Earl's Well That Ends Well (The Way to a Lord's Heart #5) - Jane Ashford Page 0,51

the truth of this showed in Tom’s face. “I’ll get rid of the bastard.”

One of the arriving workers called a greeting. They acknowledged it. “You must concentrate on helping the dancers,” Teresa said. “I think we’re coming close there.”

Tom hesitated. He looked torn.

“I can manage my own affairs.” Teresa rose.

More people were entering. There could be no more private conversation, and Teresa found this a relief. She went to her customary place and put on her apron. She would paint, and she would think, and some plan would come to her. Because it had to.

Thus it was that on her way home that day, Teresa stopped in at the pub at the far end of her street. She had never been inside, but today she ventured through the door and stood blinking in the dimness after the sunshine outside. She was met by a sudden silence from the scatter of patrons. “Mr. Rigby,” she said to the owner. “May I speak to you for a moment?”

“Certainly, ma’am.” The retired prizefighter led her to the far end of the bar, out of earshot of his customers, who resumed their low conversations.

This scarred man had been most helpful in the matter of Dilch. Teresa knew his fearsome appearance covered a fierce sense of justice. “I wondered if you knew where I might procure a pistol?” she asked him.

This earned her a long look. “Beg pardon, but why would you be wanting such a thing, ma’am?”

“As a precaution, Mr. Rigby.”

“If somebody’s bothering—”

“A precaution only,” Teresa interrupted.

“And would you know how to use a pistol, ma’am?”

“Yes. Quite well. It…amused a gentleman of my acquaintance to teach me.”

“I see.”

The look in his eyes told her that he probably did, more than she might wish.

“Well then, yes, ma’am, I expect I do know.”

Nine

The wedding of Miss Ada Grandison to Peter Rathbone, Duke of Compton, took place on a glorious May morning at St. George’s Church in Hanover Square. The bride’s family had done their utmost to make it a glittering occasion, and the church was crowded with their friends and the cream of the haut ton.

The young duke, who had no close family left, had asked Arthur to stand up with him at the altar, and Arthur was touched and pleased to do so. The bride looked lovely in a pale-blue gown and flowered bonnet. The couple spoke their vows in clear, confident voices and beamed with happiness when they greeted the waiting crowd after signing the register.

The wedding breakfast at the Grandison house overflowed with more guests than the church could hold. Arthur found the crowd frustrating because he knew Señora Alvarez was in attendance, and he very much wanted to find her. He’d seen less of her in recent days as she had no project at the theater workshop. He didn’t want to think that she was avoiding him, but he feared that in fact she was.

He was searching for her in the sea of faces when Compton found him. “I wanted to thank you again,” said the young duke. “You made all this possible.” He gestured at the celebration.

“An exaggeration,” replied Arthur. “As I have said before. You won your happiness by your own efforts.”

“I’d have had no chance without your—”

Arthur stopped him with a gesture. “You have thanked me enough, Peter. Too much. Let this be the last time. Look, your wife is beckoning.”

The smile that broke over the younger man’s face illuminated his somewhat bony features. “My wife.” He moved away like a man in a happy dream.

Seeing an acquaintance nearby, Arthur went to join him.

“Has your new great-nephew or great-niece been born?” the man asked.

“She, or he, remains imminent according to the latest letter.”

His companion nodded. “Say, do you know some foreign chap, name of Cerda? I was at Manton’s the other day. This fellow seemingly heard me mention your name, and he came slap up to me and introduced himself. Bold as brass. Said he’s a good friend of yours.”

“He is not,” answered Arthur. It was time to administer the setdown this fellow deserved, he decided.

The other nodded again. “Seemed like an encroaching mushroom to me.”

“Precisely.”

“I thought so. Town seems to be full of them. I’ll be glad to be back in the North.”

“You are leaving London?”

“In a few days.”

The season was nearly over. He would be expected to depart as well. Arthur excused himself and went hunting for Señora Alvarez.

He slipped through the press of people, nodding to greetings on all sides. He had nearly made it to