Unmasking Sin, page 12
“But which,” Dunne said, “is, presumably, legally binding.”
“No point, otherwise,” Renwick said. “Now, don’t misunderstand me. I ain’t trying to threaten or extort or anything else. But I’m in a bit of a pickle here. So is Pete. And so are you, my lady. So here’s what I propose.”
“Go on,” Rebecca said, although her stomach was sinking.
“Now our cards are on the table, there’s no need for any sneaking around your house trying—and failing!—to keep everything quiet. There will, absolutely, be no more of that. For your part, you turn a blind eye to Pete’s transgressions and press no charges. Instead, you look around your house—I doubt he’d have taken them out of London—for the rubies. And when you find them, providing Mr. Dunne sees nothing wrong with my document, you will give the rubies to me and owe me nothing. And we’re all happy.”
“Mr. Dunne,” she said between tight lips, “does not act for me.”
“Then another solicitor of your own choice,” Renwick said impatiently, “but if you take my advice, you’ll ensure he’s discreet.”
He was right, for many reasons, not least of them being the fantastic addition to the ton’s on-dits should the matter of Theo’s bizarre service trickle into society. She reached blindly for her teacup and drank. It was very decent tea. She suspected it was smuggled.
Chapter Eleven
Leaving Pete with his still irate uncle, Rebecca walked in silence beside Ludovic Dunne back through the gardens toward the main path. Dawson followed several paces behind.
Abruptly, Dunne said, “There is something else to consider here. The reason your husband accepted Renwick’s offer.”
“To avoid paying his debts,” she said tonelessly.
“Because he couldn’t?” Dunne shot back.
“That is no business of yours.”
“No, but it most assuredly is business of yours and your son’s. For a gentleman to take on such a charge, he must have been in dire straits indeed.”
She turned her haughtiest gaze upon him, but he appeared to be immune.
“If I were you,” he said, “I would inquire closely into the state of your own settlements and the child’s inheritance.”
“Drumming up more business, Mr. Dunne?” she said contemptuously. “I believe your invoice for today’s little escapade will be your first and last to me.”
“Very well.”
His tone was casual, his face bland, and she only hoped she hid her surprise at this easy victory. It made her suspicious, and she almost sent him to the hackney stand before she realized how petty she was becoming.
Instead, she allowed him to sit beside Dawson on the return journey and totally ignored their desultory conversation on the nature of Mr. Renwick and Theo’s possible hiding places. His insinuation into her and Theo’s private business almost made her grind her teeth. But she endured in silence until the carriage drew up in Barclay Square, and Mark immediately ran down the front steps to open the door.
“My coachman will return you to your office or your home,” she said casually. “Goodbye, Mr. Dunne.” And without looking back, she alighted and sailed up to her open front door, several paces in front of Dawson.
*
Early the following afternoon, while Tom was taking his nap, Rebecca walked into Theo’s rooms and paused. She had never spent any time here when Theo was alive, and he had taken most of his personal items to Redpath Hall with him on their last journey there. There seemed no presence of him here, almost no memory, which made her sad.
I should miss him more.
Theo had not been like Bowden. There was no evil, no intent to hurt about him. He was merely careless, selfish, hedonistic, with a large dose of charm. She could recognize now that her attraction to him had been reaction to her first marriage, arranged entirely by her parents, to a nasty old man. Theo was the opposite, young, vital, fun-loving, and she, so desperate for love, had refused to see what her father had claimed: that Theo was a lightweight and destined for debtor’s prison. Of course, her father had been motivated by his own desire to sell her next to some other rich friend. But, her duty more than done with Bowden, she had rebelled and married Theo. Her father had eventually given his permission, if not his blessing. But he had never spoken to her since.
And she had made her second unhappy marriage.
