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“Yes, yes, of course,” she said.
She watched Fawcett approach the vehicle.
Ripley put down the window. “Lady Olympia, come to visit Lady Pankridge,” he said.
“Lady Pankridge?” the gatekeeper said.
“Is this not her residence?” Ripley said.
“Of course it is,” Olympia said.
She leaned over him toward the gatekeeper. “You know me, Fawcett. I’ve come to see my aunt.”
“Yes, my lady. Certainly I know your ladyship. But we wasn’t looking to see your ladyship today.” He glanced at Ripley, and his perplexed expression deepened.
It didn’t take magical powers to understand what the gatekeeper was thinking. He knew this was Olympia’s wedding day. All the world knew. And here she was with a gentleman whom Fawcett would surely know wasn’t Ashmont. Villagers in Madagascar probably knew what Their Dis-Graces looked like—and would run if they saw them coming.
“I realize the visit is unexpected,” Olympia said.
“Her ladyship would be happy to see your ladyship at any time,” he said. “What I mean is, her ladyship isn’t at home.”
“But she was ill,” Olympia said.
“Don’t think so, my lady,” said Fawcett. “But what I do know is, she isn’t in.”
Don’t panic, Olympia told herself. “It’s no great matter,” she said. “I’ve come all this way. I’ll wait for her to return.”
“I beg your pardon, my lady,” the gatekeeper said. “I ought to have said her ladyship won’t be back today. Nor tomorrow nor the next day. I thought her ladyship had wrote to let you know why she wasn’t coming to the wedding.” He paused briefly and looked from her to Ripley, then quickly back to her, his face reddening. “All arranged weeks ago, and me told to expect them. Lord Clendower and his sister Lady Elspeth, that is. They came yesterday and took Lady Pankridge to Scotland with them. For the summer.”
Chapter 7
The Dukes of Ashmont and Blackwood and the boy Jonesy sat on their horses, staring at Battersea Bridge.
True to his street-gang principles, Jonesy hadn’t said a word, only gestured in the direction they were to go.
When they reached Battersea Bridge, he’d pointed at it, then held out his hand for the promised coin.
Though he now had it clutched in his grubby hand, he offered no sign of leaving his place on Blackwood’s horse. Where he’d made himself quite comfortable, by the way, and Blackwood considerably less so, for the boy stood in dire need of a bath. Or, possibly, a scraping and sanding, for the grime seemed well-aged, and the accompanying aroma more than ripe.
At their arrival, the usual crowd of urchins swept toward them, offering to hold the horses. They engaged in a lively exchange of insults with Jonesy before Ashmont started calling for information. The boys instantly didn’t know nuffink and disappeared into their lairs.
Others in the vicinity were more helpful. A number of people had noticed, an hour or two earlier, the arrival of a large man, who looked like the Duke of Ripley and who accompanied a disheveled woman wearing a white dress and spectacles and carrying what looked like a lot of lace and flowers.
The pair had been observed getting into one of the wherries, but no one knew more of its destination than “upriver.” Other watermen reported that the two who’d taken the bride and her companion had not yet returned.
“What the devil is Ripley about?” Ashmont said. “Upriver? Where’s he taking her?”
“He can’t be meaning to go far,” Blackwood said. “Putney? The White Lion?”
“By boat? Why a boat to travel that short distance? The hackney would’ve taken them to Putney, and more discreetly.”
“It doesn’t seem they were trying to elude pursuit,” Blackwood said. “They were not inconspicuous.”
“I don’t know what it means,” Jonesy said.
“Inconspicuous means you’d never notice them,” Blackwood said. “So what do you think not inconspicuous means?”
“You could tell ’em from a mile away,” the boy said. “On account of the wedding dress. And him.”
“Right.”
Blackwood heard the ragamuffin repeat inconspicuous under his breath several times.
“The trouble is, everybody was too busy staring at Olympia to pay attention to where they were going,” Ashmont said.
“You’d think Ripley would have left us a clue,” Blackwood said.
“If he did, I’m hanged if I can make it out,” Ashmont said. “Still, if he means to prove he’s cleverer than I, he’d better think again.”
“I doubt he thinks the first time,” Blackwood said.
“We’re going to have to follow by boat, curse him,” Ashmont said.
“And stop at every stopping place along the way, to find out if they disembarked there?” Blackwood said.
“Good point. He’ll be laughing himself sick, thinking of us following in that way.”
“We could stop at the Swan,” Blackwood said, nodding toward the inn that stood on the waterfront. “And wait for the watermen to come back. We could hire Jonesy to keep watch for us. He could nose about the neighborhood while he’s at it. Unless he has any pressing engagements. Well, Jonesy?”
“I dunno,” Jonesy said.
“Do you know what a pressing engagement is?” Blackwood said.
Jonesy nodded. “Like when ol’ Truller couldn’t meet us no more on account he had a pressin’ ’gagement with a lag ship.”
Thanks to time spent in low places, the two dukes knew that a lag ship was another word for a vessel used to transport convicts to Botany Bay, Pine Island, and other faraway lands.
“Would another crown clear your busy schedule?” Blackwood said.
“I fink so,” Jonesy said. He dismounted with surprising agility, gave the horse a fond pat, and walked away.
Twickenham
Ripley and Lady Olympia looked at each other.
“I should have known,” she said. “Aunt Delia wasn’t ill, merely indisposed to go to London to be annoyed by my family when she had a better offer from Lord Clendower and his sister. I’ll wager anything he’ll offer for her again, and this time she’ll say yes. He amuses her, and she likes his sister—and I must admit they’re more entertaining than a boring old wedding.”
“Yours was not boring, as it turns out,” Ripley said. This was, in fact, one of the least boring days he’d spent in a very long time. He wondered if he amused Lady Olympia, and if she would like his sister, once she got to know her.
“Too bad she’s missed the excitement,” Olympia said. “Meanwhile, so much for our ingenious plan.”
“Give me a moment,” he said. “I’ll think of something.”
“I’m not at all sure that’s a good idea,” she said. “Weren’t you the one who had the brilliant notion of placing false advertisements in other’s names? As a result, if I recall correctly, seventy-five bagpipe players descended upon Lord Eddingham’s house at midnight. On another occasion, ten wagonloads of elderly fish were delivered to Lord Adderley’s place. At yet another time, one hundred twenty-five redheaded persons turned up at dawn at Lady Igby’s.”
“That was a team effort,” he said.
“I’m amazed nobody pays you back in kind,” she said.
“No imagination,” he said. “I see you keep abreast of our activities.”
“One would have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to know of them,” she said. “For as long as I’ve been out in Society—and before that, I don’t doubt—you three have been making spectacles of yourselves.” She paused and gazed out of the window at the dog.
Ripley looked that way, too.
Cato had stood to survey his surroundings. The gatekeeper had retreated a distance from the lurcher, Ripley noticed.
“You did save the dog,” she said.
“Had I a choice?” he said. “My being the knight in shining armor and all.”
She bit her lip.
The lip he’d tasted. And it had
tasted good.
And it was pointless to go any further with that thought.
“I’ll confess, the prospect of playing a trick on Ashmont has its appeal,” she said. “Although I’d vastly prefer playing one on all three of you. A dose of your own medicine.”
“Early days yet,” he said. “You’ll get to it in time. Start small, with one of us. Then you can graduate. For now, the important thing is to get you to a reputable establishment before nightfall.” And not give the men of her family any excuse for challenging anybody to duels. “You can’t stay here or anywhere else on your own, that’s certain. Any other aunts?”
