What were the chances he’d win the reward and have enough to pay a hotel bill?
About equal to the chances that he could resist temptation.
“I’ll be along later,” he agreed, against his better judgment. “I’m grateful for the hospitality but have a few people I need to see first.”
“We’re not interested in you anyway,” Phoebe said cheerfully. “We’re here to meet our new cousin.”
The women walked off, laughing. Thankfully, their driver was willing to take Gerard’s bags so he needn’t lug them to the hotel.
Lowell had spoiled him already.
At the Royal, Gerard sent a message to Rainford, then settled in a chair behind a newspaper to watch the lobby. One could tell a great deal about who was in town watching a place like this.
The Marquess of Rainford was dubbed the Ice King for good reason. With his pale hair, lack of bushy facial hair, and appearing sharper than a knife blade in one of his immaculate gray suits, Rainford entered the tavern.
Acting appropriately noble, they repeated their earlier performance, strolling into the tavern as if they were kings and taking a private table. White and his companions weren’t there yet to notice this performance, but Gerard relied on gossip.
A barmaid hurried over to take their order and to whisper, “They talked of visiting the Old Rooster tonight. The earl won a few pounds on the horses today, and he’s promised to introduce your lordship to Mr. White.”
Rainford slipped her folding money. “Excellent job, Ruby. Warn us if they head our way.”
“You play this game too well,” Gerard noted. “I expect you now know who owes what to whom by now.”
“Pretty much,” Rainford admitted. “The American is almost as bad at gambling as Craigmore, but White pays his debts. Craigmore doesn’t—because he makes promises like introducing me to an encroaching mushroom I have no intention of meeting.”
Gerard snickered at his friend’s word choice but stayed on topic. “Is there some danger White will frivol away his fortune? The lady should be made aware of that.”
The marquess eyed him skeptically. “You found her? She agrees to this charade?”
“Of course I found her. Keeping her in sight is the difficulty. She went haring off the instant she hit town. But yes, this is her idea,” Gerard admitted irritably. “Never tell her anything is impossible, or she’ll do her best to prove you wrong.”
Rainford sat back, stretching his lanky frame and grinning. “The imperturbable earl has been perturbed—by a woman. I must meet this formidable lass.”
“She imagines herself a master of disguise and is likely to turn up in trousers,” Gerard warned, irritated at his irritation. He’d worked hard to earn his implacable reputation.
The idiot medallion in his pocket chortled.
“You haven’t answered my question about the American.” Gerard shut out the chortles.
Rainford sipped the whisky the maid delivered. “It’s hard to answer. He’s not precisely a wastrel. And my sources say his income is enormous. But he’s not paying attention to his investments. Any downturn—”
Gerard grimaced. “Not what I want to hear. I’ll start dictating the settlement terms to my father’s solicitor, but we need to look for all possible alternatives. She’s counting on a monthly allowance to repair what Craigmore has damaged. If White’s fortune slips—”
“—she can’t marry another and she loses. Understood. What about the other sister?”
“She’s a Malcolm who wishes to hide in the country. There is almost certainly something wrong with her, but I’ve not gained their confidence. She said almost nothing over dinner, and Lady Iona was protective of her.”
“I’d like to meet them once this is over.”
Since the marquess came from a long line of Malcolm healers, Gerard assumed his interest was medical—not useful for Malcolm maladies. But if it served to distract his friend from the ducal duties looming, Gerard wouldn’t quibble.
“I’ve asked my cousin Phoebe if her country, card-sharp cousin might help us if we arrange a respectable soiree. That may be our last resort though. Do we head over to the Rooster this evening?”
“I’ll send over a couple of the men still intrigued by the reward. One is a viscount. That should raise White’s hopes that he’s being noticed. Let’s learn how good he is at cards first.” The marquess finished off his whisky just as White entered the tavern.
The American was still wearing a purple waistcoat over his paunch, although this one appeared to be heavily embroidered in gold, presumably to match his golden-brown tweed coat, which he wore unbuttoned. He scanned the room and found Gerard and Rainford immediately.
“Time to go.” Gerard returned his hat to his head. “I’ll be at Dare’s. Let me know if you need me.”
“Playing hard to get is losing its interest.” Rainford left coins on the table. “I want to settle this soon.”
“A few more days,” Gerard promised as they brushed past White and his entourage without acknowledging them. “They’ll be chomping at the bit.”
As they entered the lobby, the street doors opened to admit a slouching, slender man with receding dark hair. In a hazardous degree of impairment but dressed as a gentleman, he handed his hat and gloves to the doorman, who evidently recognized him.
“Uh oh,” Rainford murmured. “That’s Craigmore.”
The faux earl saw them before they could retreat to the stairs. “Rainford, well met! I may have a witness who knows where my daughters are, if your men are still interested in that reward.”
Behind him stood a short, robust lad wearing spectacles, a loose wool jacket several years out of date, and a trilby—over familiar dark curls.
Sixteen
“Baron Twaddle von Kitsch,” her stepfather drunkenly shouted, obliviously introducing Iona to the earl and his companion. “Student at the university. The baron says he has met the naughty pair.”
Hiding behind her spectacles, Iona bit back laughter and insouciantly swung her cane as she watched the reaction of the men in the lobby. Lord Ives looked as if he’d like to bite her head
