Chaloner was not surprised to learn that he was about to be given a frosty reception — the opportunity to harm him would have been too much of a temptation for Dugdale. He was exasperated, though. Why did the man have to be so petty? Surely someone of his status should be above such antics?
‘Lady Clarendon, Henry Hyde and Sir Alan Brodrick have been waiting, too,’ Edgeman went on. ‘They are also angry with you.’
‘Waiting for me?’ asked Chaloner in surprise. He had never met Clarendon’s wife, Frances, while the son and heir, Henry Hyde, had always made a point of ignoring him, making it clear that ex-Parliamentarian intelligencers were beneath his contempt. Clarendon’s cousin Brodrick liked Chaloner, though — a feeling that was reciprocated — because they shared a love of music.
‘They will be wanting you to deal with some matter that is too sordid for the rest of us,’ predicted Edgeman unpleasantly. ‘Why else would they be so keen to meet the likes of you?’
Unwilling to listen to more of the secretary’s spiteful speculation, Chaloner knocked again, then jumped back smartly when the door was whipped open rather abruptly. Without conscious thought, his hand dropped to his sword.
The man who stood on the other side of the door was in his mid-twenties, with a catlike face and a long, straight nose. He was dressed in a fashionably elegant silk suit with a profusion of lace. He was Clarendon’s eldest son, who revelled in the title of Viscount Cornbury, although most people simply referred to him by his family name of Hyde.
‘Good God!’ he yelped, when he saw the half-drawn weapon. But he recovered himself quickly, and looked Chaloner up and down in disdain. ‘I see you have dressed for the occasion.’
Chaloner felt he could come to dislike Hyde as much as his pompous, overbearing father, and several tart responses flashed into his mind. Fortunately, prudence prevailed, so he said nothing.
‘Enter,’ ordered Hyde, with an unwelcoming scowl. ‘With your blade inside its scabbard, if you would be so kind. We have been expecting you these last two hours.’
As usual, the office had been heated to suffocation point — the Earl believed cold air was bad for his gout, and always kept the chamber wickedly hot. For once, Chaloner did not mind, although he was disconcerted when his clothes began to steam.
‘Have you discovered who is stealing my father’s bricks?’ asked Hyde in an undertone, catching the spy’s arm to hold him back for a moment. ‘Personally, I think he is overreacting. Anyone who builds a house in London should expect a few items to go missing. It is the natural order of things.’
‘Yes and no,’ argued Chaloner. ‘There is a big difference between “a few items going missing” and the regular and sustained pilfering of-’
‘You are wasting your time,’ predicted Hyde. ‘You will not catch the culprit, so you should forget about it and do the job for which you were hired — protecting my father against the many scoundrels at Court who mean him harm.’
‘Willingly,’ said Chaloner. ‘When will you tell him of this decision? Today?’
Hyde glowered. ‘Watch your tongue. My father may overlook your insolence because he thinks he needs your services, but I am not so indulgent. Now follow me.’
The Earl was on one side of the spacious hearth, and his wife was sitting opposite him. Brodrick was next to her, slumped with his head in his hands in a way that implied he was suffering from a serious hangover, while Dugdale perched on a stool at the Earl’s feet. The Chief Usher looked ridiculous there, like a performing monkey, and Chaloner wondered why he had consented to take such a demeaning position.
‘There you are at last,’ muttered Brodrick, while the Earl pointedly ignored Chaloner and continued speaking to Dugdale. ‘Where have you been? Because of your tardiness, I am missing an important meeting with the King.’
Brodrick was generally regarded to be one of the most dissipated men at Court, although the Earl steadfastly refused to believe anything bad about him and never tired in his campaign to secure him a lucrative post. Fortunately for Britain, others could see Brodrick’s failings, and he had so far been denied a government appointment.
‘You are an Adventurer?’ asked Chaloner. He was not surprised. Brodrick was essentially penniless, but that had never prevented him from enjoying an expensive lifestyle, and investing money he did not have in a badly organised venture was certainly something he would do.
Brodrick nodded. ‘On account of the dinners — they are the best in London, and I do like a good evening out.’
‘Did the Adventurers meet last night, then?’ asked Chaloner, taking in Brodrick’s pale face and bloodshot eyes. ‘Or were you at Lady Castlemaine’s-’
‘No,’ interrupted Brodrick, shooting his cousin an uneasy glance. The Earl hated the King’s mistress so much that he could not even bring himself to say her name; she was always just ‘the Lady’. He would certainly not approve of Brodrick enjoying her soirées, although Chaloner knew for a fact that Brodrick was usually the first to arrive and last to leave. ‘I caught a chill at church yesterday.’
‘Our cousin is a very devout man,’ said Frances. She was a soft, motherly creature who had probably never been pretty, but who had such a kind, generous face that Chaloner instinctively liked her. The wry gleam in her eye suggested that she had Brodrick’s measure, even if her husband remained obstinately blind.
‘Ah, Chaloner,’ said the Earl, pretending to notice his gentleman usher’s arrival.
He was a short, plump man, who liked to dress fashionably, which was unfortunate because the profusion of lace, ribbons and ruffles served to accentuate his short neck, ample girth and double chins. That morning he was clad in the sumptuous robes that marked him as the country’s Lord Chancellor, and a yellow wig reached almost to his waist. Chaloner regarded him in astonishment, wondering what he wore at state functions if he attired himself so elaborately when at leisure.
‘Chaloner has donned his best clothes for you today, father,’ said Hyde slyly.
‘I know you have been obliged to lurk at my mansion since you came home,’ said the Earl, eyeing his intelligencer disapprovingly, ‘but Henry is right. Must you dress so shabbily? You look like a ruffian.’
‘It rained all last night, sir,’ Chaloner started to explain. ‘And-’
‘Never mind that,’ interrupted the Earl impatiently. ‘I ordered you to come here without delay, but Dugdale says you ran off on another errand.’
‘Well, he is here now,’ said Frances soothingly. ‘And I applaud his actions. Would you have had him leave poor Cave in the street, like so much rubbish? He did the decent thing.’
‘If you say so, dear.’ The Earl’s voice said he did not agree, but knew better than to argue.
‘Poor Cave,’ said Brodrick. ‘Did you ever hear him sing, cousin? It was the stuff of Heaven, and his voice will be sorely missed. I was only remarking to Lady Castle-’ He cleared his throat uncomfortably, ‘-to a friend last night that the Chapel Royal choir has been much improved since he came home.’
‘I have often heard him sing,’ said Frances, as the Earl, who had not missed Brodrick’s slip of the tongue, frowned his puzzlement at it. ‘Did his killer escape, or is he arrested?’
‘He escaped, but not before Cave stabbed him,’ supplied Dugdale. ‘I had asked Chaloner to prevent violence, but I am afraid he failed rather miserably.’
Frances regarded him coolly. ‘Did he indeed! Then why did you not intervene instead?’
Dugdale regarded her uneasily. ‘Because I am not qualified to meddle in street brawls, My Lady. I am a gentleman.’
‘A gentleman who claims to have fought for the King during the wars,’ pressed Frances. ‘So you cannot be a total stranger to weapons.’
Chaloner watched Dugdale squirm, and found himself liking Frances even more. Of course, Dugdale was likely to remember the humiliation she had inflicted on him, but it would not be her who would pay the price. It would be Chaloner, for witnessing it. The Earl clapped his hands suddenly, causing Brodrick to wince and put a hand to his head.