“I-I beg your p-pardon.” She leaned down and grabbed the waistcoat, taking care to hold it upside down and give it a good shake before offering it to Lord Sydney again.
The bit of wax rolled obligingly from the pocket, and landed near the tip of Lord Sydney’s boot.
Neither Isla or Hyacinth moved, or even dared draw a breath.
“What’s this?” Lord Sydney reached down and picked up the wax. He studied it for a moment, puzzled, then held it up to the light to get a closer look. “Well, I’ll be damned.” He turned on Lord Dixon, his face dark with rage. “Not just a debaucher, Dixon, but a cheat as well?”
Lord Dixon made some sort of gurgling noise—a protest, Hyacinth assumed—but it was already too late.
“A cheat?” Ciaran took the piece of wax from Lord Sydney and squinted at it, his brow creased. “What the devil is this?”
“Paraffin wax.” Lord Sydney took the wax back from Ciaran and closed it tight in his fist. “For marking cards.”
“I never cheated! It’s not mine, Sydney,” Lord Dixon protested in a scratchy, rasping voice.
“I see. There must be some other reasonable explanation for its presence in the pocket of your waistcoat, then? Christ, I can’t believe I didn’t realize it sooner. No one’s that bloody lucky at cards.”
“Sheput it there!” Lord Dixon pointed an accusing finger at Hyacinth.
Lord Sydney let out an incredulous laugh. “Miss Somerset? My God, Sydney. You expect me to believe a gently bred young lady like Miss Somerset knows so much about marking cards she sneaked a piece of wax into your pocket to implicate you? You’ve lost your bloody wits.”
Lord Dixon was growing desperate. “For God’s sake, Sydney, why do you think she lured me down here in the first place? Think, man! Do you suppose you stumbled upon us by accident?” He jerked his head toward Isla. “These two planned the entire thing! It’s obvious what happened—”
“Are you calling my sister a liar, Dixon?” Ciaran thrust his face into Dixon’s. “My sister,andmy sister-in-law?”
Dixon stumbled back a step. “I—”
“I don’t understand, Lord Dixon.” Hyacinth clasped her hands in front of her, and looked around the room, her eyes wide. “Why should I wish to put wax, of all things, into your waistcoat pocket?”
Lord Sydney gave a grim laugh. “I suppose your uncommon luck at the card tables is also Miss Somerset’s and Miss Ramsey’s fault, eh, Dixon?”
“I’m telling you, Sydney, the wax isn’t mine!”
Lord Sydney tucked the incriminating piece of wax into his pocket, and studied Dixon for a moment with narrowed eyes. “Very well, Dixon, since you’re so insistent upon your innocence, why don’t we adjourn to the card room this minute, and you can explain yourself to every gentleman there whose money you’ve taken. Of course, I’ll be obliged to show them this.” Lord Sydney patted his pocket. “And to tell them where I found it, but I’m certain they’ll all believe you when you claim it was simply a trick of Miss Somerset’s and Miss Ramsey’s.”
Lord Dixon’s face grew increasingly pale with each of Lord Sydney’s words. He didn’t say anything for quite some time, but at last, he shook his head.
“Is that a no, Dixon?” Lord Sydney asked. “Well, how curious that option shouldn’t appeal to you. I can’t think why you wouldn’t choose to clear your good name, but no matter. I have another idea, and perhaps you’ll like this one better. What if I take you to your lodgings, allow you fifteen minutes to collect whatever paltry belongings you can’t do without, and then see you out of London on the next stage?”
Lord Dixon glanced at Lachlan, then at Ciaran, and then for one long, unnerving minute, he stared hard at Hyacinth, but at last he met Lord Sydney’s eyes, and gave a brief nod.
“Ah, good. So glad that’s settled. Oh, but one thing, Dixon, before we go. If you did try to return to London, I’d be forced to reveal this business about the wax to my friends. I’m afraid it would get about rather quickly, and would give rise to some unpleasantness. Duels, you know, or worse, perhaps. That would be a great pity, wouldn’t it? Now, I’ve nothing to do with this business between you and the Ramseys—something about a secret, I believe it was? Mr. Ramsey has given his permission for you to spread his family’s business far and wide, and that’s naught to do with me, but it’s odd, isn’t it, how rumors tend to breed more rumors? And I’ve found—perhaps you’ve found this as well, Dixon—that people are far less likely to believe the word of a cheat.”
There wasn’t anything Lord Dixon could say to that. He held his tongue as Lord Sydney turned and offered Isla a formal bow. “Miss Ramsey, it was my pleasure to have your company this evening. May I call on you tomorrow, to enquire after your health?”
Isla was beaming at him. “Of course, my lord. I’ll look forward—”
“No. I’m afraid that won’t be possible.”
Every head snapped towards Lachlan.
“My apologies, Sydney, but we’re leaving London tomorrow, for Huntington Lodge. My sister will welcome your visit when we return.”
“I see.” Lord Sydney glanced at Isla. “When will that be?”
“Not before the end of the season.”
“What? You mean to say Isla’s season is over?” Hyacinth forced herself to face Lachlan. “But—”
