
Hero turned to face him again. “I’d have said they were an unlikely pair—Veronica and Rhodes. Except they obviously have far more in common than I realized.”
“They do indeed.” He tossed the towel aside. “And I wouldn’t put it past either one to do whatever they thought was necessary to get what they want.”
Thursday, 27 July
The next day, Sebastian returned from his early-morning ride in Hyde Park to find Charles, Lord Jarvis, awaiting him in the library.
The King’s powerful cousin stood beside the hearth, his hands clasped behind his back, his hat resting on a nearby table, his face stony.
“Good morning,” said Sebastian, tossing aside his riding crop and stripping off his gloves as he walked into the room after a brief consultation with his majordomo, Morey. “I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long. I believe Hero is—”
“I’m not here to see Hero or Simon,” snapped Jarvis.
“Oh?” A tray with a pitcher of ale and two tankards, courtesy of Morey, rested on a small table near the door, and Sebastian went to pour himself a drink. At various times in the past, both men had on more than one occasion threatened to kill the other. But for Hero’s sake they generally sought to maintain a facade of cold politeness. “May I offer you some ale?”
“Never mind that. What the devil do you think you’re about, accusing Basil Rhodes of murder? Basil Rhodes. My God, are you mad?”
Sebastian poured himself a tankard of ale, then set aside the pitcher. “Well, that was fast.” He raised the tankard to drink long and deeply. “Basil must have trotted over to complain to Daddy right after I saw him. And now Daddy’s sent you to harangue me, has he? What about the two men who jumped me last night? Did Daddy send them, too? Or was that Basil himself?”
“What two men?”
“I didn’t catch their names, and unfortunately they neglected to leave any calling cards beyond the imprint of their sap on my face.”
“So you naturally leapt to the conclusion that Rhodes had something to do with it? Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Are you so certain he didn’t? Basil Rhodes may play the amiable clown, but he’s a nasty piece of work, and you know it.”
“I know no such thing,” said Jarvis, his voice low and lethal. “Let me make something perfectly clear: This monarchy is getting ready to celebrate the one hundred and first anniversary of their accession to the British throne, and I will not have you stirring things up by painting one of the Regent’s bastards as some mad murderer.”
Sebastian took another slow sip of his ale. “Afraid the people of England might see what the Hanovers are really like, are you? You think they don’t know already?”
Something dangerous flashed in the Baron’s cold gray eyes. “You’ve been warned. If you think your marriage to my daughter will protect you, you’re wrong. Leave Basil Rhodes alone.” He strode toward the door, then paused to turn and say, “Heed my words,” before sweeping from the room.
“What was that about?” asked Hero, coming down the stairs as the front door closed behind her father.
Sebastian took another sip of his ale. “I could be wrong, but I think your father just threatened to kill me.”
“Over Basil Rhodes?”
“Mm-hmm.”
She went to stand by the windows overlooking the street, where one of Jarvis’s footmen was holding open his carriage door. “Interesting. He must have reason to suspect Rhodes actually did kill Laura and her daughter.”
Sebastian went to stand beside her as the footman closed the door and scrambled up onto his perch. The driver cracked his whip, and Jarvis’s carriage pulled away from the kerb with a rattle of ironclad wheels and the clatter of hooves. “I thought the same. And that makes me wonder why.”