“I ain’t sayin’ nothin’, boyo.”
“All right, then. Augie, let’s see if you have any more to say when I take you to my brother and we both beat all the wages of sin out of that stupid head of yours. You will tell us what’s going on here.”
Suddenly, with a sharp whistle from Augie, the two men threw their blankets at him, then all of them simply faded back into that malodorous black alley.
Jason got the blankets sloughed off quickly, fired his second bullet, heard a yell. He listened, but couldn’t hear anything more now. He trotted to the head of the alley and stopped. He wasn’t about to go into that alley alone, he wasn’t that big a fool.
Well, damn. He’d not done well.
Where was the man who sold kidney pies? Old ’orace? But Jason knew even before he found the man’s body, one alley away, that they’d killed him before coming after him, cutting off a loose end. He turned to see Peter Marmot running up, late as usual, but with a smile so charming, you didn’t long want to punch him in the nose.
Peter stared down at the dead man, stabbed cleanly through the heart, and cursed.
Jason told him about the three villains. “They’re the same three men who kidnapped James. I’ll wager that this so-called Douglas Sherbrooke sent them after me, only they believed I was James. I didn’t manage to keep hold of them, damn me for an incompetent. This poor old fellow, they gave him a name to repeat until it came to our ears-Georges Cadoudal-then they killed him, because, I suppose, he could identify them.”
Peter said, “Let’s try to find some friends of the poor man, see if perhaps they know anything about Douglas Sherbrooke.”
Jason said slowly, “The fact is, Peter, this Douglas Sherbrooke knows all about Georges Cadoudal, knows that my father is worried about him, and thus it’s his name he uses to draw us out. He’s got to be Cadoudal’s son-but why is he after James in particular? Wouldn’t I do as well if his motive was simply to draw out our father?”
But they didn’t find anyone who would admit to knowing Horace until an urchin, with the help of a sovereign tossed to him from Jason, told them his name was Horace Blank, “ ’E made a fetching kidney pie, allus gave me one. I’ll miss old ’orace. ’E lived ov’r in Bear Alley, up on the third floor, right under the eaves.” And then he bit down on the sovereign, grinned as big as a full moon, and was gone.
They walked to Bear Alley, found Horace Blank’s small lodgings beneath the eaves, and trudged up the narrow dark stairs and went into Horace’s room. The small room was surprisingly clean, with a slatted bed, a small trunk at the bottom of it, and all along the far wall an oven, pans, and many ingredients he used to make his kidney pies. It smelled delicious.
“I never ate one of his pies,” Peter said, and shook his head. “I really don’t like this, Jason.”
They parted company, Peter to gamble at a new gaming hall, owned by a friend of his, so Jason knew he wouldn’t walk out of the place so poor he’d have to shoot himself, and Jason, to return home to change quickly into his evening garb, then off to Lady Radley’s mansion, for a ball. To see Judith McCrae. James had told him about her visit to Corrie and the cinnamon bread farce. “Funnier than anything I’ve seen at Drury Lane,” James said, and Jason wished he’d been there, to snag a slice for himself, maybe right out of Judith’s mouth. Would she bite him? Now there was a lovely thought.
HE WAS GRINNING when he first saw her across the ballroom floor, dancing with young Tommy Barlett, so shy he was staring at Judith’s neck. No, it wasn’t Judith’s neck that held Tommy’s attention. Jason began making his way toward her, speaking to friends and enemies alike, politely nodding to his parents’ friends as well, and smiling at the score of young ladies, and some not so young, who were giving him soulful looks that made him want to run in the opposite direction.
“Hello, Miss McCrae. Hello, Tommy. That is a lovely necklace, isn’t it?”
Tommy Barlett, still breathing in Miss McCrae’s lovely perfume, lust pounding through his young healthy veins, was slow to turn. “Is that you, James? No, it’s you, Jason, isn’t it?”
“Yes, I’m Jason.”
“What necklace?”
“The one you’ve been staring at that Miss McCrae’s wearing. Around her neck. Never once did you look away from that lovely necklace.”
“Oh, I wasn’t-that is, goodness, is that Mr. Taylor I see over there, beckoning to me? Thank you, Miss McCrae for the dance. Jason.” And Tommy was off, nearly galloping across the ballroom.
“What was that all about?” Judith asked, as she stared after Tommy. “He acted like he was scared to death of you.”
“He had good reason to be.”
“Why? You didn’t say anything to him. Come, Jason, what was that all about?”
Jason grinned down at her. “You smell good.”
She came up on her tiptoes and sniffed his throat. “So do you.”
He never knew what she would do next. It was sometimes unnerving, but more often, it was delightful, like now. She’d sniffed him. “Thank you. Tommy would probably have attacked you if I hadn’t intervened.”
“That shy young man? I doubt that very much. The dance was over. You didn’t intervene in anything at all. What was that about my necklace? Did I tell you that it belonged to my mother?”
“No, you didn’t. It’s unique.”
“So Tommy was admiring it. What, pray, is wrong with that?”
“Shy Tommy was staring at your breasts, not your necklace. He was sly, but I could tell.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking up at him. “I thought he was modest, dreadfully shy, not sly. Goodness, a budding young rake?”
“That’s Tommy all right,” Jason said. “I see people coming this way. Let’s dance.”
“The people you’re referring to,” Judith said as he slipped his arm around her and danced her to the middle of the floor, “are all young ladies. After you. Unfortunately they’re clutched together in a gaggle, not at all a good stratagem. Perhaps I could give them other approaches-to circle you, perhaps, or to form a wedge and force you into a corner where they would have their way with you. Lower that supercilious eyebrow. You know very well they’re not coming to see if I know any new gossip or to compliment me on my necklace. Actually, I shouldn’t want to be alone in a dark room with them.”
“Nonsense,” he said. He whirled her around and around until she was laughing, holding on for dear life, and her perfume smelled like-what? Not roses. He didn’t know.
“Oh goodness, there’s Juliette Lorimer frowning at me. She must think you’re James. Can’t she tell you apart?”
“Evidently not,” Jason said, “even though my shoulders are so much broader than my brother’s.” He danced her through a throng of glittering gowns and jewels. So much wealth, she thought, so many beautiful women.
Jason slowed a moment and grinned down at her. “I have heard of your gluttony. I must say that initially I was appalled until James reminded me of the time he and I managed to steal an entire loaf of Twyley Grange cinnamon bread off a windowsill, reverently placed there to cool. James and I split the loaf, and wanted more.”
“I could have eaten the entire loaf-unsliced-in under three minutes. I had a mere taste, only two slices. You should have seen Lord Montague-he actually hid the plate from me behind his back.” And she started laughing. “What a wonderful gentleman he is. And so very handsome.”
“He is going to be my brother’s uncle-in-law. Amazing, that.”
“So Corrie finally succumbed?”