Page 34 of A Match of Misfortune (Bachelors of Blackstone’s #7)

Nash stepped through the door, his eyes taking in the peculiar entry hall with equal parts awe, fascination, and bewilderment.

The walls were a deep burgundy, the same as the carpet that led up a dark wooden staircase set against the right side, and the floor was a patterned tile of black and white diamonds of varying sizes.

But it was the overwhelming amount of taxidermied animals and the antlered chandelier that Nash could not pull his gaze from.

Between gilded frames, creatures of all varieties were displayed like trophied sentinels.

This had to be what his father had meant by Lord Blackstone’s animal collection .

“Is this your first time here?”

Nash’s gaze lowered to a tall, dark-haired gentleman watching him with an amused expression. “How did you know?”

“A lucky guess, I suppose.” The man had a contagious smile. “I’m Isaac Ellington.”

“It’s a pleasure. Nash Markham.” Nash’s gaze returned to the animals, and he pointed at one that looked to be on the attack, its small, sharp teeth bared. “Is that a mongoose?”

“Yes, I believe so.”

Nash grimaced. “It’s an intimidating little fellow.”

“If you think that’s intimidating, give Randolph there a gander.” He gestured toward a free-standing mountain goat propped near the far left side of the banister on the first floor. “Those glassy black eyes of his see everything.”

Nash barely restrained a shiver. It was rather unsettling the way it seemed to stare right at him. “Do many of the animals get names, or is Randolph an exception?”

Mr. Ellington chuckled. “Names, hats, spectacles. I’ve even seen a bonnet on a baboon in here. Blackstone certainly loves his animals. ”

And this was who his father wished him to speak with? A man who dressed up animals and named them?

“He’s eccentric and a bit hair-brained from time to time,” Mr. Ellington said as though he could read his thoughts, “but he’s a decent man. If you’re ever in a bind, he’s one you can count on.”

A footman came through a doorway with a coat and hat in his hand. “Here you are, Mr. Ellington.”

“Thank you.” The man accepted the items and returned his attention to Nash as he placed the hat on his head. “Perhaps I’ll see you again.”

Nash gave a nod. Based on first impressions, he doubted he’d return to Blackstone’s after tonight. Though if he were to meet Mr. Ellington elsewhere, he found he’d be grateful for the connection, regardless of whether another gentlemen’s club had blackballed him.

Just as he was debating the likelihood of any good coming from this endeavor, the porter returned to usher him upstairs, and Nash found himself once again distracted by the obscure decorations.

There were more stuffed creatures of all varieties mounted to the wall and filling every nook and flat surface of the sitting room they passed through, but when they turned a sharp left corner, Nash stopped mid-step.

Both sides, from floor to ceiling and the full length of the long corridor, were covered in cases full of taxidermied animals while birds, with their wings spread wide, hung from above.

The porter stopped, glancing back at Nash with a knowing smile. “This is Lord Blackstone’s gallery.”

Gads.

“It’s really …” Nash cleared his throat, trying to think of a word to explain what it was. “… indescribable.”

“His lordship is quite the animal enthusiast.”

Nash glanced around at the creatures in a myriad of poses, most appearing as they might have in the wild, though some donned human objects as Mr. Ellington had suggested—a crow with a looking glass secured to its beak, a mouse with a tiny scarf about its neck, and a squirrel wearing what appeared to be a crown, which on closer inspection proved to be a large ring. How odd.

“There are over five hundred specimens in this gallery alone,” the porter explained. “Over a thousand in the whole of the place, and he has an even larger collection at his estate up in Norwich.”

“Enthusiast doesn’t quite seem to fit his level of dedication.”

The porter nodded his agreement. “Of course, I did not mean to imply he was only an enthusiast. He is also a well-known naturalist. At least, he is distinguishing himself as such with the expeditions he sponsors. Henry Branok, one of the members of the club, has recently returned from the West Indies and has published a book on the birds observed there. His work is quite a credit to Lord Blackstone.”

It seemed as though the credit should be to Mr. Henry Branok himself, but Nash did not say as much as he stepped in behind the porter again.

As they walked down the corridor, he could not keep his gaze from drifting to the countless animals—birds of all kinds, including several types of owls, the Great Horned Owl among them, small wild cats of different varieties, dozens of rodents, a weasel, and a large peacock and peahen.

