“It has to do with a situation, yes,” Harry said, his beautiful changeable eyes filled with enigma.
Plum, who half expected her conscience to object to going behind her husband’s back rather than enlisting his aid with a problem, was pleased to find that about this, at least, her conscience was quiet. Charles was her problem, and it was her responsibility to see to it that he was taken care of just as Harry was responsible for seeing to the children’s safety.
The similarity of their situations struck her in a manner so profound that Plum was able to kiss the children good night, and wish Harry a pleasant evening without the slightest twinge of guilt. She was doing this for his sake, for all their sakes, and although it was undoubtedly a sin to willingly threaten another person with scandal, Charles was a detestable snake, and no doubt the good Lord would understand her actions.
In fact, Plum reflected a few hours later as she made her escape by a side door of Sir Ben’s house, the ease with which her plan was enacted seemed to be proof of a blessing from on high. She hailed a hack loitering around the square, and ordered him to take her to Green Park. Once there the man was agreeable enough to wait for her return.
“I shouldn’t be long,” she told him as he handed her out of the carriage.
“I’ll wait for ‘owever long ye need me,” the man said.
She smiled and gave him a coin for his trouble. The poor man looked as if he could use it — he actually had a hook in place of his left hand.
Five minutes later the large young man named Nick stepped out from behind one of the trees lining the walk. He was dressed shabbily, but he met her gaze without wavering, and she renewed her intentions to do something to repay him for his kindness in saving the children.
“Lady Rosse? We haven’t been properly introduced. I’m Nick Britton. Do you still wish to go ahead with your plan?”
Plum clutched her reticule nervously. She was not a fool; she knew that ladies who wandered around parks after dark were leaving themselves open to attention from less than desirable individuals, which is why she brought along one of the pistols she had found in the bottom of Harry’s desk. It was a very small pistol to be sure, but she had great faith that it would dissuade anyone who bothered her. Although she probably had nothing to fear from a mere burglar, she would take no chances. The pistol was loaded and ready to be pulled out at the first sign of trouble. “Yes, I do wish to go ahead with it, although with one slight change. I don’t want the man killed. My niece misunderstood my plan, you see, and she thought I was looking for a murderer, when what I really need is someone who will assist me in arranging for a scandal.”
Nick looked startled for a moment, then rubbed a hand across his mouth, mumbling his answer through his fingers. “I see. Yes, that is quite a misunderstanding. I’m sure the…er…individual you have hired will be most interested to hear the truth.”
Plum bit her lip. “You don’t think he’ll be disappointed, do you? I should hate to have a disappointed murderer on my hands. I imagine they are difficult enough to deal with when they are happy.”
Nick bowed his head and looked to the side, where trees threw black shadows so dark that not even the light from the lamps on the street could penetrate it. “I should say that this man will not be in the least bit disappointed, but perhaps I had better let him tell you that in person. Good luck, Lady Rosse.”
Plum watched nervously as Nick left. She had assumed he would stay with her while she met with the murderer, receiving an odd sort of comfort from the knowledge that she wasn’t alone, but that, she said to herself as she reached into the reticule for the pistol, was just how much she knew about the underworld. Evidently one didn’t meet with one’s murderer in the presence of a mere burglar.
“Lady Rosse?”
A man stood in shadow against the tree, his voice rough and uncouth.
“Yes, I am Lady Rosse. Might I know your name?”
“No. The boy tells me you want some gentry cove orfed.”
“Orfed? I’m not sure—”
“Killed.”
“Oh, yes. That is, no, I don’t want a gentleman…er…dispatched. I never did. Well, I did, but I changed my mind almost immediately. I want the gentleman scandalized. I have several scenarios…oh, blast! I left them at home! How could I be so stupid?” Plum stamped her foot with frustration. She had forgotten all about the scenarios in her rush to escape without Harry deciding to join them. “Well, I had several scenarios regarding several means of causing a scandal that would ensure the gentleman hold his tongue, but I shall have to send them to you later. As for your fee—”
The shadow moved, as if he had shifted his weight, leaning against the tree. “You don’t want the man killed?”
“No, of course not! What do you take me for?”
The murderer seemed to be at a loss for a moment, growling a low, “That’s what I was told.”
“Well you were told incorrectly,” Plum answered righteously. “If you are not flexible enough to follow along with this change of plans, I must dismiss you and hire someone a little less obstinate and set in his ways.”
The murderer took a deep breath. “Why do you want to make a scandal about this cove?”
Plum frowned at the man’s tone of impatience, but decided not to make too much of it. Murderers were not known for their pleasant tempers. “That is a private issue, one I do not intend to discuss with you. Your task is to create the situation that will lead to a heinous scandal unless I step in to prohibit it.”
“If it’s so private, why’re you comin’ to me with it? Why don’t you go to your husband? Won’t he take care of a private issue for you?”
“Yes, of course he would, but that’s not the point. My husband is busy at the moment with his own concerns, and I don’t want to burden him with mine.”
The man’s arm moved, as if he was scratching his head. “Seems to me a bloke would want to make that his concern. Don’t you trust your husband?”
“Of course I trust him. I trust him with my life!” Plum made an annoyed sound. “We were not discussing my husband, we were discussing the situation—”
“Know what I think? A wife shouldn’t have secrets from her husband, that’s what I think. Shows a lack of faith in him, it does. Shows she thinks he can’t take care of her.”
“Perhaps in other wives it does, but in my case, it doesn’t. I have the utmost faith and confidence in my husband, but this is something that could harm him and his children, something to do with my past, and I will not have their lives ruined because of me.”
“What’s the gentry cove done to you? Said a few nasty things about you, no doubt?”
Plum shivered. There was something eerie about talking to a faceless man standing in the shadows of the great trees lining the walk. “It’s much, much worse than that. It would bring shame and dishonor to everyone in my family.”
“Maybe you just think it would. Maybe it’s nothing so very terrible at all.”
Plum made a dismissive movement with her hand. “You don’t know anything about it, and frankly, I have no desire to discuss it further. If you do not wish to do the job—”
“I didn’t say I wouldn’t, I just said it seems to me you should have talked to your husband about it. That’s what a husband is for, isn’t it? To help you out when you need it?”
“Perhaps your wife sees you merely as a solution to her problems, but I most certainly do not view my husband in that light. Oh, I admit I did at first, he seemed like such a godsend when I most needed him, but then I realized just how wonderful he is, and I became determined to do everything I could to protect him.”
“That’s a man’s job,” the murderer grumbled.