Page 56 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
“Goodness, are you quite all right, Gartside?” Lando interrupted. If Sir Richard gleaned much more information from Clark, it might ruin everything. “You look quite green, as if you’ve seen a ghost.”
All eyes turned to where Gartside had staggered to the fireplace, gripping the marble mantel as if his life depended on it. His usually ruddy features had taken on a corpselike hue. Even his lips were barely there as if all the blood in his head had sunk to his boots.
“This man…” Weakly, he pointed at Kit. “He’s…he’s…”
“’E’s a common thief, my lord, that’s what ’e is.” Clark’s strong fingers twisted into Kit’s arm. “Pinched your pocket well and good, ain’t he?” With a curt nod, the runner addressed Lando. “Now if you’ll excuse me, my lord, I’ll be on my way. There’s a pretty reception awaiting this one.”
With a click of his heels and a vague, mocking bow in Lando’s direction, Clark was gone, dragging Kit with him. The four men left behind stared at one another in bewilderment. Well, two of them, anyhow; the other two deliberately avoided each other’s eye.
“I-I-I don’t…I’m d-damned confused,” admitted Sir Richard, sinking back in his chair.
“I’m afraid that makes two of us,” said Lando. “I’m…at a loss to explain what on earth is happening. Mr Angel is…”
“What else is in that note?” interjected Tommy. “The note the runner handed you. It must have more on it than the magistrate’s stamp. More details, surely. Read it out.”
“I…I…yes. Certainly.” Lando looked down at the now crumpled paper. Tommy had hit his cue perfectly. “I…gosh, this is all dreadfully absurd.”
With the eyes of the others on him, Lando unfolded the sheet once more, his trembling hands nothing to do with his acting skills. On a deep inhale, he pretended to read it again, then clapped a hand across his mouth.
“Oh my.”
“What?” Gartside, sweating profusely, wiped an arm across his sodden brow. “What is it, Rossingley. Dammit, man!”
“It’s…” He dropped the letter face down in his lap then picked it up again. Really, Pritchard would have been most proud of him; they’d practised this dramatic gesture several times. “It says that an arrest warrant has been issued for a Mr Christopher Angel of Sindell Street, London.” At this, he glanced at Sir Richard. “For gross larceny and for—” He swallowed and blew out a breath. “—for masquerading as a senior member of His Majesty’s Customs and using this exalted position to extort and bribe moneys from unsuspecting gentlemen by means of promising them…by promising them favourable business deals.”
He flopped back in his chair, laying a palm across his forehead. “Bribes? Extortion? Gentlemen, I do believe we have…I do believe we have been taken in by a scoundrel.”
“Good lord,” exclaimed Sir Richard. “Good l-l-lord. The man’s an imp-p-oster!”
“Well, knock me down with a feather.” Tommy slapped his thigh. “Masquerading as a government official? I’ll be damned.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Lando peeked across at Gartside, instantly regretting that Kit wasn’t alongside him to bear witness. The man was a picture of anguish. Distraught, he stared into the fire, seeing nothing except perhaps his own crumbling future. Sweat poured from him. Unashamedly he wrenched apart the knot of his cravat.
“I…I’m at a loss for words,” said Lando. A blatant lie; he knew exactly what he would say next. He and Tommy had the script memorised to perfection. “Why, I was actually growing fond of the fellow! And to think this imposter has been living as an esteemed guest under my roof.”
“D-d-done a lot of p-p-preparation too.” Sir Richard sounded almost impressed. “He kn-knew his s-s-stuff. Man’s w-w-wasted as a c-c-con man.”
“As far as I see it, we’ve all had a damned lucky escape,” agreed Lando. “Gosh. It doesn’t bear thinking about.”
“If the bloodhounds of the law hadn’t been on his tracks,” pointed out Tommy, “the devil might have scarpered with a king’s fortune! Who knows? You might have handed hundreds, nay, thousands over. Maybe some fellows already have.” He raised an eyebrow in the direction of Gartside, who appeared on the brink of casting up his accounts.
“Absolutely.” Lando wrung his hands together. “Not to mention the dreadful shame of it.” His wretched anxiety for poor Kit aside, he was quite enjoying himself. “If Angel had succeeded in his dastardly plan, one would never be brave enough to show one’s face in society again for fear of being made a laughingstock. One’s reputation as a man of intellectual soundness would be ruined.”
A pained whimper interrupted his flow.
“Are you sure you’re quite all right, Gartside?” he queried. “You’re still dreadfully pale. Is it something I said?”
“I…” Gartside shook his head. “The…”
Sir Richard’s brow pinched, his mind clearly whirring. Lando couldn’t have chosen a better unwitting accomplice. “W-why d-d-does the arrest m-m-mention you?” His lips thinned. “Sp-sp-specifically. The runner s-singled you out. Y-you…”
Breaking off, his cousin pinched the bridge of his nose between finger and thumb as if trying to drag the information from inside his skull. The man was so close, practically doing Lando’s delicate task for him. He held his breath.
“May I offer up a suggestion, my lord?” A glint of mischief danced in Tommy’s eyes. “I’m but a simple gentleman from across the pond, so I don’t have much care for the rules of your damned society. But it looks to me, and correct me if I’m wrong, but Sir Ambrose is doing a damned fine impression of a man with something to hide.”
“Goodness, Mr Hamilton,” began Lando in mock outrage. “Whether you are familiar with society or not, that is an awfully bold accusation. As my privileged guest here at White’s, I must warn you that gentlemen of thetondon’t take lightly to—”
“You…you’ve already g-g-given him some money, haven’t you?” cried Sir Richard. “You…you b-bribed him, didn’t you? To s-s-secure the deal.” He laughed, scarcely believing what he’d just dared say, but knowing it to be true. “You…you swine!”
