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* * *
The Clover party packed for the trip to Worthington Hall. Lady Josephine would be there, as would the Duke of Clover. Lady Hermione had received an invitation, in part because her mother, Lady Adeline, was openly one of the Prince Regent’s mistresses. Ducky would serve as lady’s maid. Ace would accompany the Duke, ostensibly as his valet.
“You don’t mind, do you, lad?” His Grace asked Ace. He had grown quite fond of the young man, and he placed a lot of trust in him. He sensed that Ace, although reserved and well-mannered in dealing with the Clover household, would gladly die in Lady Josephine’s service.
That said a lot about a man’s character. Perhaps, when Lady Josephine was successfully married, the Duke thought he might involve Ace in some of his spy missions. Let the lad serve his King and country with the same loyalty he showed Lady Josephine.
“Mind? Not at all, Your Grace,” Ace replied. “Honored to serve you. If anything, I’m worried that I lack the training for the job.”
“You’ll do fine,” the Duke said affably. “I’m used to having inexperienced valets. I had a fellow put holes in my shirts when he tried to iron them. You can’t be any worse than he was!”
* * *
Ace had some business of his own to conduct before leaving London. First, he made sure that Paddy and Charley had the coin to follow him to Worthington by public coach.
“I may need you,” Ace explained. “Either to go back and forth to London with messages for me, or to handle other things. Remember we have a big match coming up in mid-May. I’ll need you to sniff around and do some research on my opponent.”
Then Ace wanted to stop in at the John Bull Pugilist Society. Ace had not seen Johnny Shiemour since Ace had been beaten up in a London alley. Ace had no direct proof that the thugs who set upon him were Shiemour’s men. One of them had mentioned Johnny’s name—that proved almost nothing.
But Ace felt certain that his injuries—his near-murder, really!—were Shiemour’s doing.
When Ace entered the back room of the John Bull, Shiemour was there. He smiled at Ace insincerely and called out, “Good to see you, lad! We were worried about you—we heard you got a bad beating. All right now?”
“Tip top shape, and all the better for getting some rest,” said Ace with equal insincerity.
“Good, good. Glad to hear it,” Shiemour said. “It shows you, though, it’s no good to be making enemies. You might find yourself dead in an alley for it.
“Although I have to compliment you, you certainly have friends as well as enemies. I heard the Duke of Clover took you in—nursed you back to health like a mother with her own wee babe.”
This witticism drew laughter from Shiemour’s cronies standing around.
“Aye, the Duke is a good friend to have,” Ace agreed with a big smile on his face. He did not trust Shiemour one bit. Yet he was one of Shiemour’s top moneymakers—Johnny was a practical man, and not likely to bite for the second time the hand that fed him.
Ace made some arrangements for the bout in mid-May, then turned to leave. He was surprised to see that Baron Roster, Lady Josephine’s cousin, had arrived and was deep in conversation with Johnny Shiemour. What was that all about? The two appeared to be becoming fast friends, themselves.
The Baron seemed to be pleading with Johnny. “I know I can pull it off, if I have your help,” he said. “I just don’t know the sort of people who would take on a job like that. And you do.”
“I’d need to get a pretty big share of the spoils,” replied Shiemour. “I’m not going to put my head into the hangman’s noose for nothing.”
There was more talk, too low for Ace to hear it. And then the word “entail” was mentioned again, just like in the last discussion Ace had heard between Baron Roster and Shiemour. Ace had meant to find out the meaning of that word. His gut instincts were telling him that it was important, somehow—it might be the key to Shiemour and the Baron’s schemes.
* * *
They all set off for Worthington Hall in the Duke’s grand coach with its coat of arms emblazoned on its doors, and attended by coachman and footmen in full livery. Another more serviceable coach followed with trunks of luggage, for it was known that on country weekends among thehaut ton,one needed shooting and sports clothes, daytime and evening wear fully accessorized.
There was nothing casual about a country weekend.
As on the night of the Worthington ball, Ace sat up on the front box with the coachman. He found it easier that way—if he had had to spend the long trip within the coach, in Lady Josephine’s company, he felt he might have lost his mind.
* * *
Lady Josephine caught her breath at her first glimpse of Worthington Hall. It was magnificently set on a hill. The approach was about a quarter mile long, with grand, ancient trees lining both sides of the drive and joining in a pleached canopy overhead. When one finally emerged from the trees, one saw the symmetrical Georgian outlines of Worthington Hall, situated on a glimmering lake.
Lady Josephine loved the house immediately, as she could not love its owner.What a pity that the Earl is so cruel and vain, and that his lady mother is so hungry for continued power over her own house and household. For otherwise I could have been happy here, raising children in this beautiful place. I will never be in love with anyone but Ace—but in a different world, the Earl and I could have been friends and companions here.
Somewhat sadly, then, she entered the house that was soon to be hers in name only. Guests were told by the butler to assemble in the drawing room, once they had dressed for dinner. His Royal Highness the Prince Regent and his party would be arriving soon, and the Prince, by protocol, should be the last guest to enter the drawing room.
Lady Josephine found she had been placed in a room two doors away from Lady Hermione. After much fuss and searching of trunks for their very best evening wear, Ducky had the two young ladies dressed.
