Page 31 of To Tempt a Troubled Earl
A much more definite conclusion, and one Lando dismissed on the spot, would be if someone let slip to therealcustoms officials that an imposter was trying to extort London gentlemen—Lando included. Then let Kit take the fall and subsequently persuade the magistrates to go gently on him. Gartside would still be humiliated, but it was a horrible plan with far too many ifs and buts for Lando’s liking, and the chances of magistrates dismissing Kit, already wanted for a different set of crimes, was highly improbable.
He sighed, sinking lower in the tub. “Any news from Jasper?”
“Yes, my lord,” Pritchard answered sourly. “Plenty. Starting with a declaration that the joys of valeting are not to his liking. And he’s making certain that everybody below stairs is aware of it.”
Lando laughed. “Surely dressing a man as comely as Mr Angel isn’t that tiresome, is it?”
“Heavens, no. I’d give my eyeteeth to have at him.”
As Lando twisted in his bath to stare him down, Pritchard added, “Obviously beingyourpersonal valet is a far superior and elevated position.”
“Far superior.”
“Though he is a fine figure of a man.”
“He is that,” agreed Lando. “In fact, I’m particularly taken by his broad shoulders. Though it sounds as if they are not sufficient to sway Jasper’s low opinion.”
Pritchard peered at Lando’s midnight black evening dress, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. “No. Mr Angel’s presence unfortunately serves to remind Jasper that the man has insulted you more than once. And Jasper’s presence reminds Mr Angel of his lingering bruises. They are struggling to see eye to eye. Literally. Especially after today’s run around.”
Lando reached for a washcloth. “Do tell?”
Pritchard moistened his lips before launching into his tale. “Well, having spent much of the morning reading through that dull pile of books you left for him, Mr Angel tried to give Jasper the slip by sneaking out of a side entrance unobserved.” Pritchard shook out a silk stocking. “He failed, naturally. Jasper followed him at a discreet distance, though God knows how that great one-eyed lump manages to blend into the background. Regardless, Mr Angel didn’t spot him.”
“Where did he go?”
“Vauxhall Gardens, my lord. Whereupon he strolled, aimlessly. Jasper had the impression he was spying out all the other young, well-dressed gentlemen with nothing better to do. And then deliberately contriving to walk alongside them and occasionally stopping to pass the time of day.”
Annoyance bit at Lando’s insides, and he scowled.
“But not walkingwiththem,” added Pritchard after a delicate pause. “If you catch my drift.”
Lando breathed a sigh of relief. “I do, but the suspense you add to a tale is quite vexatious. And after Mr Angel’s social meanderings?”
Pritchard’s brow furrowed. “Jasper said it was most curious. After setting a painfully slow pace along the main avenue, as soon as he left the gardens, Mr Angel marched to Vauxhall Bridge like his arse was on fire, if you’ll pardon the expression. Dived into one of the less salubrious goldsmiths, was back outside five minutes later, then headed here. Thankfully, Hargreaves made his usual song and dance over relieving him of his hat and coat at the front door, giving Jasper time to hotfoot it around the back and pretend he’d been loitering in the scullery polishing boots all along. Upon which Mr Angel inspected the boots and remarked that considering he’d been at it all afternoon, they weren’t especially shined. Which put Jasper’s nose out of joint something rotten.”
“I imagine it did,” replied Lando slowly, aware of a growing sense of unease. Perhaps his relief that Kit wasn’t searching for male entertainment had been premature. Wandering around throngs of strangers then visiting a pawn shop? He knew precisely what Kit was up to, namely his light-fingered old tricks. For everyone’s sake, Lando hoped the runner, Clark, was less observant than Jasper. Suddenly, his bathing was less sweet. “My towel please, Pritchard, and my robe.”
*
WITH THEIR DISAGREEMENTand his worries still fresh in Kit’s mind—judging from his expressive, downturned mouth—they dined in near silence. Lando’s London dining table comprised fewer leaves than the expansive ocean at his country estate, necessitating Kit to be seated only a few feet away from him. Nonetheless, the distance may well have been the body of water separating England from France. How different this was to the atmosphere of their supper together at Rossingley, Lando reflected. And how well crisp evening attire suited his darkly handsome guest. Even if he was sulking. The man had quite a talent for it.
Whilst Kit chomped steadily through cook’s excellent loin of pork with stewed apples, Lando only picked. For the first time since arriving in London and having Kit in his home, his thoughts turned towards Charles. At best, since losing his lover, his appetite had never been strong, but when faced with a stony companion, it was positively kittenish.
If such a wooden atmosphere hadn’t prevailed, Lando might have been tempted to warn Kit that his modest home on Sindell Street was being watched, that perhaps even his pilfering at Vauxhall might be under scrutiny. Even Jasper wasn’t infallible, for all that his one eye was surprisingly sharp. But if Lando did that, if he confessed to having Kit followed for no other reason than Lando’s own naturally untrusting nature, then Kit would despise him even more.
“Tell me, Kit,” he said, disturbing the empty stretch of time between clinks of silverware. “How did you come about your light-fingered skills?”
“Through necessity.”
Lando waited for more. It was not forthcoming. He toyed with a morsel of pork.
“Whilst I appreciate your candidness, necessity does not enable a person to wake one morning with the required skills. Otherwise, every man down on his luck would be chancing his arm.”
Kit speared a carrot, making Lando wait. “I’m not at liberty to divulge,” he said after swallowing. “Isn’t that your preferred expression? You’re not the only one with secrets.”
“I am, however, the only one of us behaving in an adult fashion.” Lando’s tone was sharp. “If you’re having second thoughts regarding the whole scheme, now is the time to declare them. Before we wade out of our depth.”
Kit laughed mirthlessly. “Wade out of our depth? It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” He waved his fork around as if searching for something to stab. “I want Gartside ruined. I may ruin my neck in the process. We’ve already established what’s the worst that can happen.” He thrust the fork into an unsuspecting roast potato. “So, for want of a better alternative, I’m going to have to go along with it, aren’t I?”