I am simply not lovable. It was hardly the first time she had had such thoughts, but they no longer caused despair. After all, her love for Theo had been somewhat withered by the time he had died, and in truth, she was glad to be out of that madness of love, jealousy, and rejection. She would probably enjoy the freedom of widowhood if the uncles would leave her alone. If anyone of her own class would trouble to speak to her.
She sat down at Theo’s bare dressing table and began going through the drawers.
She had moved past his bedside cabinet to his wardrobe when Tilly found her to say she had morning callers and that Dawson had taken them to the drawing room.
“Callers?” Rebecca repeated in surprise, as though both the word and the concept were foreign to her. It had been so long since anyone except the uncles had knocked on her door that she no longer even considered it a possibility.
“Who?” she asked suspiciously.
“Mr. Dawson has their cards, my lady.”
She glanced doubtfully down at her gown, which was not new, then shrugged and went down in search of her guests. Dawson hovered on the landing, bearing the visitors’ cards. The same cards that had been left yesterday.
At least there were only two of them, so if they had come to be nasty, she could deal with them.
Pinning a smile on her face, she walked into the drawing room and discovered two young, almost identically beautiful young women.
“Lady Calvert, Lady Henry,” she said to cover the fact that she had no idea which was which.
They each curtseyed, as did she. The more richly dressed of the pair smiled at her. “Don’t worry. Even our husbands are afraid they are seeing double if we stand side-by-side. I don’t think you are acquainted with my twin sister, Lady Henry de Vere. She isn’t in town much. Meg, this is obviously our patient hostess, Lady Cornish.”
“Please, sit down,” Rebecca invited, casting around for something to say. She was out of practice at small talk. “Er… I am surprised you are still in town. I thought most people had fled for the year.”
“We had,” Lady Calvert admitted. “But we are having guests at Calvert Court in a week or so, and I suddenly realized I hadn’t a decent stitch to wear. So here we are to buy gowns and fripperies.”
“Here Martha is to buy gowns and fripperies,” Lady Henry said wryly.
“While Meg sits in the corner yawning,” Lady Calvert agreed. “At any rate, it was a pleasant surprise to discover you were here still, so I am presuming on small acquaintance to call upon you!”
“You are very welcome,” Rebecca murmured as the tea was brought in. With still no idea why they had come, and no idea what to say next, she occupied herself with pouring tea and offering honey cakes.
“I don’t recall seeing you this Season,” Lady Calvert said. “Are you still in mourning?”
“Not really.” Rebecca decided to bring things into the open. “I am simply not invited. I’m sure you have heard the rumors.”
“Oh, we don’t pay any attention to those,” Lady Henry said unexpectedly. “I have been the victim of baseless scandal myself.”
Rebecca glanced at her in surprise and remembered belatedly to hand over her teacup and saucer.
“Orgy at the Princess of Wales’s residence?” Lady Henry said disparagingly.
“Ah.” A vague bell rang at the back of Rebecca’s mind. “You were caught up in that? But it was proved to be a malicious prank, was it not? Without recourse to the law.”
“Yes, but it took a lot of work.” She hesitated. “I was fortunate in my family and friends. I could not have dealt with it alone. Does your own family, your husband’s, not stand behind you?”
Rebecca almost laughed until a reason for the sisters’ visit occurred to her. Had they come to sniff out the story from her point of view, to glean any new facts with which to bury her so far as polite society was concerned?
“Stand behind me?” she said deliberately. “Why would they do that if they believe I killed him? In fact, though I hate to be uncivil, why would you risk coming here?”
“In case you’ve poisoned the tea?” Lady Henry asked, apparently amused. “Why would we believe anything so nonsensical?”
“Why do you not?” Rebecca retorted perversely. “We barely know each other.”
“It seems silly,” Lady Calvert said with a dismissive wave of her teacup. “And besides, Johnny told us it was nonsense.”
Baffled, Rebecca glanced from one to the other. “Johnny?”
“Our brother? The Duke of Dearham?”
