Page 65 of Wicked Rivals
Nelson nudged the door an inch further, studying the well-bred ladies as they walked back into the parlor. But before they disappeared inside he heard Lady Rochester speak.
“A wedding in Hampshire. It will be lovely.”
Lennox was to be married? He shut the door and came down the stairs to find the butler, careful to appear as though he was about his normal duties. The older man was standing in the servants’ corridor, speaking to the housekeeper.
“Ah, Nelson, there you are. We have a few errands for you to run.” The butler held out a strip of parchment.
Nelson glanced at the parchment and tucked it into his vest pocket. “Of course.” He had become accustomed to the patterns of the household and knew he’d most likely be sent off about now. He bid the butler a hasty farewell and left the Sheridan house.
He walked for some time before he deemed himself sufficiently out of sight and allowed himself to wave down a hackney.
“Where to?” the driver asked.
“The Strand.” He handed the man a few coins and leapt into the cab.
The cab rattled past Covent Garden, and Nelson watched the streets as they passed. During the day the Strand was fairly reputable, with shops open and decent folk exploring the stands and peering into the shop windows. At night, however, the street took on a more ominous character. Not that Nelson was afraid to travel then. He had been well trained in ungentlemanly combat. It was those who might interfere with him who should be afraid.
The cab stopped at the edge of the Strand, and Nelson hopped out. He dodged the fine ladies in their walking dresses and the men escorting them from shop to shop. Nelson ventured farther until he saw the Coal Hole Tavern’s sign creaking in the light breeze.
The door burst open, and several men and two women stumbled out laughing. Their faces were familiar, actors he’d seen at recent plays. That was of no surprise, though. The Coal Hole was a gathering place for many actors and had even been a private theater at one time. Nelson let the men and women pass by before he caught the open door and slipped inside.
The taproom was rowdy but not as unseemly as a tavern would be in other parts of London. But by nightfall the lightskirts and pickpockets would be out, much to the respective delight and despair of men brave enough to venture here after hours.
A barman stood near the back stairs that led to the upper rooms. Nelson made his way over.
“What do you need?” the barman grunted.
“Have you ever seen a White Lion?” he asked.
“I believe we have a painting of one. Last door on the left.” The barman moved his considerable bulk aside and let Nelson pass.
The sounds from the rooms he passed showed that more than one soul was out enjoying their pleasures early.
As he reached the last door on the left, he rapped his knuckles in a specific pattern.
“Enter.”
Twisting the handle, Lewis opened the door. The two men inside stared at him, one seated at a writing table and the other leaning against the wall by the window. The man by the window was in his late twenties, and the other man was in his late thirties; Lewis reported to the latter.
Hugo Waverly waved a hand at Nelson. “Ah, Lewis. Report.” He dropped his gaze back to his papers, his dark hair falling into his eyes as he shuffled pages, looking for something. The man by the window, Daniel Sheffield, Hugo’s right-hand man, encouraged Lewis with a nod.
“I completed a search of the Melbourne residence for the item you were seeking. I’m afraid I could not find it.”
Hugo scowled. “Damn. She must have taken it with her when she left London. Anything else?”
Nelson nodded. “Lennox is off to the Doctors’ Commons for a special license. He plans to be married in two days’ time in Hampshire.”
Hugo’s quill ceased scratching on the parchment. He slowly raised his head.
“Married to whom?” He gave each word such weight that even Lewis, who’d been raised in a thieves’ den, got chills.
“Lady Melbourne.”
The quill tip snapped, spilling ink across the page. Sheffield came around the side of Hugo’s writing table.
“Do you have any other details?” Sheffield asked.
Lewis stood straighter, recognizing the seriousness with which they took this news. “Essex, Rochester, Sheridan and their wives will be traveling to Hampshire to stay with Lennox and will be there for the ceremony.”
