Sharpe frowned. ‘Can I ask what you propose to do, sir?’
‘Do?’ Lawford snapped the notebook shut. ‘The proper thing, the clever thing. A few quiet words, Richard, here and there. Thank God Parliament’s recessed so we can keep the whole damned mess secret. And you, Richard,’ he stabbed at Sharpe with his fresh cigar, ‘are going to do nothing. You will keep quiet. No stirring up the enemy from the skirmish line? This is London, not Spain!’ He laughed. ‘Perhaps we can tempt you to dine one evening? Lady Lawford would never forgive me if I didn’t snare you for one night.’
‘That’s kind of you, sir.’
‘Nonsense!’ Lawford smiled. ‘Just leave it all to me, Richard!’ He picked up a strawberry left over from luncheon and popped it into his mouth. ‘Just leave it to me.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Lord Fenner met his guest in the library. His Lordship was not pleased.
Lord Fenner was in the habit of asking the Lady Camoynes to visit him in the early evening, thus leaving his nights free for the pursuit of other pleasures. This evening, as Lord Fenner closed the library door, the Lady Camoynes waited upstairs and Lord Fenner, instead of watching her undress, was forced to be polite to this unexpected and unwelcome guest. ‘I usually take a glass of brandy at this hour. You’ll join me?’
Sir William Lawford smiled his assent. He appraised the pictures that hung between the shelves, noting a fine small drawing of ships at sea and a very good Reynolds. ‘Your mother?’
‘Yes,’ Lord Fenner had barked his order for the brandy. ‘You said this business was urgent, Sir William?’
‘I would hardly disturb your Lordship otherwise.’ Lawford ignored his host’s barely disguised rudeness, admiring instead a Roman bust of a woman with tightly rolled hair. Everything about this room, from its books to its fine hand-painted Chinese wallpaper, testified to the exquisite taste and wealth of Lord Fenner. Lawford accepted his brandy, waited until the steward had left, then sat in the chair Fenner offered. ‘Your Lordship’s most excellent health.’
‘And yours.’ Fenner sat down. He was dressed in a black suit, with a white silk waistcoat and stock. He tried to guess, from Lawford’s demeanour, just what kind of business was so urgent as to preclude an appointment, but the younger man’s face was unreadable. Fenner was remembering what he knew of Lawford; an ex-soldier who now sat in the Government’s interest on the green-leather benches of the House of Commons. Fenner crossed his legs and brushed at a boot-tassel. ‘You’ll forgive me, Sir William, if I tell you that I have other engagements this evening?’
‘Quite so,’ Lawford smiled. ‘I think you’ll hear me out, though. We both, after all, share an interest in making certain that no scandal disturbs our administration? This is very good brandy! My smugglers bring in a most inferior article.’
‘You spoke of scandal.’
Lawford stared at the thin, pale face with its aquiline nose. ‘Girdwood, Foulness, auctions. You permit me to smoke?’
Lord Fenner was too astonished to offer or refuse permission. He said nothing until Lawford had cut and lit a cigar with his one hand, then he made his nasal voice deliberately calm. ‘You confuse me, Sir William.’
‘Confuse you?’
‘You play at riddles like a child.’
Lawford shrugged apologetically. He was nervous. This handsome lord, a government minister, conveyed such an air of elegant gravity that it seemed unthinkable that he should be bound up in so squalid an affair as Foulness. Lawford smiled. ‘I do not, for one moment, sir, imagine that you know of what I speak. Let us, though, assume that you have some influence over those who might? Sir Henry Simmerson, perhaps?’
Lord Fenner showed none of the relief that he felt. Lawford was showing his cards, and though the first cards had horrified Fenner, this last demonstrated that Sir William did not seek his disgrace. Fenner’s voice was still cold and toneless. ‘We can assume that, Sir William.’
Lawford, who had half-expected to be forcibly ejected from the house, even challenged to a duel, knew now that Sharpe’s accusations were right. Lord Fenner had admitted nothing, but the very fact that he would talk proclaimed that there was much to admit. Sir William rested his cigar to take up the brandy. ‘Should news of Sir Henry’s peculations at Foulness become public, my Lord, I need hardly tell you the result.’ Nor did he; another scandal to rock the government, cries of treason, of corruption, of demands for enquiries and God knows what else.