“Ah, Hartley, that’s a devil of a fearsome glare.” He laughed softly. “You can’t possibly still bear a grudge? It was very like a prank in the old Cambridge days, eh?”
“A prank, you say?”
“I told my driver to drop you on Aldgate High Street that your carriage was being repaired and you had an urgent appointment there. I stressed that he mustn’t bother you with questions or tell anyone. I paid him well to assure he didn’t.”
Apparently, Toovey counted on David’s reluctance to tarnish a hard-earned reputation as well. But then again, the younger man had always been a loose fish. Whether from the effects of too much water pipe or any number of other dissipations in the life of a dissolute nobleman, Toovey seemed increasingly unbalanced of late. And never more so than when he chuckled. “Just the thought of you stumbling around, not even knowing where you were—I haven’t laughed so much since I was a boy. I must say, I didn’t expect you to remain absent for so long.”
“I developed a lung fever.”
Toovey’s grin widened. “And picked up a pretty little tart to nurse you back to health?”
Not liking the sound of that, David scowled. “I was recovering at my house.”
“Liar. You were ensconced with a certain overripe wench, Miss Darling of Wentworth Street.”
Before he could think of where he was, David hand shot out and grasped Toovey by the cravat. The other man’s body went limp as his back hit the wall and he collapsed into a fit of laughter.
“Stay the hell away from her.” David gave Toovey’s throat a warning squeeze then gave him a thorough shaking. “Do you understand me?”
Toovey had never been a fighter. In their more youthful days, when David had challenged him to a duel over Thérèse, Toovey hadn’t shown. Instead, he had used the time to run off to Ireland with Thérèse.
“Good God, Hartley, you’re just as knotty-headed as your father ever was. Oh yes, Thérèse told me all about that part. Your little carnal games with her, and the times when you pushed too hard. Tell me, does your little harlot from the gutter enjoy your games?”
The disarming disgust of hearing Thérèse’s name on Toovey’s lips had caused David to slack his grip on the other man’s neck. Now he tightened it again. “Shut your mouth or I shall shut it permanently.”
“In the House, David? I know you’re bluffing. I know you’ll allow nothing and no one to tarnish your reputation.”
David released him. “You’re not worth killing.”
Toovey fell back, appearing stunned a moment. Then he chuckled softly. “She’s really beneath your usual standard.”
David straightened his jacket and waistcoat. “I didn’t ask for your evaluation.”
Toovey curled his lip, though his gaze still glinted with amusement. “That you would even sully yourself with a slut like her is an insult to dear Thérèse.”
“Stay away from Miss Darling,” David repeated.
Toovey’s eyes narrowed as if in speculation. “Such a murderous rage, over a gutter rat?”
“You’ve been warned.” He released Toovey and walked away.
* * * *
The man had been waiting for Jeanne in the parlor of her boarding house. Neatly dressed in sober colors, he was an elderly man with slate gray eyes who wore his yellow-white hair in an old-fashioned queue.
“Good afternoon, Miss Darling. I am Mr. Packer. I have come here on behalf of a gentleman known to you.”
“Oh.” At the mention of David, her palms went damp. In the week since he had walked out of her life, she’d been up late every night, drinking black tea laced with brandy, and writing. During the days, she slept, and dreamed such vivid scenes. In addition to the final story for the leather-bound collection, three new stories had flown from her imagination to the page. All that remained now was for her to flesh them out.
In this way, she’d avoided thinking about any of the events which occurred during David’s stay.
This reminder wasn’t welcome but she would get it out of the way as expediently as possible.
“Please, let us sit, Mr. Packer.” Jeanne motioned to the old, dusty looking pink settee, the sole piece of furniture in the tiny parlor of her boarding house.
He recoiled slightly. She couldn’t blame him, but she sat as though there were nothing amiss. He slowly followed suit and then pulled a rolled paper from his satchel. “The gentleman wishes to give you some compensation for your trouble.” He unfurled the parchment. “Shall I read it for you, Miss Darling?”