Chapter Fourteen

From Ned Bartlett’s grim expression, Oberon suspected that Thad was not in good shape. But the boy was alive, and Oberon didn’t realise just how very grateful he was for that news until he saw Miss Sutton’s shoulders sag with relief. If they had not been in public, he would have taken her in his arms. As it was, he had his hands full trying to keep her from running all the way back to Sutton House.

There, Oberon was glad to discover that Pearson had taken charge, so that Thad was cleaned up and tucked into bed. A whispered conference with his valet revealed the extent of the boy’s injuries, but he could not keep Miss Sutton from her brother’s side. And to her credit, she did not faint or wince at the sight of his bruised face and swollen eye, but greeted him with her usual briskness.

‘I’m sorry, sis,’ he mumbled.

‘Nonsense,’ she said. ‘It is I who am sorry for putting you—and all of us—in danger.’

But Thad shook his head. ‘Not your doing,’ he muttered. Then he glanced towards Oberon. ‘I gave nearly as good as I got, your Grace, but there were two of them.’

Oberon nodded. ‘Are you feeling well enough to tell me about it? Because I’d like to give them a go myself,’ he said, surprised at the truth of that statement.

‘Not your problem,’ Thad said. But, gradually, Oberon was able to coax the tale from the boy, which, as he had suspected, involved trouble from London.

It began with Thad falling in with a pair of brothers, unsavoury sorts, he admitted, who encouraged him to spend his allowance more freely than had been his wont. Soon he was frequenting low taverns and the kind of hells where a green young man with money is easily fleeced. This uncharacteristic behaviour continued until one morning he arrived home, stumbling drunk, to find his sister waiting for him.

As usual, Miss Sutton proved her worth. Instead of railing at the boy, she took measures to immediately remove him from the influence of the Fairmans, though that appeared to be a misnomer.

‘If that even is their real name,’ Westfield said, and Thad was still innocent enough to blink at the suggestion.

But he was not so naïve as to think he could escape his gambling debts and had dutifully paid them. No doubt he would have lost everything, like so many other young men, if not for his sister. However, at the time he was not grateful for the intervention, which likely saved them all from ruin.

Instead, upon arriving in Philtwell, he wrote to his former acquaintances, complaining about his situation. Unsurprisingly, at least to Oberon, he received no reply—until he mentioned the Queen’s Gift. Then the boy received a pointed query as to the legitimacy of the story and the whereabouts of the so-called treasure. But, by this time, Thad’s interest in his earlier compatriots had been usurped by something else.

‘The charms of a certain vicar’s daughter, perhaps?’ Oberon said.

Thad looked startled at the words, but rather relieved that his secret was out, and he nodded. ‘She came into the Pump Room one day and it was like my heart stopped,’ he said, with a wry smile. His open admission struck Oberon with a pang of envy, for the boy had wrestled with no demons or duties.

And Miss Longley had acted upon him in a way his sister had not. Faced with gaining her approval, Thad cut off communication with his old cohorts. He’d thought himself well rid of them until, much to his dismay, the younger Fairman appeared in Philtwell. And when Thad did not greet him with open arms, a scuffle ensued.

‘The two smelled a prize in the Queen’s Gift and came to see for themselves,’ Oberon said. ‘It’s just the sort of thing that would draw such scoundrels: a priceless heirloom, ready for the taking. The journey required little investment, with the potential to make much more than in years of skimming money from rigged card games and the like. And all the better, if you should find the gift for them.’

Thad nodded, his expression sheepish. ‘I might have exaggerated the possibility of discovering it, too, just so they wouldn’t think I was buried in some backwater without hope of escape. But when Billy came, I told him that it was just an old rumour, and even though he got the best of me, I figured he’d leave. What else could he do?’

Thad shook his head, as if only now becoming aware of his miscalculation. ‘Once when I was out walking, I thought I caught a glimpse of him, but I convinced myself that it was just my imagination and that he was long gone. I didn’t realise they were both here, and I never even thought of them in connection with all that happened to Queen’s Well.’

For all her devotion, Miss Sutton was not blind to her brother’s shortcomings and she slanted him a sharp glance. ‘So you weren’t trying to find the Queen’s Gift for them?’

