“No one strikes up a pleasant conversation while holding a stick,” said Theodore. He’d been handy enough with his fists as a youth, though mostly while he had been a university student, taking part in semi-drunken matches for bets. He did not think these ruffians would be inclined to stick to the Queensbury Rules, however, and his shoulder was inclined to go numb at the very worst times these days. “Who sent you? Who paid you to come here?”
“I told you, toff, we have no beef with you,” the ringleader said, pressing the end of his club into Theodore’s chest and forcing him to take a step backwards. “My advice is, you had better scarper, and quick about it too. This ain’t any business that concerns you, old man.”
“I say, don’t you speak to my father-in-law like that! Don’t you know who he is? Don’t you know who I am?”
Theodore winced. Those kinds of statements never went down well with the lower orders.
And it didn’t make any impression on the main man, either. “Nah, I’ve not got a clue who you are, and I don’t give a fig, neither. Get lost, get out of here, or get your head stoved in, it’s all the same to us. You’re outnumbered. We’re armed. You’re posh toffs. We’re real men. You dance around with your fists. We come in low and kick you in the fundamentals. This ain’t gonna be pretty. I’m being reasonable, you know. Giving you a chance, like. But my patience is wearing out. This is your last warning. Go!” He added a few juicy curses and waved his club under Theodore’s nose. Robert inched to the side. When Mr Wiseman tried to follow Robert, he was stopped. The slight man grabbed his arms and made him yelp with surprise.
“Now look here,” Mr Wiseman protested, but his voice wobbled.
“This will not do! Robert, call for help! Call for a policeman! You, sir, unhand him this instant!” Theodore could not stand by. He had to act, at whatever cost. He was not acting illogically or irrationally. He knew full well that he risked his own safety and indeed his own life.
But some things were important, and this was one of them.
Theodore half-turned, and slammed his forearm down hard onto the arm of the slight man who was holding Mr Wiseman. The movement caught the ruffian off guard and he let go. “Run!” cried Theodore to Mr Wiseman. “Let us go!”
But Mr Wiseman was slow to move, and Robert was frozen to the ground in shock, and the four attackers merely laughed at their sitting prey as they closed in tight around them now.
“This is a warning to you, Mr Wiseman,” the head man said, pressing up uncomfortably close. He smelled strongly of something stale, almost burned, and dampness. “You are to leave things well alone. In fact, you might want to consider a whole different business. The art world is no longer for you. And just to drive that point home...”
Theodore tried to stop the attack, but he was shoved to one side as the club was raised up high and brought down upon Mr Wiseman with a sickening crack.
Twenty-one
Adelia hunted high and low throughout the house but she could not find Theodore anywhere. A maid told her that he had gone out with Lord Lassiter and that they had intended only to go for a stroll, but that Theodore had been frowning and Lord Lassiter was particularly stern and determined. “He walked very quickly, my lady,” the maid added. “That’s a sign.”
“What of?”
“Purpose, my lady. He’s got an idea.”
“Oh dear. That does not bode well at all.”
“Will there be anything else, my lady?”
Adelia was about to say no, thank you, and dismiss her, but the doorbell rang. Adelia waited in the shadows at the back of the entrance hall as the maid went to answer the door. She hoped it might be Grace, or perhaps Lady Mareham, or some other London friend, come to enliven a dull day. If it were none of those people, Adelia thought she could perhaps ask for a carriage to take her to pay a call on someone. She would not be walking anywhere in the rain.
But it was someone else entirely, and they asked to speak privately to Adelia herself. She remembered that the maid had told her that another lady had called for her before Mariana da Costa – this had to be the same person, returned.
The maid was awkwardly apologising and telling the caller that she was not entirely sure if Lady Calaway was At Home or not, so Adelia emerged from the gloom and announced that she was.
Octavia Dymchurch smiled with relief.
“Please,” said Adelia. “Come to the sitting room, and we’ll have refreshments. Shall we call for Lady Lassiter to join us?”
“Oh – no! Absolutely not. I mean, let us not disturb her. It is imperative that I speak to you alone. I called earlier but could not wait.”
How very intriguing, Adelia thought. “Very well. Do follow me.”
Once they were settled, though Mrs Dymchurch did not remove her hat or gloves, the conversation began. Or rather, it did not. Adelia made a polite comment about the dreadful weather and then sat back in silence, waiting for Mrs Dymchurch to speak.
Mrs Dymchurch seemed to be gathering her thoughts. “I called to let Lady Lassiter know that I should be very grateful to accept the invitation to her dinner tomorrow night,” she said at last, very slowly. “I was surprised to receive it, under the circumstances. Is she absolutely sure?”
“She is. It is a small and private affair. And she will be delighted to hear that you are coming,” Adelia said. “Yet you wanted to speak to me?”
“I did. I do. Ah, now it cannot have escaped your notice that I have become the object of some speculation and gossip.”
“I would not sully
