Gideon hesitated, then drew a crumpled paper from his pocket. “This was delivered by a street urchin this morning, sir.”
Sir Mark took it, and read aloud, “These to Captain Gideon Rossiter: London has not forgot how to deal with men of dishonour. If you wish to live to dwell with your father in Newgate, you will not force Lady Lutonville to endure the shame of your escort. You will instead return what you stole. Be warned. Keep away from the Glendenning Ball.”
There was a moment of silence. Then Newby clicked his tongue. “Stealing? A harsh word, twin. Do tell us what you have purloined.”
“I’ve not the remotest notion. I can only think that either something I bought in the Low Countries was of greater value than I believed, or that someone mistakes me for another.”
Sir Mark said heavily, “Pah! ’Tis so much fustian, designed to cloud the real issue. But in the face of such threats a gentleman has no choice. Tell Wilson at what time you wish the carriage to be brought round, Gideon.”
“Thank you, sir. But since you now keep just the one coach I’ll not deprive you of it. My man will hire a carriage.”
Sir Mark nodded, and walked out. At the door, he turned back, a weariness in his eyes. “Have a care, boy. Likely some enemy seeks to avenge himself on me by striking at you.”
Touched, Gideon said with a grin, “Never worry, sir. I survived the war. I fancy I’ll live through the peace.”
Newby straightened as Sir Mark walked into the hall and out of earshot. “Clever of you,” he murmured, “tochanceto stand in exactly the right place to catch the fair lady’s bouquet. Or was it contrived, perhaps? A way for you and she to—ah, frolic in some secluded ante room and outwit my poor dense dolt of a sire?”
He recoiled abruptly, his sneer fading into consternation as Gideon turned his dark head. The eyes were narrowed, the mouth a thin line and there was a set to the jaw that Newby had for a time forgotten.
“I strive to hold my temper with you,” said Gideon very softly, “because despite your spite and sniping, my father is fond of you. And because you are kind to Gwen.” His hand shot out and clamped about Newby’s wrist. “But I warn you, spread any more of your slander about me, or about Lady Lutonville, and I shall indulge my natural instincts and give you the thrashing you warrant.”
“You do not know ’twas me.” Newby’s eyes were frightened. “Curse you, you are tearing my laces!” He swung up the slipper menacingly. “Stay back!”
Gideon laughed. “A fine weapon for a man! But not quite your size, is it?”
“Oh, very witty. But you’d give a deal to know where I got it, wouldn’t you?”
“Would I?” Gideon relaxed his grip, and knowing his brother, shrugged, and said uninterestedly, “We have little in common, twin. I have no taste for gossip.”
Newby was massaging his wrist tenderly, but a crafty expression replaced the resentment in his face and he said, “I was in the vicinity of the Dowling house last evening, and I wandered around to the back so I might look into the ballroom. I thought ’twould be such fun to see our gallant fighting man draw some of the treatment I’ve had to endure these past months.”
“You must have enjoyed yourself,” said Gideon with disgust.
“Prodigiously. And even more so when this interesting article”—he waved the slipper—“came sailing through the air and barely missed me.”
Gideon’s brows went up. “Do you say a lady hurled her slipper at you? Who was this resourceful female?”
His thoughts on the event, Newby did not heed his brother’s sarcasm. “Unhappily ’twas too dark for me to see. I waited for someone to reclaim it, for certainly it has a value. But since it very likely fell from a bedchamber…” He grinned suggestively. “The lady must have been—otherwise engaged…”
“A hot-blooded wench, evidently. I’ve the fancy you mean to benefit from your little adventure. How? Even were you to advertise that you have found her lost property, she would scarce dare claim it. And if you sell that pretty thing for the gems in the heel I doubt ’twould bring very much at the pawnbroker. I’ve heard they only use second-rate jewels in—”
“Give me credit for more ingenuity,” said Newby smugly. “The lady who lost this left her reputation behind. Only think how grateful she must be an ’tis discreetly returned. All I’ve to do is discover which fair creature owns such a shoe, and I may win far more than any pawnbroker would pay me.”
Contemptuous, Gideon drawled, “As ever, you are all gallantry.” He walked out of the room, leaving Newby hot with rage but also reminded that one could push his twin only so far, and that despite his injuries those slim hands were still incredibly strong.
Morris was dozing in the window seat when Gideon returned to his small parlour. There was no sign of his valet, and he was obliged to summon Bernard, their solitary footman, who reported that Mr. Tummet was gone out in the carriage with Miss Gwendolyn.
Gideon stared at the bland face, wondering why the deuce Gwen would have commandeered his unconventional valet.
The question was still at the back of his mind when he accompanied Morris down the front steps to where a sweating boy held their horses. He pulled on his gauntlets, glancing without admiration at the antics of Morris’ highly strung thoroughbred. “Can you control that nervous nag or shall you have to carry him?”
“I’ll have you know,” panted the lieutenant, “that Windsong is a real goer and cost me a pretty penny! Wait ’til you see him run. He all but flies!”
“I do not doubt it. I’ve yet to see him rest more than two hooves on the ground at the same time. He should have been named Whirligig not Windsong!” Stifling a smile at his friend’s indignation, he said, “At least, the rain has blown over. Whereabouts is this flat of yours?”
“Off Clarges Street. But I ain’t going there just now, dear boy. Thought I’d drop in on Falcon.”
Frowning, Gideon swung into the saddle. “Not very good form, is it? Surely you can arrange your meeting after he and I have fought.”
