Page 57 of The Marchioness Who Tempted Fate
“Well,” said Mr. Kenault, glancing sideways at Lord Ronald, “The plans for the orphanage are with the architects. We have picked up three more noble patrons, including my oldest cousin, who believes it to be a fine idea.”
“And Tommy won at the races today,” Mr. Quentin announced. “Not only recovering his earlier losses, but paying off his debt to me, as well. Indeed, he treated both of us to a fine meal at the club afterward.”
“Not so fine as those Tiffany sends up,” Mr. Kenault declared. “But stick-to-your ribs fare, including a roast that could nearly rival one prepared by your Michaels.”
“Well, well! That is praise, indeed!” Percival said. “You’ll have to take me there, as soon as the sawbones says I can have something more than beef tea.”
“Gladly, old chap. We will do that soon as you are able.” He then diplomatically turned to the older gentleman in the room. “And how have you been keeping, Lord Ronald?”
“Tolerably well,” Lord Ronald replied. “I congratulate you on your good fortune, Mr. Kenault. It is always a good thing to be able to cover your debts of honor.”
“Quite so, Lord Ronald,” Mr. Kenault agreed. “I was very glad to pay my debt to Eddy, even though he would never dun me for it.”
“How very kind of him,” Lord Ronald remarked loftily. “I will leave you gentlemen to enjoy each other’s company. I believe I shall take these aged bones and lie down for a bit.”
“Don’t let us keep you,” Mr. Quentin said kindly.
When the door closed behind Lord Ronald, the occupants of the room waited for the sound of his footsteps retreating down the hall.
When no further sound was heard, Mr. Kenault stuck his head out the door, and looked up and down the hall. “Coast seems to be clear,” he said. “So what is the pother? That constable fellow seemed to think you might be set upon by rogue servants, or even relatives, if you were left on your own recognizance.”
“Constable fellow?” Percival’s brow furrowed in puzzlement.
“I believe he means Retired Constable Brooks,” McClellan offered by way of explanation.
“Ah. Good man.” Percival’s confusion cleared. “He’s worried?”
“Seems like. He strongly suggested that we come lend our support,” Mr. Quentin added. “We’ve put it about that our pockets are to let after Mr. Kenault’s spending spree, and we need to repair our fortunes by depending upon friends.”
“Are they? Do you?”
Mr. Kenault glanced around at McClellan, Smithers, and Lucas, raising his eyebrows meaningfully.
“We are among friends now,” Percival said, a smile twitching at the corners of his mouth.
Mr. Kenault leaned forward toward Percival and said in a stage whisper, “The horse won! I am rolling in wealth.”
They sat and talked for a while, as old friends do. Then Smithers said that it was time for Percival’s medicine, as he was showing two high spots of color on his face. “The physician did say to limit his excitement,” the valet gently explained.
After Smithers had coaxed him to try lying down in his bed, Percival stared at the ceiling.
What has Constable Brooks discovered that would have him worried enough to ask Edward Quentin and Thomas Kenault to come stay with me? Has something gone wrong? Is Tiffany in danger?
His thoughts tumbled about between his ears, threading around and about each other, creating a great tangle.
Chapter 39
Tiffany paced the narrow confines of her hiding place, a newspaper clutched in her hand.
“Marquess lies at Deaths Door after Attack by Serving Woman” the headline screamed. Then farther down the page was a line drawing that looked nothing like Tiffany, with a smaller heading “Cook Flees justice. Stewed in her own plot?”
“Who prints this rubbish?” she burst out. But another little voice inside of her whispered, “What if he is really in danger? I am so far away.”
She must have said it out loud, because Old Elizabet came in just then. “Hush, hush, child,” she said soothingly. “You must not worry so loudly. They will hear you.”
“Who will hear me?”
“The constables. Come, we must hide you in a different place. This room is too easy to find.”