‘No!’ Thad recoiled in disgust. ‘I was interested in finding it for us…er, myself…er, to impress someone.’

‘Reverend Longley?’ Oberon asked.

Thad nodded reluctantly. ‘I know he doesn’t think much of the spa, though Miss Longley says he’ll come around, and I thought if I could make such a big discovery, that it would be…an accomplishment, what with the history and all.’ He paused, a bit shame-faced, before continuing. ‘And I hoped that if it really was valuable, then I could…get married.’

‘But, Thad,’ his sister began, and Oberon hoped she did not intend to try to talk him out of his infatuation. The boy was young and in love, and any interference would only make him more determined. But Oberon should have known that Miss Sutton would make no such mistake. Instead she reached for her brother’s hand.

‘You can get married at any time,’ she assured him. ‘Half of the family fortune is yours. I only kept control of the monies for your own sake, so that you would not fall prey to anyone like the Fairmans before reaching maturity.’

Thad had the good grace to blush at this statement, indicating that he might finally appreciate his sister’s foresight.

‘In fact, if you want to remain here, you can even have Queen’s Well,’ Miss Sutton said. ‘It is as much yours as mine.’

Her offer, tendered without any hesitation, stunned Oberon. Hadn’t she claimed to love the spa above all else? He turned towards her, trying to gauge her mood, but to all appearances, she was willing to give over her life’s work, the object of her devotion, at one word from Thad.

‘But, first, we must take care of the Fairmans,’ she added, turning towards Oberon with an expectant expression. ‘What do you think?’

Oberon didn’t know what to think, with the latest revelations ringing in his ears and his tenure as magistrate likely coming to an end. But the Suttons were waiting for his reply, so he could only tell them what they wanted to hear.

‘Perhaps we have our villains.’

Pearson insisted that Oberon change clothes in case a brawl ensued. He shook out an older coat that he deemed less fashionable and, thus, more dispensable, having already forced Oberon into a pair of breeches that had seen better days.

‘I do not plan to land in the dirt,’ Oberon replied.

‘Nor do I, but one never knows with these low types. They do not play by the rules.’ He turned, holding out the coat for Oberon, a grim smile upon his face. ‘I almost feel sorry for them. They have no idea whom they are dealing with.’

‘And why should they?’ Oberon said. ‘Like any London criminal, they think themselves far too clever for the rural population, let alone a village of this size and location.’

Pearson laughed. ‘Yet, by this time, you’ve got more men stationed in the area than the whole of Bow Street.’

‘Not quite,’ Oberon said, though he had definitely gone beyond the bounds of the usual magistrate, allying himself with many of the villagers, from boys to aged grandfathers who could keep an eye out without drawing attention. And they were in addition to Pearson, himself, his grooms and the men who had arrived from London. It was all a bit heavy-handed for a couple of petty knaves like the Fairmans.

‘So why don’t you let some of these fellows, who are well paid for their services, deal with the riff-raff?’ Pearson said. ‘These two ought to be far below your notice.’

Although Oberon rarely came in contact with the criminal order, especially such characters as these, that didn’t mean he couldn’t handle them. And he intended to. ‘I want to question them myself.’

‘Personal interest leads to mistakes,’ Pearson reminded him.

Although that was true enough, Oberon didn’t plan on making any mistakes with two minor thieves, even if they turned out to be complete blackguards. ‘I don’t trust anyone else to get the truth,’ Oberon said, shooting his cuffs.

Pearson’s voice, behind him, was dry. ‘And here I suspected you just wanted to give them a bruising.’

‘That, too,’ Oberon admitted, turning to face his valet. ‘I only wish Thad could have a go at them himself.’

‘Why did they give him such a punishing?’

‘They were only going to rough him up a bit more than before,’ Oberon said. ‘But Thad’s new boxing skills turned the scuffle into a mêlée.’

Pearson frowned. ‘Do you have your pistol? Your knives?’

‘Yes,’ Oberon said. ‘And you?’

Despite his grim nod, there was a certain anticipation in Pearson’s expression. And Oberon wondered whether the man would be content strictly with brushing coats and polishing boots in the future. He shook his head.

