Becket's Last Stand Read Online Free PDF Page B

expression. "Yes, yes, shall we all drink a toast to the memory of the dear Earl of Chelfham, who destroyed a most profitable enterprise for us all with his stupidity and greed. Who is to say if the ending of the war wouldn't have been different if the Red Men Gang had been able to keep up its guinea runs these past years. Not being able to pay his soldiers was not the greatest of our friend Bonaparte's problems, but it certainly had an impact. Although we've all learned a valuable lesson, haven't we, gentlemen?"
     
     
"Not to back the wrong horse," Mr. Roberts said, and then once again bit his lips together, as if regretting his words.
     
     
"Yes, that, as well," Beales agreed, smiling thinly. "But I was referring to Lord Chelfham's belief that he could hoodwink me, try to steal from me. From me, gentlemen— can you imagine? I only regret being unable to get to him sooner, ease the pain of his incarceration and his guilt over his betrayal of the rest of us. But when at last the opportunity presented itself, I made certain it was a stout rope. Do you think he was grateful for the time, effort, and considerable expense I incurred having someone insinuated into his lordship's plush prison? I've wondered about that, or if he still thought his pitiful life worth living. And yet, I feel I owe the man something for the services he did render me in the past, which is why you are here. Gentlemen? Some wine?"
     
     
"I'll get us some," Mr. Roberts volunteered, jumping up from his chair to play at servant. "Over there, yes?" he asked, pointing to the lavish drinks table set up in one corner of the large study.
     
     
"Ah, Francis," Beales purred, placing a few small dark green leaves between his teeth and cheek. "Still the master of the obvious, I see. None for me, thank you. I long ago found my own way to paradise."
     
     
Beales chewed on the coca leaves, releasing their invigorating, mind-expanding juices as he watched Francis Roberts pull the lead crystal stopper from the decanter and then fill two glasses, spilling only a few drops in his nervousness. Once the gentlemen had been served and Roberts was back in his chair, a careful, two-handed grip on the fragile glass, he said, "And so, delighted as I am to see you both again, I'm afraid this meeting of ours is not purely social. There is— "
     
     
"Mr. Beatty?" Sir Horatio cut in, raising his hand like some slow-witted student unable to understand the simplicity of two plus two. "You don't mean to take up where, well, where we left off when our smuggling enterprise was so sadly compromised? With Bonaparte gone for good now, there really is no reason, unless you wish to begin trading in brandy and silks and such, rather than gold guineas."
     
     
"No, no, never return to the same well once it has gone dry, Sir Horatio," Beales agreed, inwardly wishing to wring the idiot's fat neck for daring to interrupt him. Ah, well, he wouldn't need the man much longer. "I am sufficiently well situated, for the moment, monetarily, and can only hope the same for you both. I do, as I've already alluded to, have this one small, niggling problem standing between me and a happy existence here in London."
     
     
Francis Roberts must have seen this as his cue, for he sat forward on his chair, his hands gripping the wooden arm rails. "Whatever you need, Mr. Beatty, sir, consider it already done."
     
     
Fools rush in, Beales thought, blessing the gods for peopling the earth with so very many of them ripe for the picking.
     
     
"Why, thank you, Francis. That's so kind in you. I'm quite touched, truly. Almost as if I don't hold both the rather large mortgages on your estate. And you, Horatio? Are you likewise amenable?"
     
     
"Oh, yes, yes indeed. Anything I can do to be of service, as always."
     
     
Beales watched as the man flushed uncomfortably. No need to mention the sword of Damocles he held over Sir Horatio's head. After all, whose business was it if a man wished to keep his lover