Why Mermaids Sing

Chapter 46

Captain Peter Quail occupied a pretty little brick row house on Campden Hill Road, with a shiny black painted front door and a small garden filled with a profusion of late-blooming roses. As Sebastian reined in his chestnuts beside the gate, a delicate-looking young woman with a basket looped over one arm and a pair of secateurs in her hand looked up from deadheading a large shrub near the fence.

Sebastian handed the reins to Tom. “Walk them.”

The woman appeared to be in her midtwenties, with a finely featured face and soft blond curls that tumbled from beneath a straw bonnet tied at her chin with a cherry red ribbon. She wore a lightweight, cherry red spencer over a simple sprigged muslin morning gown, and watched Sebastian’s approach with the wary eyes of a woman whose fragile world has already been rocked too many times by the unpredictable activities of her erratic husband. “Mrs. Quail?” Sebastian asked, politely removing his hat as he opened the low front gate.

“Yes.”

He gave her a reassuring smile. “I’m Lord Devlin. I served in the same regiment as your husband in Portugal. Perhaps you’ve heard him speak of me.”

The wariness in her pale blue eyes receded, and she smiled. “I have heard Peter mention you, yes. How do you do, my lord? What brings you here?”

Sebastian let his gaze drift over the house’s curtained windows. “Is the Captain at home?”

Mrs. Quail closed her secateurs and laid them in the basket of roses. “Why, yes. If you’d like to—”

The front door jerked open to slam against the inside wall with a bang. Captain Quail clattered out onto the small porch and down the steps to advance on them with a quick, long-legged stride. He was only half dressed, the tails of his shirt untucked, the neck half open to reveal a triangle of bare chest.

“What have you told him?” he demanded, his handsome jaw clenched, his eyes hard on his wife’s face.

She took a step back. “Nothing. Lord Devlin just—”

“Get inside,” he ordered, his good arm swinging through the air to point back at the house.

Her face drained pale, then flushed scarlet. She threw Sebastian a quick, mortified glance, then looked away. “Excuse me, my lord.”

Sebastian watched her hurry toward the house, her head bent, and felt his hands curl into fists at his side.

“What are you doing at my house?”

Sebastian brought his gaze back to Quail’s handsome face, with its rugged chin and clear blue eyes and aquiline nose. “You lied to me. You told me you didn’t know Barclay Carmichael, when in fact he won five hundred pounds off you shortly before he was killed.”

The Captain’s jaw tightened. “Get off my property. Now.”

With deliberate slowness, Sebastian settled his hat back on his head and turned toward the gate. “You might warn your wife to expect the constables soon.”

“Constables?” Quail stood in the center of his yard, his empty shirtsleeve flapping in the cool breeze. “Why? I had nothing to do with that man’s death, I tell you. He was killed by the West End Butcher.”

Sebastian paused with one hand on the gate. “You didn’t by any chance have a younger brother, did you? A brother who served as a cabin boy on a merchant ship?”

Quail’s eyes narrowed. “No. What are you talking about?”

“The Harmony.”

“Never heard of it.”

Sebastian studied the man’s closed, hard face, and found only confusion and anger. He turned away.

“You don’t think it’s him, do you?” said Tom, scrambling back up onto his perch as Sebastian took the reins.

Sebastian gave his horses the office to start. “Unfortunately, no. Which means that however much I’d like to kill him, I can’t.”

Kat was peering through the bowed window of a perfumery on Bond Street when she heard a man’s cheery voice say, “Top o’ the morning to you, my lady.”

She swung to find Aiden O’Connell smiling at her with lazy green eyes. “Now you come?” she said.

His smile widened to bring a beguiling dimple to one cheek. “I had to leave town unexpectedly for a few days.” He captured her hand and brought it to his lips in a parody of gallantry. “Forgive me?”

She took her hand back. “No.”

He laughed. “Why did you want to see me?”

He fell into step beside her as she turned to walk up the street, her sunshade held at a crisp angle. “Actually, I was going to suggest you might want to leave the country.”

“Really?” He kept the smile in place, but his gaze sharpened. “Why?”

“Someone was about to betray you to Lord Jarvis.”

The dimple faded. “Who?”

Kat twirled her parasol. “Jarvis gave me a choice: your identity or my life.”

“And so you betrayed me.”

“As it happens, no. Lord Jarvis’s threat to me became known, and it was suggested his own health might suffer as a consequence.”

“Ah. I think I understand. I saw the notice of your approaching nuptials in this morning’s paper. Congratulations.”

“Thank you. But your congratulations are premature.” She swung to face him. “I want your help leaving the country.”

He opened his eyes wide. “Really? And your marriage to Lord Devlin?”

“Would ruin him.”

The Irishman was silent for a moment. Then he said, “You love him that much? That you would go away to save him from himself?”

“Yes.” Turning, she continued up the street. “It’s to your advantage to help me leave. You know that. Without Devlin’s protection I would remain vulnerable to Jarvis.”

“Why do you need my help? Ships leave England from any number of ports every day.”

“Because Jarvis’s men may still be watching the ports. I can’t take that chance—and neither can you. I don’t have much time,” she added impatiently when he said nothing. “The wedding is scheduled for Monday night.”

O’Connell continued studying her in silence for a moment, then let out his breath in a strange sound that could have meant anything. “I’ll see what I can do.”