The Earl And The Nightingale (Historical Regency Romance) Read online

  “I… sir… it’s just that … he said he had business with you. I….”

  “Do you know what he just did?”

  “No sir. I assumed ….”

  “You assumed? That miscreant just paid back his entire debt to me.”

  “I … ah … is that a bad thing, sir?”

  “A bad thing? Why, of course it is. How do you think I stay in business?”

  “Uh … well,” said Twiddle. “I assumed that, well, you are a moneylender….”

  “Precisely. And when people pay back the money I lent them, what does that make me?”

  “Wealthy?” said Twiddle with trepidation.

  “No! It makes me nothing. If I have no money lent, I become nothing. This damned fool just gave me the loan back, and so I am nothing. I have no further control over his finances.”

  “I see,” said Twiddle, although he did not in fact understand at all. “And so, I should have prevented him from paying it back.”

  “Now you are learning the business, Twiddle,” said Braithwaite in a wheedling tone. “I have no interest in getting my money back. You should know that. I am now powerless.”

  “I see,” said Twiddle. “So, what shall I do?”

  “There is only one thing you can do, Mr. Twiddle. You get my cutpurse, Peter Bagshot to tail this fool. Be sure he needs to borrow more money.”

  “I don’t understand. My understanding was that Bagshot was to enforce repayment, and this man just paid it back voluntarily.”

  “And?”

  “And what, sir?” asked Twiddle, utterly bewildered.

  “Just bring him here. I shall handle the rest of it!” said a furious Braithwaite. “And get a message to Kerr about this nonsense!”

  “Right away, sir,” said Twiddle.

  “He shan’t be happy to hear this.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Vast Sums and Cigars

  Jonathan returned home with a large weight off his shoulders. He had been totally unaware, of course, that getting involved with a disreputable moneylender such as Braithwaite was not a simple business transaction. Braithwaite was well-known in the community for extorting large sums in interest from his clients and forcing them to keep borrowing money at higher and higher interest rates. In fact, his business was based almost exclusively on trying to keep his clients paying interest rather than repaying their loans. And one of his most effective measures was having his enforcer, the notorious Peter Bagshot, to ensure it.

  Jonathan called on Garance later in the day, at her apartment in St. Martin-in-the-fields. As soon as she saw him, she ran to him, embracing him.

  “Jonathan, I must tell you that I am very glad to see you today. You have given me the most exciting adventure of my life. The thrill, the danger, the wonders of your abilities, all these have given me a new lease on life! In truth, I confess, singing for these fawning admirers was a very exciting adventure, and I was so glad to be able to contribute to your … may I call it ‘redemption’? Is this the correct word?”

  “Well, I am not at all sure,” said Jonathan, laughing happily at her kindness. “I am certainly very glad to have your help, I must say, though,” he said, pulling her close to him. And then, he looked around the room with a glint in his eye. “I note we have privacy,” he added, smiling warmly. “I hope I am not putting you in an uncomfortable position.”

  Garance smiled at Jonathan. “Uncomfortable?” she said, laughing. “Of course not! This is precisely what I had hoped for!” He was particularly handsome today. His lean body seemed refreshed, and his beautiful eyes danced in a way she had not seen in days. “You are quite correct, my young man, that we have some privacy. I sent Camille away, hoping for your visit. She is a wonderful maid and a kindly person, but she does not compare to your beauty and your charm.”

  Jonathan took Garance in his arms and embraced her passionately. “You are the light of my life, Garance!”

  “Thank you, my young gentleman,” she said jokingly. “Might I inquire as to the state of your finances?”

  “Why certainly, my angel,” said Jonathan. “I have repaid one of the vultures who had been circling my estate. I now must raise the remaining sum of ten thousand guineas to get that other debt repaid. That is my goal for today. My second greatest goal.”

  “And your first?” asked Garance kissing him on the cheek in the continental manner.

  “You are my greatest goal, Garance, of course,” he said, smiling. “Would you be interested in visiting one of those cribbage parlors again tonight?”

  “Of course!” she said, laughing. “I think our work is only half done there and I have great hopes for you, Jonathan.” With that, Garance went to a desk across the room and pulled out an envelope. “And, to that end, I have taken five thousand pounds that I hope you will use to recoup your losses. I feel if you have a large sum to start with, you will stand a greater chance of winning your fortune back. Will you accept this contribution to your cause?”

  “I see,” he said. “Well, I am not so sure.”

  “I give it willingly and with all the love in my heart,” she said.

  “In that case, I will accept your loan if need be,” he said hesitantly. “But I do not think I really need to borrow money from you, my love. In fact, the less money I have, the less chance I have of having it stolen.”

  “I shall bring it as an insurance,” she insisted.

  “Very well,” he said, smiling. “You win!” He could not talk her out of anything, and he loved her determination.

