there
is nothing you could have done without insulting O’Kelly.”
When the trio rapped at the door, the footman only had to
glance at their rich dress before shepherding them straight into
the main reception room, hazy with pipe smoke, redolent of the
free-flowing liquor, and resounding with raucous laughter and
the rattle of dice boxes.
Ned heaved a great sigh as his gaze skirted the room. “I must
say my sympathy is with Diana. All we can do now is serve her
best interests by extracting the hapless sheep from the wolf’s den.”
Ned and Hew circulated the rooms in search of Lord Regi-
nald while DeVere sought out the master of the house. He found
his quarry, O’Kelly, presiding over the hazard table. He sketched
the shallowest of bows. “A private word with you, sir?”
“By Jaysus,” O’Kelly exclaimed, slapping his thigh. “If isn’t
his eminence the Viscount himself paying a call on his lowly neigh-
bor!”DeVere ignored the sarcasm. “If I have been negligent, sir, I
meant no slight. I am only just come down from London and have
been much occupied with guests of my own, one of whom ap-
pears to have gone astray.”
32
Victoria Vane
“Astray? An interesting choice of words, your lardship.”
DeVere’s gaze casually tracked the room.”Perhaps we could
speak of it in a less public sphere?”
“Why, anything to oblige my neighbor, ” said O’Kelly with
obsequious joviality. “Like any fine jontlemen, I have a study to
conduct my business affairs.”
“Then pray, let us repair to it.”
Nodding to the groom-porter, O’Kelly gave up the dice box
and beckoned DeVere to follow. They entered the man’s private
study. “Perhaps you would care to have a drink with me, Lard
DeVere? I’ll brook no refusal, you know. What will it be? Brandy?
Port? Madeira? I have only the finest in my cellar.”
“So I hear,” DeVere stroked the Irishman’s self-conceit. While
impatient to be about his business, he knew he had to handle the
adventurer with considerable tact. “A good brandy would not go
astray.” Lounging in a large, leather chair, he accepted the glass
and took an appreciative sip. “Fine brandy, indeed.”
O’Kelly nodded and with a grunt settled his considerable
bulk into a chair opposite. “You came searching for someone?”
“Just so. And while I ascribe to the philosophy of letting each
man go to the devil his own way, I tend to take exception when I
must play host to said gentleman’s fretful wife.”
“Ah! A shrew-wife! It all becomes clear now. No wonder the
man sought escape.”
“Is he here then? The Baron Palmerston-Wriothesley?”
“Aye, but I fear Lard Reggie has already wearied of my hos-
pitality.”
“Wearied, you say? Mayhap it’s the exhaustion of his pockets
that’s to blame?” DeVere remarked with a knowing smile.
O’Kelly returned a conspiratorial look and a great gap-
toothed laugh. “It costs a great deal to keep such a great house
and fine stables as these.”
“Indeed, it does,” DeVere agreed. “How much, O’Kelly?” he
asked, the smile lingering on his mouth but disappearing from
his eyes.
O’Kelly’s gaze took on a hard, calculating look. “ That is a pri-
vate matter between jontlemen, yer lardship.”
“I am sensitive to your honorable discretion in the matter, but
the gentleman in question is kinsman to my closest friend. Thus,
33
I only endeavor to save embarrassment to all. Perhaps you might
permit me to buy his vowels?”
“A fine and generous offer, but perhaps your lardship might
wish to know the amount of the debt before making such a
pledge?”
DeVere steepled his fingers. “It is so extensive?”
“I fear the jontlemen has no luck at all with the dice. Three
thousand guineas lost at Hazard. Had to send to his banker. Some
business about a deed as surety on the debt.” O’Kelly waved his
fleshy hand in a dismissive gesture as if the money meant little.
DeVere knew