Sleepless in Southampton by Chasity Bowlin
Chapter Twenty-Six
Over a pot of tea and a plate of roast duck with cheese and bread, Henry listened as Sophie told as much of the sordid tale as possible to Miss Darrow and Lord Highcliff. The indolent rogue he’d witnessed at parties and balls in London was a far cry from the watchful man who sat with them at that table. Henry had to wonder how much of the Highcliff he had observed was simply a facade and how much was genuine.
“Did you know that Mr. Carlton was my father, Effie?” Sophie asked softly.
Pulling his attention from Lord Highcliff, Henry watched the exchange, noting Sophie’s sadness and Effie’s regret.
“I had considered it a strong possibility. But he never said, and I was given to believe that asking would be unwelcome,” Effie replied. “I was more concerned that he continue to provide for you than that he confirm my suspicions. Perhaps that was wrong of me.”
“No,” Sophie said. “It wasn’t. If you didn’t offer these men the promise of discretion about their indiscretions, who knows were girls like me would wind up?”
Effie huffed out a sigh. “Precisely. You have always been remarkably insightful about how things work, Sophie. I am just sorry that so many things have gone wrong for you. It’s my fault. I should never have let you go when I did.”
“I think you do her a disservice, Miss Darrow. Sophie—forgive me, Miss Upchurch,” Henry corrected, “has done remarkably well in the face of significant obstacles. Not the least of which was my own family, taken in by Mr. Carlton. Frankly, the strange confluence of events could not have been predicted by anyone.”
“The puppy is right,” Highcliff said. “Poisoners posing as doctors, fortune hunters, social climbers, framers and likely blackmailers, too.”
“Who has been blackmailed?” Sophie asked. “And don’t call him puppy. It’s quite rude.”
Henry grinned. “It’s all right, Miss Upchurch. When one is the age Lord Highcliff is, all younger men are referred to as puppies.”
Miss Darrow choked on her tea. Highcliff frowned. Sophie offered up a sunny smile and Henry, for the first time since that morning, started to feel as if things were turning around. They had allies. They had other people to help them figure out what was happening and to get the necessary assistance for Philippa and put a stop to Blake’s plans.
“The way I see it, we have a multifaceted issue,” Highcliff began. “We need to find this woman who was married to Blake first, when he was calling himself Alberts so that he may be arrested for his crimes. We need to get a physician for your cousin who can determine what sort of illness she is facing and whether or not this man and his quackery have done her lasting harm. We need to get Miss Upchurch to safety… and we need to get the two of you wed as you have clearly been quite compromised.”
“With all due respect,” Henry stated, “that is why we were heading to London. We needed to obtain a special license if possible and marry at once. But not entirely because of Sophie’s reputation or even because of Dr. Blake. Sophie and I wish to be married. We’re very much in love.”
“You’re practically strangers,” Highcliff protested.
“But they aren’t,” Effie said softly. “I saw this with Willa. I saw it with Lilly. I saw it with Calliope. Sometimes, when something is right, it doesn’t take very long to see it or to embrace it. I wish you both every happiness.”
“Excuse us for a moment,” Highcliff said. He rose, grasping Effie’s elbow and taking her with him. They retreated to a corner of the room where they proceeded to speak in hushed but obviously heated whispers.
“Does she know?” Henry asked.
“Know what?” Sophie asked.
“Does she know that he’s hopelessly in love with her?” Henry shook his head. “No woman can make a man that angry unless he’s well and truly sunk.”
Sophie settled back against the banquette, close enough that beneath the tables their thighs touched. “I have a better question. Do you think he knows?”
“That she’s in love with him?” Henry asked.
Sophie laughed. “No. That he’s in love with her. I somehow doubt that Lord Highcliff allows himself much time for soul searching.”
A few moments later, Highcliff and Miss Darrow returned to the table. Highcliff began speaking decisively. “Miss Darrow and Miss Upchurch will return to London. Normally I’d suggest staying until tomorrow and traveling in the light, but time is of the essence so you’ll leave within the hour. The moon is full, and should afford you enough light to travel safely. You will use my carriage and I will secure a mount for myself. They will enlist the aid of Lord Deveril and Viscount Seaburn to obtain a special license and to locate Dr. Alberts’ former wife, respectively. While they are doing that, you, Marchwood, will return to Southampton and keep watch over your cousin and track the good doctor’s whereabouts. I will head to Bath. I have an acquaintance there, a man who is a very skilled physician, Dr. Nicholas Warner. I shall see if I cannot entice him to Southampton to see to Lady Philippa. Are there any other outstanding issues that have yet to be addressed?”
“I think that should do,” Henry agreed. Yes, indeed. The insouciant Highcliff he’d seen in London had been naught but an act. The man before him was military and damned good at it.
*
His ears hadperked up at the mention of the doctor and Southampton. He’d been on his way to Salisbury on behalf of Miss Ruby. He was her debt collector, after all, and the doctor in question was her debtor. And the people gathered there posed a threat to the repayment of that debt.
Considering his options, he sized up the men in the group, thinking they’d be the biggest threat. Still, he was only one man and they were splitting into three. He’d need to hire out to get the job done. They all knew the truth about Alberts or Blake or whatever he was calling himself. If he went to prison, Miss Ruby would never see a sovereign and he was in deep. Which meant they all had to be eliminated.
Leaving the taproom, he made his way outside to the stables. There was always a game of chance or two happening out there. Men who’d lost their last guinea could often be persuaded to do just about anything.
“If it ain’t the Hammer himself,” one man said as he approached the group.
Taking them in, he smiled, revealing two gold incisors and a mouth full of large and abnormally sharp teeth. He knew several in that clutch of gamesters and they were all prime to do what was needed.
“Aye, boys. I got work,” he said. “Who’s a taker?”
One man grinned and rubbed a grubby hand over his chest. “Does it involve them two birds what went in earlier? One’s a bit long in the tooth, but with a face like hers, don’t matter too much, do it?”
“They’re yours, Fred. Heading for London within the hour. You get on up the road and lay a trap. If you follow the brook, you should be able to get to the bridge before they do,” he offered.
The man called Fred rose with a grin and held out his hand. The Hammer reached into his pocket and pulled out a coin. “Do it right, end ’em proper, and there’ll be more than that to come your way.”
Obtaining the services of one more man to follow the pup back to Southampton, he decided to follow the other gent himself. He was the biggest threat, after all, and it ought to be handled right.
