Lord of Scoundrels - Loretta Chase [131]
After the moment it took him to comprehend, Vawtry went to pieces. "Find her?" he cried, looking wildly about him. "Marry her? How? Gad, can't you see? I wouldn't have got into this if I weren't three paces ahead of the bailiffs. I've nothing, Dain. Less than that." He groaned. "Five thousand less, to be precise. I'm ruined. Don't you see? I wouldn't have come to Devon at all if Beaumont hadn't told me I could win a fortune at the wrestling match."
"Beaumont?" Dain repeated.
Vawtry didn't heed him. "Fortune, indeed. With those buffle-headed amateurs. Do you believe it?" He raked his fingers through his hair. "He was roasting me, the swine. 'Greatest match since Cann and Polkinghorne,' he said."
"Beaumont," Dain said again.
"Twenty thousand, he told me the thing was worth," Vawtry went on miserably. "But he was roasting me about that, too, wasn't he? Said he knew a Russian who'd sell his firstborn for it. And I believed him."
"So it wasn't Bertie Trent who put the idea in your head, after all, but Beaumont," Dain said. "I might have known. He bears me a grudge," he explained to the bewildered Vawtry.
"A grudge? But why pick on me?"
"To make you resentful of me, in hopes of creating ill will between us, I suppose," Dain said. "That he could add to your miseries at the same time simply made the business more delightful for him," Dain frowned. "He's nothing more than a sneaking troublemaker. He hasn't the nerve to seek revenge like a man. Which makes it all the more annoying that he has succeeded in his spiteful game far beyond his wildest dreams." His frown deepened. "I might have had you hanged. And he would have laughed himself sick."
While Vawtry was trying to digest this, Dain took a slow turn about the small room, reflecting.
"I believe I will pay your debts, Vawtry," he said finally.
"You'll what?"
"I will also make you a modest annual allowance," Dain went on. "For services rendered." He paused and folded his hands behind his back. "You see, my very dear, very loyal friend, I had no idea how valuable my icon was…until you told me. I had actually planned to give it to Mrs. Beaumont, in exchange for a portrait of my wife. Jessica had told me how much Mrs. Beaumont admired the icon. I thought it would be a more pleasing reward to the artist than mere coins." Dain smiled faintly. "But no portrait, even by the brilliant Leila Beaumont, is worth twenty thousand quid, is it?"
Vawtry had finally caught on. His battered face was creasing into a smile.
"Naturally, you will write to Beaumont, thanking him for sharing the information," Dain said. "It would be the polite thing to do. And naturally, as your very dear friend, he will be unselfishly delighted that you were able to profit from his wisdom."
"He'll be tearing his hair out when he reads it," Vawtry said. Then he flushed. "Pox take me, Dain, I hardly know what to say or think. Everything— gone so wrong— yet you've found a way to turn it right, in spite of what I did. If you'd dropped me into the nearest bog, there's not a fellow in England who'd blame you."
"If you do not keep that infernal female out of my way, I'll drop you both into a bog," Dain promised. He moved to the door. "Phelps will find someone to patch you up. I'll send one of the servants along to you with travel funds. And by the time the sun comes up, I will expect you to be gone, Vawtry."
"Yes, yes, of course. Thank— "
The door slammed behind Dain.
Chapter 20
At two o'clock in the morning, Lord Dain emerged from his bath. Then he was obliged to don his dressing gown and slippers and look for his wife because, as he might have expected, she was not in bed, where she was supposed to be.
He tried the South Tower first, but she was not hovering at Dominick's bedside. Mary was there, dozing in a chair. The boy was sound asleep, sprawled on his belly, the bedclothes kicked into a heap at the foot of the bed.
Grumbling under his breath,