Chapter Sixteen

“I offer my most humble apologies for my earlier indifference, miss.” Greeting them as they entered the Clifford Street town house, Penry took up Jewel’s hand. “Your presence here can only mean you’ve agreed to help our cause. Whether that assistance is in your continued charade as my brother’s betrothed or as a member of our small family—I will be your faithful champion. Please tell me that I have been forgiven.”

“Your loyalty to your brother is commendable, even if overzealous, and you are forgiven without reservation. I’ve never had an older brother before. I hear it can be amusing.” Smiling wickedly, she tossed her shawl aside and poured a cup of tea from the still steaming pot of a tea service.

“That’s one word for it.” Nudging his brother with his foot, Oliver winked at her. The house on Clifford Street that was to be their home for the next few days not only smelled better than Canary Court, it offered enough room for everyone to have their own seat and own bed.

“Thank you,” Penry said, brushing away Oliver’s foot. “So, this is a love match, is it?”

“I never said it wasn’t.” Jewel stifled a smile as she patted Penry’s hand.

“Are you two pulling one over on me? You are going to marry?”

“Maybe we’ll invite you.” Willing to let his brother twist in the wind waiting for an answer, Oliver sipped his tea. Keeping the smile from his face was the hardest part, but Penry deserved a little discomfort. “You’ll have to watch for the notice in the Times.”

“I call foul, brother.” Penry turned to him in open-mouthed outrage. “I deserve to know. No, I demand to know. Will you or won’t you be married?”

“Shall we put him out of his misery?” Walking over to stand behind Jewel’s chair, Oliver wished he had a token of value to gift to her to mark the occasion. The only thing he carried that was worth more than his waistcoat was his father’s watch. He fished it out of his pocket and checked the time.

The timepiece had probably been won in one of the many games of chance his father had indulged in. The old man had likely thought no more of it than any of the paper scrap markers hidden about Winchcombe Abbey. Oliver wasn’t even sure why he carried it; it held no value in sentiment. Any reminder of his father also reminded him of the scar that marred his face. Taking one last look at the intricately made piece, he slipped it back in his pocket. Jewel deserved her own token, something made just for her.

“I swear I shall expire from suspense if neither of you speaks up.” Dropping to one knee and folding his hands in supplication, Penry begged. “Give me an answer, please, I beg you.”

“Is that how you proposed to Mary Bartleby?” Jewel asked. “A woman does love to see a man on his knees.”

“Tell him, Jewel. He won’t believe it if it comes from me.” Walking to his brother’s side, Oliver placed a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s true and it’s real.”

Oliver’s heart warmed at her beaming smile as she confirmed the news.

“Now that we’ve put you out of your misery, we can get back to the much less pleasurable matter of outwitting Dunwoody.” As much as he’d rather take a few days to take Jewel around London so they might discover the great Town together, the clock was ticking away the minutes before his hearing. “I sent over a note earlier. I’m going to call on him tonight to have a little talk.”

“Talk? You’re just going to talk to him?” Jewel looked at him suspiciously.

“Trust me. When I was sitting at the Pot and Pineapple watching what I thought was a proposal, I started thinking about how I’d let you slip away.”

“I’d rather forget that ugly incident.”

“Soon enough. Anyway, I realized how many things I let slip away because I was waiting on the post and afraid to leave the house. Before I met you, my life wasn’t only colorless, it was bland and cautious. It’s time I stopped waiting for things to happen. I need to challenge myself to force change. As unconventional as your methods are, you’re not afraid to get out there and make things happen. You’re not afraid of anything.”

“Snakes,” she replied. “I’m afraid of snakes.”

“Me too,” Penry chimed in.

“Hmm.” He arched an eyebrow at his brother’s admission. “I was thinking my life couldn’t possibly get any worse. I’m losing my heritage and my freedom despite being tediously careful all those years. And then an idea popped into my head, a mad idea that no reasonable person would ever attempt, except you, Jewel.”

“Is that a compliment? I can’t tell.” Penry looked back and forth between him and Jewel. “What is this mad plan?”

“I’m going to speak with Dunwoody, but I’m bringing someone with me.”

“Me?” Penry ventured.

“Jules and Egbert?” Jewel guessed.

“A certain Scottish Maiden. Dobbs has her waiting in a wagon outside.” He waited for their shocked faces to ease into confusion before he explained. “Remember, I have the diamond, the letters, and the witness. I think a gift of the fate of traitors against the Crown will make an excellent addition to our discussion.”

…

“His lordship will see you now.” Dunwoody’s footman motioned for Oliver to rise and follow him down the hall. Drawing a deep breath, Oliver entered the office of the man who thought he held all the cards. The room was as large and pretentious as the man himself.

“Lord Dunwoody,” Oliver said, bowing. “You’ve enjoyed a pleasant day, I trust.”