‘Jones and Thomas will be nearby, should we require any assistance,’ Oberon said. ‘They’re at the Boar’s Head right now keeping an eye on our prey and will haul them off to gaol once I’ve had my chat with them.’

‘Right,’ Pearson said. ‘And your own feelings for…the Suttons won’t affect that conversation at all.’

‘Of course not, Pearson,’ Oberon said, lifting a brow. ‘You know that I am a professional and do not subscribe to unnecessary violence.’

Pearson returned his wry smile with a nod. ‘Well, then, let’s hope they do something to make it necessary.’

Having completed her morning calls, Letitia returned to Sutton House to find the rooms deserted. Even the library was empty except for Randolph, who was tucked in a comfortable chair by a window, bent over a book.

‘Where is everyone?’ Letitia asked, only to see the man start, his reading material falling to the floor with a thud. ‘I can see you are hard at work,’ she said, bending to retrieve the fallen volume.

‘I was simply resting my eyes,’ Randolph replied, with a dignified air.

Letitia read the title with some amusement. ‘And yet I can see how one might doze over A Compleate History of the Queen’s Court, in the original text, no less.’

‘It is a nod,’ Randolph agreed, ‘but I do what I can to help the cause.’

‘And whose cause is that?’ Letitia asked, lifting a brow. ‘It seems you have abandoned mine.’

‘Never, your Grace,’ he said, bowing his head formally.

‘Oh, cease your toadying, for no one would believe it anyway,’ Letitia said, taking a seat nearby. ‘Where is everyone?’

‘Ah,’ he said, smiling coyly. ‘Although I am not privy to all that has happened, I can tell you the whereabouts of some and surmise the whereabouts of others.’

‘What happened? What have I missed?’ Letitia asked, irritated by Randolph’s mysterious manner and his smug expression.

Obviously in his element, he leaned back as if to present the most delicious gossip and Letitia tried not to hope that her son had compromised Miss Sutton. After all, a mother shouldn’t wish for such an occurrence, though it certainly would spur things along…

‘The reason we breakfasted alone is because your son and Miss Sutton had already gone out looking for Mr Sutton, who had vanished from the premises.’

‘What? Why were we not informed?’

Randolph shrugged. ‘Perhaps they were keeping it quiet or they were in a hurry, but Thad has been recovered and now lies in his bed, a bit bruised after an altercation with ruffians.’

Letitia gasped. ‘Who in Philtwell would do such a thing?’

‘A pair of nasty characters from town who learned about the Queen’s Gift from Thad and thought to snatch it for themselves. Since your son and his valet are nowhere to be found, I suspect that they are off to apprehend the culprits, as we speak.’

‘Oberon? Why would he chase after them? And with his valet?’

‘He is the magistrate, is he not?’ Randolph said. ‘And thankfully so, for I fear after this is all over, I will resign the post.’

‘But he might be hurt,’ Letitia said. Although most young bucks dabbled in fencing and boxing for their own amusement, a gentleman was hardly equipped to deal with hardened criminals. ‘Surely he can send others in his stead, who can better handle these thugs.’

‘I’m not so sure,’ Randolph said. He had taken to making such cryptic remarks lately, without any explanation, and Letitia was growing weary of it. She would have told him so, too, if she was not struck by an alarming thought.

‘But if these fellows are responsible for all that has plagued Queen’s Well, then Oberon has no reason to remain here any longer.’ Letitia’s hands tightened upon the arms of her chair, as if the force of her grip could keep everything from slipping through her fingers. ‘What of our hopes for a betrothal? What of my grandchildren?’

‘Future grandchildren,’ Randolph said.

‘Don’t mock me,’ Letitia said. ‘I have wagered all on this and have no more hands to play. Do you think I shall ever see Oberon again once he has returned to London?’

Throughout all of her correspondence and conversations with Randolph, Letitia had maintained a light tone, persuading him to join her in a bit of matchmaking. Never had she let him see just how much it meant to her. Nor had she revealed her desperate hope that a wedding would return to her the son she had once known, who greeted her with warmth, not civility, and visited because of desire, not duty.

‘Hold on, Letty,’ Randolph said, reaching out to pat her arm. ‘All is not yet lost.’

‘How do you know?’ Letitia said, cursing the quaver in her voice.