  Early in the evening of the same day, Jonathan and Garance were on their way to Crockford’s club with a large amount of money in his pocket, and an even larger sum in her handbag. While he deliberately dressed in the dress of the commoner so as not to attract attention, Garance wore her most beautiful red taffeta gown and had her hair prepared by Camille to look as enticing as possible. Even when Jonathan saw her, he was stunned.

  “Garance,” he said, gasping tenderly. “I really never knew you could look more beautiful than you do now. I am at a loss for words to express how ravishing you are.”

  And he was right. She was stunningly beautiful, and as she smiled in thanks, Jonathan nearly swooned with joy.

  “I dress to show my ardor,” she whispered to him. Shortly thereafter, she took him by the hand and guided him to the door. “Our goal tonight, my dearest Jonathan, is to finish off this gambling once and for all. It is getting quite late and I would feel better if we were to raise the money tonight and have it all behind us, so we can concentrate on just you and me. Are you in agreement?”

  “Indeed, I am,” he said kissing her on the cheek. “With your help and my concentration, we will raise fifteen thousand pounds to repay Mr. Kerr, that awful moneylender.”

  As they arrived, it was clear the games were in full swing. “I see these gamblers start early,” said Jonathan. He took out a cigar.

  “Are you going to smoke that frightful thing again?” asked Garance, in some mild frustration. “I must say, you look like an Indian with that thing, puffing from your mouth.”

  “Do not worry, my love, I shall not make it a habit.”

  “Or I shall have to learn to love an Indian,” she said smiling.

  “You are too brilliant, Garance,” he said laughing. “The crowd is already hard at it though in here, I see.”

  “So, it would appear,” replied Garance.

  There was indeed a great deal of activity around the tables, with many well-dressed men betting large amounts.

  “And so, my love,” said Jonathan. “Where shall we start?”

  “Let us try your hand at cribbage,” she said. “I see several people sitting and waiting for a partner to play. That one,” she noted, looking at a young man in particularly fine clothing. “He seems to be your mark. I think by now, we are able to know a sorry gambler when we see one.”

  “I think you may be right. You never cease to amaze me with your brilliance,” he said.

  “And that on
e seems to be the perfect fellow to contribute to your investment,” she said, laughing. As she did, Jonathan was once again reminded of the beauty of this woman he adored. The sound of her laughter sounded like thousands of tiny glass balls falling on a wooden floor and it gave him strength and joy, empowering him to go forth and multiply his fortune.

  “I beg your pardon, sir, but would you like a competitor?” asked Jonathan gallantly, blowing a cloud of smoke in the direction of a gentleman waiting to play cribbage. As he did, there was a noticeable change in the room. Off in the corner, unbeknownst to Jonathan, Peter Bagshot, the cutpurse employed by Mr. Braithwaite on behalf of Mr. Kerr, sat eyeing this transaction with evil intent.

  “Please, join me!” said the excited young man. “I confess, this is my first time to such an establishment like this. I have heard about them from my chums for years, but this is the first time I have dared to venture into the belly of the beast.”

  “Have you money to wager?” asked Jonathan.

  The young man leaned in to Jonathan and whispered. “I have twenty thousand pounds in my pockets. Do keep that quiet though. I hear there are disreputable characters who frequent this place.”

  “Your secret’s safe with me,” said Jonathan, who could scarcely believe his ears. “My name’s Johnny Anderson. May I ask your name, my good friend?” Jonathan took a long drag on his cigar and blew a mushroom cloud above his head.

  “How rude of me. Of course, Johnny,” said the young man. “I am Terence Oliver, heir to the Marquisate of Derby.”

  “Well, Mr. Oliver, I am honored to be in such august company,” said Jonathan, picking up the cards, cutting them, and handing them to the young man.

  Garance watched this young man carefully. Unlike Jonathan, she was wary of the possibility that he might be a plant, as they call them. Although he appeared to be a young fool who was eager to lose his money, experience in the world of gambling had taught her when something appears too good to be true, it generally was.

  She began to sing a song called “Just A-wearying For You,” which had been popular in the music halls that year. Garance was very good at knowing about these songs and their power, and as she began, Terence looked at her.

  “I say, you have a frightfully lovely voice! I have heard that song sung by the finest chanteuses in the music halls, and I daresay you are finer.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled at him and continued to sing as Jonathan began to play. He began by blowing a large cloud of smoke in Terence Oliver’s face and then focused his attention on the game and as luck dealt him a gift, he began dealing the cards. Frequently during the game, Terence closed his eyes and lost himself in Garance’s mellifluous tones. Jonathan was not sure if it was the singing or the fact that he kept blowing smoke in the young man’s eyes.

  Jonathan looked to Garance for confidence and although he too was strongly affected by the beauty of her voice, he was more used to it than was Terence Oliver, and so he was able to take advantage and win the first game, which they played for one thousand pounds.

  “I believe the win is mine!” said Jonathan. “Bad luck, old chap!”

  “Never mind that, my friend. I haven’t had so much fun in years. And this money is my father’s, in any case. It is better it goes to a worthy cause such as this sport, than to his usual silly pursuits.”