“Most pleasant, that’s why it shouldn’t be sullied with business. My man tells me you’ve brought a large crate with you today. A bit of bribery, Lord Winchcombe? I’m sure I don’t know what you think you’ll get out of me. A fact that makes me curious as to your insistence on being here today.”

“A gift all the way from Scotland. Something my father commissioned, but I believe it was meant for you.” It occurred to Oliver as he spoke that the Scottish Maiden may not have been the result of his father’s drunken whim after all. Ordering the death machine might be the only favor his father had ever done for him.

“Thomas,” Dunwoody went to the door and bellowed for a footman. “Have some of the staff open the crate and bring the contents to me here.” The older man took his place behind his desk and motioned for Oliver to sit. A snap of his fingers produced a maid with a tray holding a decanter of sherry and two glasses. After the wine was poured, she backed out of the room.

“Shall we raise the glass to my good fortune?” Knowing Dunwoody wanted to take command of the meeting from start to finish, Oliver raised his glass and waited for the man to agree or demure. He intended to keep the old swindler on his toes and off his game the entire time.

“Good fortune, you say?” Dunwoody reached for his glass but did not raise it. “If you see your current predicament as good tidings, I’d hate to see what poor luck looks like.”

“Haven’t you heard? Odd, I thought the news would travel faster. Endorsements to my character have been flooding my solicitor’s office these past two days. It seems everyone I’ve ever corresponded with is eager to testify to my business acumen and natural ability with figures. I’ve a nose for good business.” It was all lies, but Dunwoody didn’t know that.

“A man with two noses,” Dunwoody said, referring to Oliver’s scar, “should hope one of them is good for something.”

“I’ve also got the eye,” Oliver said, pointing to his cat’s eye, “for opportunity.” Refusing to rise to Dunwoody’s jab, he leaned in closer. “This eye,” he said, in his most menacing voice, “led me to the most amazing discovery just the other day.” He let his words settle on the desktop while Dunwoody absorbed them and tossed back his sherry.

“What would that be—another talking bird?”

“A talking rock.”

“And, pray tell, what did the rock have to say?” Looking nervous, Dunwoody glanced to the door as if he was preparing to escape.

“It said it was worth at least forty-five thousand pounds.” Smiling, Oliver poured himself another glass of sherry. “It was kind enough to tell me its name—Cheenee Keedalee. The funny way it rolls off the tongue, I may have to write a song about it. It even told me the name of its owner. You’ll never guess in a hundred years who it was.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You can’t come into my home acting the madman and expect me to take you seriously.”

“Who says I’m acting?” Oliver asked, refilling Dunwoody’s glass of sherry and pushing it across the desk. “You’re going to need that.”

“Are you threatening me? What is it, poison?”

“It came from your cellars, how would I know? But a man who plays with treason wouldn’t think twice about a little murder by poison.”

“Treason? Murder? You should pay more mind to the words that leave your mouth, Winchcombe. What does any of this have to do with me? I know nothing of this supposed diamond.”

“I never said it was a diamond.” The look on Dunwoody’s face told Oliver everything he needed to know. The man was guilty as sin and starting to crack. If Dunwoody didn’t murder him before he left the house, he was going to win this round with the second punch.

“My lord,” a footman’s voice preceded a knock at the office door.

“Get it in here,” Dunwoody roared back, jumping from his chair and walking to the middle of the room to direct his footmen. “What is it?”

“Dunno,” the footman answered. “But it’s heavy.”

“Put it down, right there,” Dunwoody said, pointing to a low sturdy table. Clearing away the vase of flowers atop the table, the footmen set the Scottish Maiden down with a thud. Hands on hips, Dunwoody stared at his unexpected gift silently, while the footmen quit the room.

“I thought a little reminder of the high stakes would suit the conversation. I’m sure His Majesty could use a diversion from the war, especially one that will help refill his coffers.” He still hadn’t gotten Dunwoody’s full confession. It seemed a demonstration of the Scottish Maiden’s efficiency was in order.

“Tell me what you came here to say and be done with it.” Dunwoody backed away from the Maiden, shaking his head.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” Walking to the machine, Oliver ran his hand over the smooth polished wood. “Let me show you how it works.” Taking a few stems from the flower vase, he laid them on the wooden bed, lowered the lunette to hold the blooms in place, and released the lever holding the blade in check. With swift precision, the blade fell with a loud thwack. Leaving the stems in place, Oliver gathered up the beheaded blooms in his fist.

“You’re bluffing. This is all bluster, because you have nothing.” Dunwoody spat out the words as he continued to back away from the machine.

“I will prevail and take my seat in the House of Lords without blemish to my name.” Oliver opened his fist and let the crushed petals rain down on Dunwoody’s desk. “I already have a witness to the false deed my father signed, and I’ve hired men to track down the other two, who will, with the threat of the gibbet looming nearby, mention your name. Your niece has agreed to be my wife, and my solicitor is at this moment petitioning your solicitor for the immediate release of her funds.”