Randolph removed his hand from her sleeve and sat back with an expression of serene certainty. ‘Because the timing isn’t right.’

‘What? What are you saying?’

‘By the time Thad became interested in the Queen’s Gift, the Pump Room had already been vandalised once, so these two characters, while presumably guilty of assaulting Mr Sutton, cannot be responsible for all that has happened to the well and its owners.’

Letitia felt some of the tension leave her body, though she remained sceptical. ‘But why doesn’t Oberon know that?’

‘Perhaps his usually sharp wits are clouded by his…interest in the case,’ Randolph said. ‘Then again, your son plays his cards close to his chest, so perhaps he is fully aware of the timing of events. In fact, if I were a betting man—’

‘Which you are,’ Letitia pointed out, as hope flickered to life once more.

‘Which I am,’ Randolph amended, smiling coyly, ‘I’d say your son knows exactly what he is doing.’

The afternoon shadows were growing long when Oberon and Pearson reached the Boar’s Head, a tavern on the road to London. Leaving Pearson with a view of the front, Oberon slipped around the building into the alley at the rear, where a dark figure soon stepped from the gloom.

‘Here, sir,’ Jones said, by way of greeting.

‘Good work,’ Oberon said, with a nod. ‘How many entrances?’

‘Just here and at the front,’ Jones said. ‘And our friends are likely to be tossed out of either one soon.’

‘You’ve been plying them with drink?’

‘That, and they’ve been arguing. Apparently, they aren’t quite sure what to do now that they’ve plucked their goose.’

‘Yes, the boy can hardly fetch the prize for them when he’s incapacitated,’ Oberon said, grimly.

Jones nodded. ‘The one calling himself Tommy is eager to cut their losses and head back to town, but after his initial panic, Billy wants to turn around and have another go at it.’

Or at Thad, Oberon thought, frowning. ‘See if you can get them thrown out the rear.’

Jones nodded and slipped back inside the building, while Oberon whistled softly for his valet. Then they both settled in to watch, one on either side of the dark doorway. And they did not have long to wait.

Soon two drunken figures stumbled out of the tavern into the alley, loudly protesting their expulsion and threatening all manner of retaliation.

‘Be quiet unless you wish to be shot,’ Oberon said, quickly garnering their attention.

‘What’s this, a robbery?’ the shorter fellow said, with a snort. ‘You won’t get nothing from us.’

‘It’s not money I want, but information,’ Oberon said.

Again, he managed to get their attention, even through their haze of alcohol. ‘What’s in it for us?’ the taller one asked in a surly tone.

‘You’ll find out.’

The shorter fellow looked like he was going to bolt, but Pearson stepped out of the shadows to reveal that he, too, had a pistol trained upon them. So the Fairmans changed their tune, making a show of their willingness to cooperate, while, no doubt, planning their escape.

When asked about Queen’s Well, however, they maintained their innocence, and it was only after threats of coercion that they finally admitted to having a private dispute with the owner of the well, which was ‘no one else’s business.’

‘Ah, but since I’m a patron of the well, I am most interested in what’s been happening there: vandalism, destruction of property, breaking and entering,’ Oberon said. He looked to Pearson. ‘Is that all?’

‘You’re forgetting the attempted murder upon the crags, your Grace,’ his valet said.

‘Attempted murder?’ one Fairman said, sputtering.

‘Your grace?’ said the other. ‘Who are you?’

‘Let’s just say that I’ve enough power to toss you two into an extremely unpleasant prison for a very long time.’

The Fairmans were eager to speak, then, and they confessed to having a violent argument over past conflicts with Mr Thadeus Sutton. But they claimed they were forced to defend themselves, and no amount of threats or persuasion could get them to admit to anything else. In fact, they professed ignorance of all the other attacks and denied searching for the gift themselves.

‘What do we know about it?’ the one said, with a bark of laughter. ‘How would we go looking for the thing?’

‘That was Thad’s job,’ the other said, muttering about the boy’s inability to do it.

Although disappointing, their claims were not surprising. Oberon had suspected that the Fairmans arrived in Philtwell too late to be responsible for all that had happened. None the less, he had hoped that the mysteries of Queen’s Well could be wrapped up neatly and disposed of with these two characters, but it was not to be.

