Page 26 of The Rum and The Fox

Chapter 12

To have a hank on someone - to have a hold over them

- The 1811 Dictionary of the Vulgar Tongue, by Francis Grose.

“This came for you, your grace.”

Ash looked up from his abstraction, discovering as he did so that he’d been staring across his study at nothing in particular for over an hour at least, judging on the time. Grant was standing at his side, that familiar, inscrutable expression that seemed to fit the man like a mask. Like so many of the servants here in Bath, he was the dowager duchess’ creature, and Ash didn’t doubt his every move was reported back to his grandmother in excruciating detail.

He’d been fortunate to discover that both his mother and sister had been abed the whole of the previous day, both afflicted with megrims. So, as he’d forbidden the staff to speak of it, the distasteful news of Lord Todd’s demise had not yet reached them. For the time being, this had saved him from what he knew well would be hysterical and distressing scenes. The longer he could delay that, the better, but sooner or later they would have to know the truth. His stomach twisted at the idea, especially as he would bear the responsibility for their distress.

He waited until the butler had left the room before opening the letter. It was brief and to the point, to say the least.

I know what you did.

Meet me in the abbey at seven am.

Ash dropped the missive as if it had burned him. Good God, as if things weren’t bad enough. Now he had a blackmailer to contend with. Forcing himself to calm down with difficulty whilst his heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest, he poured himself a drink. He refused to notice that his hand was trembling, and instead considered what best to do. His first reaction was to run to confide in Keziah and seek her opinion, but he felt enough of a fool in her eyes already. If he could deal with this himself, perhaps she wouldn’t look on him with such … pitiful contempt.

He would meet this person, whoever they may be, and discover what they wanted, though he could guess well enough. It was well known that he was amongst the wealthiest men in the country. Any blackmailer would be a fool to demand anything less than thirty thousand. If it was just a one-off payment Ash would have handed it over without a second glance and welcome. But he wasn’t fool enough to believe that was how it would work. No, he would have to think of something else.

He didn’t see Keziah again that day, which was perhaps just as well. He’d likely only blurt out about the letter he’d got, and he was determined to save her that worry, at least.

He’d found himself outside her bedroom door twice during the afternoon, though, the first time put off by the glower of a disapproving maid, and the second by fearing the young woman herself would not be pleased to see him. He was walking back down the stairs feeling discouraged and scolding himself as a coward when the voice of his grandmother cut through the air like a finely honed blade and pierced his brain.

“Felix!”

Repeating the accusations of cowardice to himself, he turned in her direction and forced a smile to his lips. He found her awaiting him, wearing a rather elegant dove grey that he found very becoming, and framed in the doorway of the yellow salon.

“Grandmother,” he said, moving forward to press a dutiful kiss to her soft cheek. There was certainly nothing else soft about her, he thought with a rare moment of criticism. “I hope you are well?”

“Never mind that,” she barked, gesturing for him to follow her in and shut the door. “Why was that grubby little man here this morning, and why have we a young, unmarried female in the house? For I tell you now,” she said, her green eyes flashing fury, “if you’re thinking of getting in the petticoat line, you can just think again!”

“Good God,” Ash replied, nettled by the accusation. “I should think not, and I can’t understand why you should accuse me of it, either. It’s not as if that’s ever been my lay.”

“Oh, do stop using that vulgar cant,” she scolded before returning to the subject at hand. “And what should I think, I ask you?” she demanded. “Strangers in the house and goings on.” The dowager was grumbling in earnest now, and favoured him with a leery eye, glaring at him in a manner which suggested her meticulous household was falling apart solely because of his misbehaviour. Ash had to concede she might have a point, except that she’d failed to realise it was no longer her household, it was his. Something a number of people might do well to remember, he thought with a brooding air of discontent.

“I demand that you tell me what is going on,” the imperious voice commanded. Ash knew only too well how she hated not knowing everything that was going on. “Are you in trouble?”

There was a glitter in the old woman’s eyes that told him she well knew that he was, and he was overwhelmed with the urge to confide in her. Since his father had spent a great deal of his time away from home, the running of the household had fallen to his grandmother. His mother had no head for it, nor any interest, and the dowager had been so loath to hand over the reins that the status quo appeared to have carried on in much the same way since his grandmother had first arrived as a new bride. If one was to believe that the woman only ran the household, however, that would be to do her a great disservice. She did not so much manage the various great estates as much as control them, and every living being under their roofs. Lady Margaret was a grand dame in every sense; she was regarded with as much awe as respect, and if she wasn’t universally loved, she was held in affection by many and feared by more.

As a young man with an absent father and with a house full of females, however, this had not had a positive effect on his confidence. It was hard to be decisive when one’s grandmother constantly overruled one and usually pointed out one was being an utter idiot just for good measure.

No, Ash decided. If he was ever to earn Keziah’s respect, and his own, more to the point, he needed to do this without interference. However, the death of his mother’s beau could hardly be kept from her much longer. He groaned inwardly as he realised how distraught his darling mama would be.

It didn’t bear thinking about.

“Well?” Lady Margaret said, her increasingly tart voice snapping him out of his thoughts.

“No, no,” Ash replied, waving an impatient hand and sitting himself down. “No trouble, but I do have bad news, shocking, in fact,” he added, wondering how the old girl would take it. “Lord Todd has been murdered.”

“Nonsense,” she said, twitching at the drapes of her skirts with an impatient air. “Men of Lord Todd’s ilk don’t go getting themselves murdered, more’s the pity,” she added with a dark look. “They do the murdering.”

“Well, nonetheless,” Ash replied, irritated that she wouldn’t take his word for even this information without believing he’d gotten his facts wrong. “He has been murdered and that’s why Inspector Formby was here.”

The dowager stared very hard at Ash, her green eyes cool and measuring.

“What the devil has that to do with us?”