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Chapter Thirty-Three
Charles had received a letter when he had arrived at his office. He thanked the clerk, then took it into his office, closing the door. He saw Arabella’s handwriting, flipped it over to find her seal, pressed into the wax.
Breaking the seal, he opened the letter.
Charles,
I don’t know when you’ll receive this. I will have to have Annette sneak it out for me. My father is threatening to harm you if I do not agree to marry the Duke of Longmire. I don’t plan on giving the Duke any positive answer, so I am warning you to keep an eye out.
Love,
Arabella.
He wrote her a quick reply.
You’ve done right. Do not do anything that would make your life unhappy. Not for my sake.
There was a knock on the door.
“Come in,” he called out, expecting Arthur to peer inside. Charles looked up, surprised to find that Lord Dunsmore was there.
“Here,” he said, handing him yet another disguise. “We are to playLe MarquisandLe Ducone final time, my dear friend.”
Charles put on the blond wig, yet again, stuffed the cotton wads into his cheeks, so that they bulged. It was ingenious how such small things could vary an appearance.
“Where are we going?” he asked, his words garbled.
“We will be going to meet with Mr. Bones,” Lord Dunsmore explained. “I’ve set it all up.”
“Very good, My Lord.”
On their way out, Charles gave his note to Arabella to the clerk who worked in the office, to send out with the rest of the post. It was a risk, to send something to Arabella. He could only hope that his letter reached her.
Charles and Lord Dunsmore took Lord Dunsmore’s carriage out to a residence that was located out by the docks. From the front, it wasn’t much to look at. Charles himself wouldn’t have given it a second look.
Lord Dunsmore walked confidently up to a small group of sailors, who appeared to be loitering in front.
“I’ve a meeting with Mr. Bones,” he told them in a French accent, handing one of them a card. The man looked at it, then turned and went inside. Charles and Lord Dunsmore waited. The two other sailors observed them with very mild curiosity. It was as though they had seen much, and were surprised at very little any more.
The first man returned, and motioned for them to go inside. “Mr. Bones will see you now,” he said. Charles was nervous, but he kept his features composed. He followed behind Lord Dunsmore, who seemed utterly at ease. They entered the building to find that the inside was elegant. There was thick carpeting on the clean wood floors. The walls were painted a deep maroon that was so dark, that it was nearly black.
Like heart’s blood.
They were taken down a hallway, to a room. The man knocked. A male voice responded. “Come in.”
The door was opened, and Charles was shocked, nearly unto death, when he found that they were facing the Duke of Tiverwell. He was sitting behind a very large and empty wooden desk. Compared to the rest of the building, this office was spare. All of the furniture was expensive, large and heavy.
Lord Dunsmore took off his disguise. “I’d pretend that I’m French, but I think you know who I am.”
“I do,” the Duke looked at Charles, “I’ve never seen your valet before.”
“And you will never see him again,” Lord Dunsmore replied, turning His Grace’s attention away from Charles. “He’s here for my own personal protection. You can’t be too careful these days.” He patted Charles on the shoulder.
“Quite right,” the Duke replied. “What with gentlemen being murdered in the streets.” He sighed, as if it was an imposition. “What are you looking for, Dunsmore?”
“I was wondering what it was that you procure for the Millgate Club members, Your Grace?”
“Is there something that you need, My Lord?” His Grace replied, smoothly deflecting.
