Two other members of the RR Coaching Company were seated around the long walnut dining table. Almost every inch of its surface was covered in knife marks, but at least it was now kept clean. Stephen was lounging on a nearby Chesterfield sofa.
“Morning all,” Harry said.
Stephen gave him a chin tip. Monsale and George each lifted a finger. The only member of the Rogues of the Road absent this morning was Gus. He and the coach were currently somewhere between London and Portsmouth, bringing in another illegal shipment from France.
Monsale stepped away from the table and came to greet his fellow rogue. They shook hands, after which Harry handed over a small bag of coins. “My contribution to the rent. I should have more money by the end of the week.”
Monsale tucked the bag into his coat pocket. “How did the ball go last night? Did you make much headway with the North sisters?”
Harry shrugged. It was rare for him to reveal much of his current projects, but for the notional leader of the band of miscreants, he would make an exception. He had asked Monsale to help with some of the preliminary investigations.
“I got a good look at Cuthbert Saint; he strikes me as a rotten little shit who needs some violence brought upon his person. And of course, Patience North is utterly besotted with him,” he replied.
Monsale turned up his nose. “What about the other sister? The one who engaged your services? Could you make use of her?”
Now there is a double entendre just waiting to be spoken.
Harry had thoroughly kissed Alice last night, but he was still a gentleman. He may well be thinking of what he would like to use her for, but he wouldn’t dare give it voice. “She has a sensible head on her shoulders and is determined to separate the two young lovers. It turns out the North parents are some free-spirited new money romantics who think nothing of leaving their unwed daughters in England while they trip off to Europe for a grand tour.”
George tutted his disgust. His father was a member of the judiciary, and as a result, George was probably the most traditional thinker of the group. If anyone wanted to know how society would view their misdeeds if they ever came to light, they could rely upon him. What his magistrate father would say if he were ever to discover his son’s career as a professional thief was, of course, another matter.
“What is your plan?” asked George.
Harry had been mulling a few details in his mind during the journey over from Grosvenor Street. Picking holes in Cuthbert’s history seemed the obvious one.
“I’m going to press Miss Alice into service, and through her, get close to our Mister Saint. A few difficult questions dropped in at the pertinent time should give him something to worry about. From the way the younger North sister was staring all doe-eyed at him last night, I think the sooner I move the better.”
Stephen rose from the sofa and gave a yawn. “Which means, you will be thinking to pay a visit to Cuthbert Saint’s current place of residence. I have managed to locate him at the Grand Hotel in Covent Garden.”
Harry let out a low whistle. The Grand Hotel was one of London’s premier establishments. A man would need coin to be able to stay in such a fine place.
“That’s interesting. If he can afford the Grand, one has to ponder the question of how he is funding himself right now. I will do some more digging and see what I can find. Meanwhile, I sent word this morning to Miss Alice, asking her to bring her sister to a charity do this evening,” he replied.
“I thought you avoided charity events like the plague,” said Stephen.
“Yes, well, I’m not exactly flush with funds,” replied Harry.
Monsale sighed and put his hand into his coat pocket, retrieving the coin purse. He handed it back to Harry. “For heaven’s sake, man, make sure you hand that over when you get in the front door. It doesn’t look good for one’s image if you appear to be miserly with your money.”
The Duke of Monsale was always far more concerned with keeping up the appearance of wealth than the rest of the group, something which Harry often put to good use. He took the money. “Alright. I shall make certain that people see me parting with coins. But I still consider this month’s rent paid.”
After a quick drink, he hurried back downstairs, eager to follow up on Stephen’s lead and visit the Grand Hotel.
Tossing the bag of coins in the air, he chuckled. “Two birds, one stone.”
He had money for the charity donation; now he just had to get Miss Alice North to agree with his plans and hand over more of her lovely coin.
I wonder if she might throw another kiss in with the bargain?
Harry headed for the stables and his horse. Thoughts of Alice and the delight of spending yet another evening in her company would have to wait. Right now, he had another matter to concern himself with—Mister Cuthbert Saint and his lavish lifestyle. Why would a man with apparent means be haunting Patience North’s footsteps?
He snorted at the obvious answer. “Because one can never have too much money.”
Chapter 7
The Grand Hotel, Covent Garden, was a favorite of the ton, and certainly lived up to its name. It offered the sort of lavish suites that few other hotels in London did. Many well-to-do families stayed there when visiting town.
Even the rear mews, where coaches and horses were stabled, were of a higher standard than what was normally found in the usual run-of-the-mill coaching and travel inns. It cost Harry the princely sum of a shilling to tip the stable boy. He was still grumbling about the coin as he made his way inside.
Then he caught sight of the hotel foyer and his eyes lit up.
Oh, this is rather nice. Reminds me of home.
His gaze took in the deep green-and-gold-striped carpets, as well as the matching drapes. From the style of the elegant silver chandeliers which lit the foyer, Harry was certain the hotel had engaged the same overpriced decorator his mother had used to refurbish her grand drawing room at Redditch House.
The place oozed money. It was exactly where a man hoping to create a façade of wealth would choose to stay.
A footman hurried over and greeted him. “Good morning, sir. May I have your luggage brought in from your coach?”
“Thank you, no. I am here to visit a friend who is staying at the hotel. A Mister Saint,” he replied.
“Ah, of course. Should I have a note sent up to him to let him know you have arrived?”
“Well, actually, this visit was a bit of a spur-of-the-moment thing. So, my friend isn’t expecting me. If you let me know which room he is in, I could just nip upstairs and give him a big surprise.” Harry dug into his coat pocket and withdrew a shilling. He handed it to the footman who, after taking one look at it, promptly cleared his throat. Harry sighed, and with great reluctance, reached into his pocket and retrieved a second coin.
Two shillings. I could buy a pair of stockings for that!
“Mister Saint is in room one hundred and twelve. If you take the stairs and turn right at the top, you will find his room located along the hall,” replied the footman, slipping the coins into his waistcoat.
Harry and his ever-decreasing purse quickly headed upstairs. He found Cuthbert Saint’s room soon enough—but kept walking as he passed.
The door suddenly opened, and he barely had time to scoot into a nearby alcove before Cuthbert stepped out. He closed the door behind him and locked it. Harry risked a peek from his hiding spot and caught a glimpse of Cuthbert’s back as he made his way to the stairs.