Larcenous Lady Read Free

promoted himself from crewman to captain upon retirement. Belami’s next item of interest was the counterfeit coin. When the brandy arrived, he said, “If you’re paying with a guinea, I’d like to see it first. I got a counterfeit coin at Dover—indirectly through you, sir. You might have had contact with the infamous Jalbert gang. Do you remember where you got this guinea?” He showed Styger the coin.
    “What’s that you say?” Styger exclaimed, and looked around in alarm. “A counterfeit coin?” He looked so worried Belami took the notion his money was scarce, and the loss of a guinea a matter of some importance. Belami paid for the brandy himself and said, “Could you describe the man you got this guinea from?”
    “Why—I—I really don’t recall. How do you know it came from my pocket?”
    “You were right in front of me at the desk this morning. Do you recall where you got the coin?”
    Styger shook his head. “I was in a game of cards last night with half-a-dozen gentlemen. Tall and short, dark and fair—it might have come from any of them. Why do you ask, sir? Are you a government agent?” He looked askance at Belami’s elegant jacket.
    “Oh, no, just a concerned citizen.”
    “Ah. Well, as I rooked you, let me buy the coin back with genuine money.”
    “I’d prefer to keep it,” Belami said, and turned the conversation to other topics.
    It wasn’t the brandy that did the mischief. Belami rather thought it was the man’s pipe tobacco that was turning his stomach queasy. When the ship gave a lurch that sent their drinks sloshing to the table, Belami rose and said, “I’m going to see how my friend’s making out. I left him in the cabin nursing a bout of seasickness. Nice talking to you, sir.”
    “My pleasure. Do you mind if I have a look at your newspaper?” he asked, as Belami left it on the table.
    “Help yourself. It’s pretty wet from that spilt brandy.”
    “It’ll soon dry,” the captain said, and picked it up.
    By the time Belami reached his cabin, he scarcely had the strength to open the door. He lay on his bunk, wondering why he had ever left firm land.
    On the other side of the ship, the duchess of Charney was asking herself much the same thing as she huddled into the blankets. Deirdre Gower, on the other hand, was as lively as a cricket. It was the first time she had ever left England. Europe spread before her like a fairyland. Paris, Venice, Rome. She’d come home a world-weary sophisticate, dropping phrases in foreign languages. She’d meet princes and potentates—perhaps she’d even have a few affairs.
    When she returned to London, dripping with the glamor of foreign travel and wearing risqué gowns, she’d smile condescendingly on Lord Belami and whatever provincial lady he had married. Then he’d be sorry. He’d be trotting at her heels like a pup, and she’d dismiss him carelessly.
    “Deirdre, bring the bucket!” the duchess called, interrupting her niece’s reverie. And Deirdre brought the bucket.

 

Chapter Two
     
    The crossing that could take three hours under optimum conditions took eight. The duchess made her influence felt at customs and was rushed through with no problem. She had been thoroughly briefed half a century before and knew the Silver Lion was the best posthouse. It was to this place of faded elegance that she took her niece.
    “I’m reduced to a shade after that wretched crossing,” she complained. “We shall have a bite to eat and go up to bed.”
    Deirdre dressed with care for her entrée into cosmopolitan society. A very dashing gown of deep blue silk exposed her arms and shoulders to whistling drafts as the ladies descended to the dining room but created quite a stir amidst the oglers.
    “If your vanity has been satisfied by the admiration of this gaping crew, you might put this nice warm shawl on,” the duchess suggested, placing a decrepit mauve shawl around her niece’s shoulders.
    Deirdre kept it in place till the meal