Somewhat Scandalous (Brambridge Novel 1) by Pearl Darling Page B

Henry flicked a glance to the book that he had confiscated. Agatha thought that no one knew about the jar of jam that she had secreted underneath the brushes and mops the maids had been using to clean the hall and which was now growing an interesting head of mold. Unfortunately she’d chosen the jar of jam that Henry ate with toast on special occasions when he was really upset. He’d been upset quite often since Agatha had come into his house.
    Ames stood in the shadows, accustomed to his master’s silences. After a while Henry gave in.
    “Where did she go?”
    “Well, she ran, my lord. Jumped into a carriage and slithered out underneath.” Ames nodded approvingly. “But then she was robbed, and caught the thief by, err, I believe not punching her.” The whites of Ames’ eyes gleamed in the sunlight as he looked at Henry sideways.
    “Good grief! Not punching her?”
    “I’m not sure you can call it a punch if the person walks into the outstretched arm sir.”
    “Good grief.” She really was rather unexpected. Gods, only at lunch the week before she’d been trying to explain to him the principles of momentum. When he had brought up again his ban on experiments she’d mentioned quite tartly that speaking about science was very different to enacting experimentiae principae.
    So he’d banned speaking about it too.
    “I assume that she is back now?”
    “She is now…”
    “But? Spit it out, Ames.”
    “The owner of the circus—Pablo Moreno—caught her.”
    “Good god, Pablo Moreno!”
    “They had a rather serious conversation that I couldn’t hear.”
    Henry grasped at his chair, tension filling his fingers. “You let her stay alone with that man?” Taking a deep breath, he lifted his hands and gestured impatiently. “Yes, yes, carry on.”
    “She appeared again, and took a hansom cab back here.”
    Henry sighed in relief and tapped heavily on his book. Agatha Beauregard was a handful. She didn’t know how lucky she was to have escaped Pablo Moreno. Bad luck and trouble followed the shadowy man everywhere.
    Ames coughed. “I think, sir, that she is making preparations to go out.”
    Henry raised his eyebrows.
    “Without a maid again, my lord. I err…”
    “Yes?”
    “I saw Pablo Moreno holding a pelisse. One that Miss Anglethorpe normally sports my lord. He didn’t give it back to her. He pointed instead to a large sign that said something about a Grand Salvatore, sir.”
    Henry took a deep breath and looked out at the window and sunshine again. Victoria was very loyal to Agatha. And Agatha was very loyal to her. She would want to get back the bag at all costs. “Ames, rather unusually I require your assistance as a valet tonight.”
    Snapping open his pocket watch, he studied the scrap of paper inside. If only he had never brought her to London. If only Peter was answering his letters. Henry needed to find out more about Agatha. He was drawn to her like a moth to a naked flame. Once she was out of Moreno’s hands and in Fashington’s clutches he would not be able to ever get so close to her again.
    “Very good, sir.” Ames stepped blinking into the sunlight. “And where will you be going, sir?”
    “Vauxhall Gardens.”
    “Vauxhall Gardens? But what about Miss Aggie, sir?”
    “I’m not going there for that kind of thing, Ames.”
    “More’s the pity. You need a good woman, sir.”
    He did. In fact he’d wanted one. But she was not so good at being good in the usual sense of the word. And it seemed to keep landing her in hot water. Blast. She was someone else’s problem now.
    Henry sighed. “That might be difficult, Ames. No. Vauxhall Gardens is where Pablo Moreno is having his grand show tonight.”
    “Oh.”
    “Yes. Apparently his main act, Bertino, otherwise known as Grand Salvatore the knife thrower, is sick and refusing to perform.”
    Ames looked at him admiringly. “How do you know all of this, sir?”
    Henry sighed. “Because Bertino, Ames, is our good old friend,