moved in the higher echelons of society. Her manners were impeccable, although studied, as if they hadn’t come naturally to her. She had been born to a different life, he guessed, and had used the only assets she possessed to make her way in life: her beauty and her body. Rupert had known many women like her, had bedded a fair number too. He could spot them a mile off.
‘I would like to enquire with you, mistress, how a person may go about selling a silk waistcoat in a town such as this.’
The proprietress’s irregularly shaved eyebrows rose, and she batted her eyelashes in a manner she obviously thought beguiling. ‘Sell, my lord? Pardon my presumption but you don’t look like the sort of man who’s in need of selling anything.’
‘Not me,’ he replied curtly. ‘Recently, an item of clothing was … purloined from me, and I’m anxious to purchase it back.’ He didn’t mention that he had no intention of ever wearing the waistcoat again after the highwaywoman had had her dirty hands on it. However, it could provide a clue to catching the thief – if she decided to sell it locally, she might try her luck here.
‘Pray, what sort of item?’ she asked.
Rupert gave a description of the waistcoat, and the woman had trouble hiding a smirk. ‘I know of it, sir. There are rumours in town that a fine gentleman was robbed of his clothes two nights ago on the Heath. Even his breeches. One of the items stolen fits the description you just gave me.’
‘That’s a damned lie! The brigand ruined my hat and robbed me of my waistcoat, but I’m telling you this, madam, I would just as soon have shot him before allowing him to humiliate me further!’
‘Of course, sir, I’m merely reporting what I’ve heard,’ the woman said with a little smile, which Rupert had a sudden urge to wipe off her mealy-mouthed face. Permanently.
Was the whole town grinning behind his back, even this good-for-nothing ex-courtesan? How dare she? He couldn’t think what he might have done to deserve such censure.
Of course, there was the business with the maid who got herself into trouble. His uncle had forced him to see the wench right, and out of his own allowance too, but her father, a local man, had grumbled about her being ruined and nonsense like that. And there was the innkeeper who had insisted Rupert settle his bill immediately and not run an account. A fight had developed in which Rupert had sustained a black eye, and because he made such a fuss about it the innkeeper landed in gaol for a fortnight and lost his business. The ridiculous little man had actually sworn revenge.
But his indiscretions had been a couple of years ago, when he had not been well-versed in the ways of the world. Surely the whole town couldn’t have been harbouring ill feelings towards him all this time? Especially since lately he had been spending most of his time in London, with Cousin Jack tagging along as the censorious chaperone. It seemed he couldn’t get rid of the fellow, no matter how hard he tried.
He was brought up short as an idea occurred to him. He knew that his uncle’s title and estate had never been his to inherit, and it was resentment over the fact that Jack would get everything and he himself only a paltry sum that made him freely spend of his uncle’s money for as long he could. However, if Jack was out of the picture, Rupert, as the son of Lord Lampton’s cousin, would be next in line. In fact, there was no one else, all other lines of the family having died out. Perhaps there was a way of ridding himself of his annoying cousin? For good.
If Jack should meet with an accident while they were chasing the intrepid highwaywoman … If Rupert could lead him into a trap …
It was certainly worth losing a hundred guineas over.
A lot of ‘ifs’,
he thought,
but it might just work.
And if it didn’t, Jack would be none the wiser.
‘Everything all right, sir?’ asked the proprietress, seemingly startled by his
Stephanie Dray, Laura Kamoie