‘Well, then, I guess this interview is over,’ Oberon said. He whistled for Jones and Thomas, but the Fairmans, having thought they would be released, made their moves. One dived at Pearson’s feet, while the other launched himself at Oberon.

Truth to tell, Oberon was more than happy to oblige the fellow with a bout of fisticuffs. Not only was he eager to avenge Miss Sutton’s brother, but all the frustration and pent-up feelings he had been suppressing for weeks were clamouring for an outlet. Drawing a deep breath, Oberon swung hard, landing a bellier and facer that left Fairman panting and staggering.

But the brother was fighting for his freedom and lurched forwards for more. He was desperate enough to land a few blows, including one that cracked Oberon’s lip, but he was too drunk to move quickly and he finally fell, sprawling, into the dirt, floored at last.

His groan was loud in the ensuing silence, for his brother had long since been subdued. But Oberon had not let anyone else come between him and his opponent. And while his London associates stood gaping at the man they knew only as a convivial host and contact, Oberon stood over the prone Fairman and spoke with no little satisfaction.

‘That was for Thad.’

Glory was pacing. Every once in a while, she slanted a cautious glance towards the bed to make sure that Thad was still asleep, but she continued moving back and forth across the thick carpet in his room. The tray that a maid had brought her stood untouched upon a nearby table; she had long since given up looking out the windows because only darkness lay beyond the panes.

Both the duchess and Mr Pettit had urged her to join them, but she had begged off because of Thad. And, truth to tell, she would not feel comfortable engaging in meaningless banter while Westfield was off somewhere, doing heaven knew what. He had not taken her into his confidence, but Glory strongly suspected that he and his manservant had set off in search of the Fairmans.

Although he was the acting magistrate, Glory had never expected him to go after the criminals himself. And considering the condition her brother was in, Glory felt her concern was justified. Her only comfort was the knowledge that Westfield was not a typical nobleman, and as she paced, she turned her thoughts to the puzzle of just who—or what—he was.

And no matter how far-fetched it was, Glory could only come to one conclusion that would explain his unusual skills, the disparity between his reputation and himself, and the obligations that he could not disclose. The duke was dangerous all right, for he was doing some sort of clandestine work, perhaps even following in Dr Dee’s footsteps to serve his country. Glory bit back a snort of disbelief, and yet… Was Westfield a spy?

The sound of soft footfalls outside Thad’s room made her shiver, and Glory waited, holding her breath, only to loose it in relief when she heard a low knock followed by Westfield’s voice. Rushing to the door, she threw it open and let her gaze travel lovingly over his tall form, whole and solid. But then she saw his mouth.

‘You’re hurt.’

‘What?’ Stepping inside, Westfield strode towards the mirrored dressing table to peer at his reflection. He pulled out a handkerchief to wipe at a streak of blood. ‘Nothing that can’t be cleaned up.’

‘Here, let me,’ Glory said, relieved to see that the injury was minor. Taking the handkerchief, she pushed him into a chair and poured some water. ‘I thought it was Pearson’s job to make sure you were presentable.’

‘It was dark and we were on horseback, so you can hardly fault my valet,’ Westfield said.

Glory shook her head as she dipped the cloth into the bowl. ‘And you simply had to thrash them,’ she said, as she gingerly dabbed at his mouth. ‘Why couldn’t you just have shot them?’

‘You are a bit bloodthirsty, aren’t you?’ Westfield said. ‘I always knew it. From the moment you trained your pistol upon me.’

His eyes darkened as Glory’s thumb brushed against his lip, and he pulled her closer until she was standing between his legs. ‘I knew then,’ he said, softly, taking her face in his hands. ‘I knew then.’

And in that instant, something seemed to have changed between them. As his lips took hers, it felt as though all that had gone before was just a dance, a wary circling that had led up to this moment. And when Glory leaned against him, her fingers stealing into the thick strands of his hair, she felt as though everything had been settled between them.

Even though she knew it had not.

But there were no arguments, no protestations, no excuses, no second thoughts as they kissed—long, deep, indulgent kisses that spread heat throughout her body. There was no talk of obligations or conversation of any kind, their strained breaths the only sound in the silence until a voice rang out from the bed behind them.

‘Did I miss something?’ Thad asked.