  “And what may they be?”

  “He is taken with fox hunting,” said Terence. “I loathe that sort of sport myself and believe strongly that the more of this money I get rid of the more foxes will be spared.” He rummaged in one of his pockets and gingerly pulled out one thousand pounds. Jonathan surreptitiously took the wad of bills and slipped it into the inner pocket of his jacket.

  “I say, Terence,” said Jonathan under his breath. “I’m only too glad to help you unload your burden, but do be aware of the characters on the fringes of this place. If you would look to your left, carefully and do not do it suddenly, you will see a swarthy, bearded fellow.”

  “Oh yes I do!” said the young man giggling foolishly. “How exciting! Do you suppose he is a cutpurse?”

  “I know not,” said Jonathan. “I merely point him out as an example of those fellows with no means of placing a bet, who come here in hopes of taking your money from you. He seems to be one such fellow.”

  “I say, how exciting!” said Oliver. “I daresay, these places’ days are numbered, too, so we must get our gaming in while we can.”

  “Why? What do you mean?”

  “I hear the Prince Regent has pledged that when he becomes King, he will outlaw these places.”

  “I am quite sure they are scofflaws as it is,” said Jonathan. “For they do not have the right to operate in this manner with impunity. The issue is not their legality, but the means to enforce any royal decree.”

  “I say, you are most frightfully up to date on all this. Are you a professional?” asked Terence Oliver.

  The sound of this accusation gave Jonathan a moment’s pause. He handed the cards to Terence with a nod. “I am no professional. I am merely a student at Oxford.”

  “Why, that is very exciting. You must be ever so clever!” he said. “I went to Harrow for a bit, but I’m afraid I’m not a bright one. They say I am the dimmest candle in the sconce. Or so my mother once told me. But you know, Jonathan, I do believe I am happier to be dim.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I am able to enjoy things others find repulsive, or frightening, or foolish. For me, as dim as I am, things are very jolly.”

  “I am glad you are so happy about all of this,” said Jonathan, looking at Garance.

  “Terence,” said Garance smiling at the young man. “Would you like to hear another song?”

  “I would indeed!” he said with enthusiasm.

  Garance began another beautiful song, this time a French song, and Terence smiled as though in a dream. With some cajoling, Jonathan managed to get him to deal the cards, and begin the game. Through clouds of cigar smoke, the game went slowly and although Jonathan won handily again, he became increasingly aware that they were becoming something of a spectacle.

  Garance watched admiringly as Jonathan won a double-or-nothing bet and pocketed two thousand pounds courtesy of the foppish young Terence.

  In order to create a further diversion for Jonathan, Garance rose. “I must go to powder my nose,” she said.

  “Will you please return and reward my losses with a song?” asked an enchanted young Terence.

  “Of course, I will, if you keep losing at this pace,” she said laughing, moving from the table.

  Across the room, Peter Bagshot saw Garance move as well, and although he knew his task was to find out how Jonathan was making the money to repay Mr. Kerr, he, like every other man in the room, was enchanted by Garance. Being the ruffian he was, given to following his baser instincts rather than any rules of civilized behavior, he saw something he wanted and, rather than try to charm her, he opted for the caveman’s approach.

  As he saw her pass by him, he guffawed, making her look him full in the face. This glance seemed to give him further reason to want to abduct her, for indeed that was the plot that was forming in his dull mind.

  She passed by him, and he decided to abduct her as soon as he had the chance. He honed all his senses, in preparation for this animal urge he could not control. All of his body was showing he had lost control of his emotions. His mouth was wide open, drool spilling from his thick lips, and his eyes leered lasciviously. A sneer was what passed for a pleasant look on his brutish face, and the anticipation of having this beauty for his own was immediately known to all who gazed on him.

  Fortunately, for the public peace and good governance, Crockford’s establishment was known to have many people there who could keep the peace by anticipating the lusty thoughts of louts like Bagshot. One of them, a huge bruising monster with a thatch of red hair on top of his massive head, was Theodore Dressler, known as The Enforcer. This man, as brutish and uncivilized as he seemed, h
ad an eagle eye and a sixth sense he had honed by years of preventing untoward things happening in the club, and keeping it out of the papers.

  For this was the secret to Crockford’s success. Young gentleman like Terence Oliver were able to lose large sums of money in relative safety. That is, they could bet it on Pharaoh or cribbage without fear that some thug would pinch it from them on their way to their carriage. And Teddy Dressler, The Enforcer, had met with singular success despite the animal urges of some of the poorer and coarser people who frequented the club.

  And so, as Bagshot readied his arms to spirit the beautiful Garance away, The Enforcer made his presence known to Bagshot.

  “Oy, mate! I got me eye on you!” he said to Bagshot, glaring his way. He pointed with two fingers to his eyes and then to Bagshot. “No funny business, or I’ll put you in a crate.”