A Masquerade in the Moonlight - By Kasey Michaels Page 0,116
turned to look at Thomas, his skin deadly white, his sunny disposition in the face of his financial and social ruin now completely vanished. Then, without answering, he walked on, Wattle holding the umbrella over his quarry’s bent head.
“What was that all about, Tommie?” Dooley, who had been off collecting Balbus plates and coins for his children, asked as he came up to Thomas. “You already know your little Miss Balfour is out to make trouble for all five of ‘em. We’ve lost our contact at the War Ministry today, no thanks to her, and now Lord Chorley as well, I suppose, who was thick as thieves with the Prince of Wales. She’s making mischief, I agree, but why ask a question that might send the man thinking, and maybe deciding she might be the one bringing him down?”
“He’s not that smart, Paddy. None of them is, except Harewood and Laleham. Mappleton and Totton would be nothing without their assistants, who have probably done all their work for them anyway, and Chorley has been trading on his pleasing disposition all his life, not his brainpower,” Thomas said, tipping his hat forward so that rain poured from the brim. “I just wanted to see his lordship’s face when I asked the question, and measure his guilt. And now I know. Whatever it is The Club did, Marguerite isn’t out to ruin their reputations because of some imagined slight. She’s got a terrible secret she’s been brooding over, and I just have to wait until she trusts me enough to tell me what it is.”
“You said she loves you,” Paddy pointed out as they walked toward their hired hack. “How can she love you and not trust you?”
Thomas increased his pace as it began to thunder. “I haven’t told her what we’re about, Paddy, and I love her. Sometimes too much truth is not a good thing. But there’s no denying she’s put a spoke in our wheels. She’s moving fast now, probably so that none of them will have time to figure out that they’re being targeted and begin thinking about who is out to bring them to grief. With any luck, this all should be over within a matter of days.”
“I suppose I should be thanking her, for she’s not dragging her heels, is she?”
“Hardly, Paddy. Two of them are gone already, with three to go. While I won’t be seeing Harewood until the masquerade tonight, and as I don’t trust myself to see Marguerite just now, I believe you should go searching for our friend of the frayed cuffs. He’s been as busy as the devil in a high wind, and I think he might have some answers for us. You should probably begin with waiting for him to show at Harewood’s, for Sir Ralph might lead us to him the way Chorley did.”
“Harewood? Why him?”
“Totton’s done, as is Chorley, although I do believe he may have found genuine happiness with his dun. Mappleton is already on his way down, even if I’m not sure how Marguerite plans to do him in. That leaves only Harewood —and Laleham. Somehow I don’t think Marguerite will chance going after him until the others are out of the way. I wouldn’t.”
“Which leads us straight back to Harewood,” Dooley said as they reached the relative dryness of the hackney cab. “But why me, I’m asking you? Where are you off to this time.”
Thomas patted Dooley on the back. “I’ve got to go find myself a domino and a mask, remember? Now, are you going to help me? It’s for your country, remember.”
“My country? In a pig’s eye! It’s for you, and that little girl. Any help to our country will only be by chance, as I see it. But you’ve been right so far, boyo, so who am I to gainsay you? Let’s go split a bird and a bottle someplace dry and then get on with it. I’m beginning to miss my Bridget, and want to be shed of this damp island before she stops missing me.”
CHAPTER 16
Shallow men speak of the past; wise men of the present; and fools of the future.
— Madame du Deffand
Sir Ralph looked out through the drawn-back draperies to see the rain had stopped at last and a thin, watery sun was once more peeking down through the low-hanging clouds. He had driven Marguerite home from the Tower, consoling her as she wept soundlessly into her handkerchief at Sir Peregrine’s sad disgrace, hardly able to keep his