“Ha,” Dunwoody snorted. “I’ll keep it in Chancery Court for decades. She’ll be an old woman before she sees a single piece of silver.”

“Hmm. You’re so predictable, Dunwoody. I have the Cheenee in safekeeping. Your father held a reception for the king in the winter of 1743. His Majesty misplaced his walking stick there and I’m guessing you found it. I’m sure you thought it clever to use the king’s jewel to finance a rebellion against him, but you forgot about my father.”

“How that drunken wastrel got so lucky at cards, I’ll never know.”

“That was the trick of it, he was actually a very good card player. People always underestimated a man in his cups.”

“He wasn’t supposed to—” Dunwoody stopped himself before he tossed down his second sherry. “I’ll say nothing more. You’re a clever lad despite your looks. You’ve got the diamond and the girl, what more are you looking for?”

“Everything. My unstained title, my wife’s inheritance, and…you know, with Penry getting Clifford Street I’ll be needing a place in town.” Looking around the room, Oliver smiled slyly. “This house.”

“What about this house?”

“I want it.”

“You are mad. Why the hell would I give you my house?” Dunwoody held out his hands and laughed nervously. “You’ve no claim to my house.”

“Because if you don’t sign it over to me, I’ll take the Cheenee diamond to the king and tell him where my father got it.”

“You’ve no proof. I’ll say your father stole it and your title will be stripped faster than the swallow flies.”

“No one, not even the king, thinks my father was clever enough to steal something so valuable. Besides, I have receipts.”

“I told that idiot not to keep anything in writing! He promised they were burned. He promised.”

“A good card player is also a good liar. He always hedged his bets.”

“Then he can play bounce with the devil for eternity. Admit it, you came here to bargain, boy. Either you don’t have all you say or you want a favor. Spit it out, I’m five minutes away from having you thrown out on your ear.”

“If you give no thought to your family, my betrothed has. Miss Latham wishes no harm to come to her cousins. That is what I bargain for. Either be thrown in Newgate with your title, property, and money forfeited to the Crown and your family left homeless, penniless, and unredeemable, or consider my offer.”

“They are ruined as soon as you leave this house.” Shaking with rage, Dunwoody gripped the edge of his desk until his knuckles went white.

“They don’t have to be. I’m giving you until eight o’clock tonight to make up your mind. You drop your complaint at the hearing, and I will forget to mention to the authorities that you were behind the false deed. Release Miss Latham’s funds as soon as the bank opens tomorrow morning and I do not inform the king of your Scottish connections to the Cheenee diamond. Sign this house over to me and arrange for your family to leave Town for the foreseeable future and I will give you the diamond to return to the King.”

“Return it?” Dunwoody barked out the words in anger. “It’s worth a fortune.”

“It’s for you to decide if it’s worth your neck or not. Those are my terms. If you fail to return the stone to its rightful owner before you leave town, I’ll have my solicitor turn over all documents and testimony to the prime minister.”

“Burn them, you dishonest cur. You’re no better than your father. Bring the paper here and burn it where I can see the ashes with my own eyes.”

“I don’t trust you, and that is not going to happen.”

“I don’t trust you, either.”

“Doesn’t matter, I hold all the cards.” Standing, Oliver smiled down at the older man. The fight was over. Dunwoody just didn’t know it yet. It was a heady, powerful feeling to bargain face-to-face. This was a matter that could never be hashed out through the post. No wonder his father had loved it; it was intoxicating.

“I can still ruin you, Winchcombe. A dozen people are willing to testify to your lunacy. After they speak out, I need only wait for every malcontent from your village to jump on the wagon with a complaint. They’ll swear you curdle milk. I can have them in town by tomorrow afternoon.”

“The one lesson my father taught me was to never show all your cards too soon. I have my own witnesses. I suggest you use the remainder of this evening to ponder the welfare of your wife and children.” Oliver stood and turned his back to Dunwoody, then took a step toward the office door. Counting on Dunwoody to call him back one last time, he reached for the door latch slowly.

“Winchcombe.” Dunwoody’s voice was flat but didn’t yet hold the tone of defeat that Oliver was looking for.

“Make it fast, Dunwoody.” Turning the latch, Oliver opened the door a few inches for a ready escape should he need one. “I have other calls to make.”

“No one will believe you.”

“The stain of a charge of high treason will linger much longer than a rumor of lunacy.” Oliver didn’t need anyone to believe him but Dunwoody. Making his way from the house and down the street to his waiting carriage, he resisted the urge to look back. Even Dunwoody wouldn’t stand in the middle of Hanover Square pointing a pistol at a man’s back. At least he hoped he wouldn’t.