His smile faded. “Have you not brought it with you?”
I glanced meaningfully at the valet, and Summerville took the hint. “Leave us, Waters.” The valet bowed and departed.
“What are you playing at, Lacey? Where did you find it?”
I ignored his questions, letting my temper rise. “I toyed with the idea of returning it to you—end-first with you bent over, but I decided that would not be practical.”
Summerville flushed. “I do not find that amusing, Lacey.”
“It was not meant to be. Instead, I decided to ask you to make out a draft for one hundred pounds.”
“One hundred—” Summerville gaped. “You are joking. Why the devil do you want a hundred pounds?”
“Fifty of it I will give to Nellie, because she has need of it. The other fifty I will give to Mrs. Chambers for putting up with you. The three hundred you owe to The Nines is between you and Mr. Bates.”
A muscle moved in his jaw. “Very well. I suppose you’ve put yourself out for me today. I will give you your one hundred pounds. A fee, shall we say? For locating the walking stick.”
He insulted me. A gentleman did not fetch and carry for money. I did not react to his suggestion, and Summerville gave up and strode to his writing table. Candlelight shone on his immaculate white neckcloth as he sat down, sharpened a pen, and dipped it into his ink pot. He wrote hastily, the scratching of the pen loud in the stillness.
“There.” He snatched up the paper and nearly threw it at me.
I took the bank draft, examined it, and tucked it into my pocket.
“Thank you. Next month, I will return, and you will write another draft, for the same purpose. And the next month after that.”
“The devil I will. My income is not substantial, Lacey.”
“Better marry your Miss Wright quickly then.”
Summerville slammed himself up from the chair. “You go too far, Lacey. How dare you?”
I eyed him coldly, our heights nearly the same. “If I do not receive the sum of one hundred pounds from you at the first of each month, to be dispersed as I’ve outlined, your walking stick will turn up somewhere far more embarrassing than in the houses of Mrs. Chambers or your brother’s paramour. I know people in many places, Summerville. You would do well not to have your name associated with them.”
Summerville stared in disbelief, then he snarled and lunged at me.
My sword flashed out of my cane. Summerville stopped, looking down at the point of my blade resting against his immaculate cravat.
“Stand at ease, Lieutenant,” I said quietly. “Or do you want to ruin your suit?”
“Blast you, Lacey. You’re nobody. You always were nobody. How dare you?”
“I am a gentleman of the Thirty-Fifth Light,” I said. “Who are you?”
“I am a gentleman who will have the power to ruin you in a few years’ time.”
I made a frosty bow. “Then for a few years at least, you will do some good by these ladies.” I sheathed the sword. “Good night, Mr. Summerville.”
I left him cursing as I walked out of the room and hobbled back down the stairs and into the rain.
***
The next afternoon, I found Lady Breckenridge at Lady Aline Carrington’s garden party, as I had known I would. The rain had gone, and the sun shone at last, chased away from time to time by a breath of cloud.
“There you are, Gabriel,” Donata Breckenridge said as I walked to her. “Thank God. Sir Neville Percy has been following me about in attempt to engage me in conversation, and he is so very bad at it. Pretty to look at is Sir Neville, but a ghastly bore. He ought to stand under an arch for full effect and keep his mouth closed.”
“I am pleased to be of some use to you,” I said, making a bow.
“Do not be sardonic, Lacey; it doesn’t suit you. Leave the mockery to me.” She smiled as she spoke, a genuine smile, and warmth stole through the chill I’d carried since leaving Mrs. Chambers’s house the evening before.