There were even a few exotic reptiles and a macaque monkey, like they had in India.

To have such a diverse collection, Lord Blackstone was certainly wealthy, but he was also either well-traveled or, as Father had suggested, extremely well connected.

The porter knocked on the door at the far end of the gallery and entered when bid to do so.

A moment later, the man appeared again and closed the door behind him.

“He will be with you momentarily.” And with that, the porter gave a small bow and departed, leaving Nash in the corridor with a thousand glass-eyed stares at his back .

A loud thud forced his attention from his discomfiting thoughts.

Nash leaned his ear nearer and rested his hand on the knob, worried about the commotion, when he heard some shuffling and then footsteps approaching the door.

It opened, and a short, stout man with unkempt gray hair smiled excitedly at him.

He was not at all the man Nash had envisioned.

“Mr. Markham! I am so glad you’re here.”

“You are?” Nash asked, befuddled.

“Yes indeed. Come in, come in.” He ushered Nash inside his office.

It smelled of freshly smoked tobacco and appeared relatively normal at first glance.

Until Nash noticed the portrait behind the desk portraying a bearded badger sitting upright like a man and wearing …

a mourning coat? In fact, most of the framed portraits were of animals, and there was a small, stuffed deer with antlers on the surface of the cabinetry against the rear wall, in addition to a large hare and an equally large hen of some sort.

Lord Blackstone moved around to the large wingback chair and gestured for Nash to sit.

Three chairs were placed in front of the desk, and Nash nearly selected the one closest to him before thinking better of the choice and shifting to the one across from Lord Blackstone.

When he sat, the chair wobbled slightly.

He took hold of the front, hoping to scoot it to a flatter spot on the floor, but before he could manage it, the back right side of the seat dropped, tumbling the chair and Nash along with it.

“Forgive me.” He hurried to his feet, taking hold of the chair to right it before noticing the back leg still lying on the floor. Blast! He had broken Lord Blackstone’s chair. Nash reached down and picked it up, offering it as evidence to his folly. “It seems I have broken your chair.”

Lord Blackstone gave a small chuckle. “No, I took the leg off. It was only propped beneath it.”

Nash glanced at the leg, confirming there was no splintered wood or broken pieces. “You took it off? ”

Lord Blackstone nodded. “I was simply curious if the rumors regarding your bout of ill luck were true.”

Nash gawked at him, barely resisting the nettlesome desire to ask him which rumors he’d heard.

If he hoped to get to Hyde Park while Cecily and the Rothsburgs were still there, he could not afford to meander lackadaisically through every topic of conversation presented him.

“In truth, that is why I came today. My father said you are one of the most well-informed gentlemen in London, so I was hoping you may have heard news regarding my ship, the Dawn of India .”

“You mean other than the hearsay that it has run aground off the Cape Verde Islands?”

“So you have heard of it?”

“The islands? Of course. They are the home of a unique petrel—the Cape Verde petrel—which is endemic there. It is rare to find a species that is found only within a defined geographic location. Particularly mammals, not that Cape Verde has any of those. Some livestock was thought to be, but like the green vervet monkey and the black-tipped mongoose, they were brought in by early travelers and settlers.”

Nash gave a slow nod. “That is all … very fascinating. As for the ship … have you also heard anything of it?”

“Oh, forgive me. No, just the rumors. Nothing more.”

This was a waste of time. With a dip of his chin, Nash took a backward step. “Well, thank you for meeting with me.”

“Mr. Markham?” Lord Blackstone studied him.

“If I am a man as well-informed as you have been told—and I assure you I am, as I have connections the Beau Monde could not dream of maintaining—does it not seem odd I would not have heard of something so significant as the wreck of an Indiaman? I was amongst the first to confirm the sinking of the Calcutta Star last fall.”

Nash took in his earnest expression, then pulled out one of the two remaining chairs, settling himself on it with caution. “And you have heard nothing of the Dawn of India ?”

“Verifiable information? No. Not even a whisper.”

What was Nash to make of that? “A friend of mine and fellow merchant reported his contacts were able to confirm the wreck.”

“Most interesting. And what is this friend’s name?”

“Johnathan Steele of Steele Shipping & Co.”