Page 64 of Never a Duke
“Papa won’t hear of me going for a parson, Roz. So here I am, composing odes to idleness and hoping you don’t make a cake of yourself over Ned Wentworth.”
Hoping she didn’t complicate Lindy’s finances, which Lindy himself had mucked up in the first place. “Get some rest, George. I must be off, or the bridle paths will be too crowded.”
“You aren’t listening to me,” George said, a hint of real frustration in his tone. “Roz, if the talk is true, Ned Wentworth spent time in Newgate.”
“So did His Grace of Walden. I don’t see you giving him the cut direct.”
“Ask him,” George said. “Ask Wentworth if he’s a former criminal, ask him if Walden put a pickpocket in charge of keeping other people’s money safe. There’s a reason the peerage tends not to bank with Walden, and Ned Wentworth is a big part of it.”
“The boot is on the other foot, George: The Wentworths more often than not decline to do business with the peerage, but that is no concern of mine. Ned Wentworth has at least taken seriously my worries regarding the disappearances of both Campbell and Arbuckle.”
George inhaled through his nose in exactly the same manner Papa did when he was preparing to lecture Rosalind about duty, expectations, and a woman’s proper place.
“They simply abandoned their posts,” George said, biting off each word. “For once, Rosalind, leave well enough alone. If you embroil Ned Wentworth in your cork-brained fancies about kidnapped maids, he could end up facing far worse than a few unkind whispers, as could you.”
Today of all days, Rosalind did not have time to explain to George exactly how unkind the whispers about her had already been.L-l-l-lady R-r-r-rosalind…
“Mr. Wentworth has been nothing but proper with me, George, while you are tired and out of sorts. I’ll leave you to seek your bed.”
The longcase clock chimed the quarter hour, and Rosalind hurried from the library. She wasn’t late, but she was upset. George handing out advice was unnerving enough, but that he’d taken note of Rosalind’s comings and goings, and that he’d warn her away from Ned, was unnerving.
George’s concerns were not, however, entirely logical. Rosalind assured herself of that as she settled into the saddle and took up the reins. Papa did not bank with His Grace of Walden, but other peers did. The Duke of Elsmore was among the bank’s directors, and His Grace of Rothhaven doubtless invested with the Walden bank.
Though Elsmore and his duchess didn’t socialize much, and His Grace of Rothhaven attended only family functions, if that.
The groom trailed a respectful distance behind, while Rosalind’s misgivings threatened to crowd out her joy to be seeing Ned again. She arrived at the park a bit early, and let her mare toddle up one bridle path and down another, and still, Ned Wentworth wasn’t to be found.
***
Of all the excuses for tardiness or dereliction of duty that the badgers handed Ned—and their repertoire was vast and imaginative—the one Ned had the least sympathy for was,I overslept.
A lad could catch a nap in the afternoon, turn in early when exhausted, break his fast on the fly, and otherwise maintain punctuality.I oversleptin Ned’s lexicon equated toI am unreliable, which qualified as a mortal sin.
Ned was thus mentally berating himself as his horse was led out, for he was at risk for missing his appointment with Lady Rosalind. Duncan’s warning—to tell Rosalindall of it—had wrecked any prayer of sleep. Ned had dozed off an hour before dawn, precisely when he should have been rising.
Rosalind would wait for him if he was a little late, but still…a gentleman was punctual.
Ned would normally have allowed his gelding a few minutes at the walk to limber up legs that had spent the night in a stall. He instead urged his mount to trot right out of the mews.
He was considering a canter as he approached the street, when a figure stepped out of the shadows at the mouth of the alley.
“Guv.”
Not now.Ned drew the horse up. “Billy. Speak your piece. I’m late for an appointment.”
Billy might have been thirty, he might have been fifty. His features were weathered and wary, his frame spare. He was exactly what Tryphena would have made Ned, given the chance.
A lackey, a broken spirit whose loyalty hadn’t even a dog’s dignity.
“Ye’ll wait to hear what I have to say, guv.”
“Then say it.” Ned ought to be more diplomatic, for Billy had sought him out for reasons, probably Tryphena’s twisted, criminal reasons. Still, Ned was at an impasse with his attempts to locate the missing maids, and Billy had taken a risk leaving his waterfront warren.
“You’re all high and mighty now,” Billy said, presuming to pat Ned’s horse. “Quite the nabob with your own house, a groom, and a housekeeper.”
In the parlance of the waterfront, that was a courteous warning that Ned’s house and employees were at risk of harm.
“I’ve worked hard, Billy. I didn’t gain what I have by stealing or extorting wealth from others.” Ned tried for a flat statement of facts, but he stated only a convenient half-truth. Hehadstolen. If he’d remained in Tryphena’s hands, then extortion, violence, and exploitation would have been all in a day’s work.