Rebecca closed her mouth, which she suspected had begun to gape. “I know who he is, of course, but I am not, to my knowledge, acquainted with the Duke of Dearham.”
“You must be,” Lady Calvert said, frowning. “Used to be Lord Fishguard when my father was alive. Known as Fish. Or just Johnny. Shocking flirt.”
“Oh. I may have met him once when I came out. But I believe Theo—my late husband—knew him.”
“There you are.” Lady Henry sat back and sipped her tea. “If a friend of your husband’s believes you are innocent of any crime against him, that is a good start.”
“Good start to what?” Rebecca asked, bewildered.
“Your resistance,” Lady Calvert said. “If you didn’t do it, why should you take the blame?”
Rebecca could not disagree with her.
“So, we were thinking,” Lady Calvert went on. “You should visit the modistes with me tomorrow and perhaps a walk or a drive in the park later. That should catch the notice of the tabbies still in town.”
“I should think it might,” Rebecca said weakly.
“Then why aren’t you looking more enticed?” Lady Calvert asked humorously. “I suppose because I talk too much.”
“She does,” her sister agreed. “But she is terribly good ton, or so she tells me.
“I am very enticed,” Rebecca managed. “I just can’t work out why you would do this for me, on the advice of your brother, who should not even remember me. It makes no sense.”
“To be honest,” Lady Henry said, “we didn’t actually know you were not well acquainted. We assumed you were one of his more discreet flirts.”
“But not that I’d done away with Theo? Perhaps even in order to marry His Grace?”
“Whom you don’t remember,” Lady Calvert interjected. “But, no, that didn’t enter our heads, mainly because Johnny does not pursue marriage. He avoids it like the plague, even now that he is duke and it’s his duty. But he did seem quite clear you were an innocent victim of gossip, like Meg, only worse.”
“Why?” Rebecca asked again.
“We should ask him. Those honey cakes are delicious. I shall have my cook plead with yours for the recipe.” Lady Calvert rose. “Shall we say eleven o’clock tomorrow morning? My carriage will call for you.”
*
The next couple of days were very strange for Rebecca. Activities that once been normal for her in town—shopping, visiting, driving or walking, all with congenial company—were now so rare that she had almost forgotten how to behave. She helped the twins choose ballgowns and almost giggled at their banter. She followed them into a book shop and bought a copy of Little Henry and his Bearer for Tom.
“I’d read it first if I were you,” Lady Henry murmured. “Or stop halfway through. “Who is that staring at us?”
Rebecca turned to behold Mrs. Belfont, gawping at the sight of Rebecca and the duke’s daughters with their heads together over a book. Rebecca let her gaze pass on, though she noticed Lady Henry incline her head.
“Look, here it is, Meg!” Lady Calvert exclaimed, shoving a novel in front of her sister’s nose. “Lady Cornish, you must read this.”
There was a certain pleasure of sailing out of the shop in company with the noble twins, while Mrs. Belfont could only stare.
“I hope she mends her manners before she comes to Calvert Court,” Lady Calvert murmured.
Driving in the park at the fashionable hour was nothing like the same crush as during the Season, but the few members of the ton still left in London seemed to make a point of going that day. She knew she attracted a number of stares but kept her attention on the twins as much as she could. She saw no reason to bow to people who had deliberately cut her, though nor did she wish to embarrass her companions, who were increasingly easy to like, and who seemed, for no reason she could fathom, to have adopted her as their new cause.
The only people she did acknowledge were Aloitius and his wife and daughter, walking along the main path. His eyes widened in shock, and he barely remembered to snatch off his hat and bow. To them, Rebecca accorded a gracious nod.
“Excellent beginning,” Lady Calvert pronounced. “Now, tomorrow, you must call on me at Calvert House. There will be other guests.”
“Not for long,” Rebecca said ruefully.
“You underestimate my sister’s hold on society,” Lady Henry said wryly. “Come. We won’t feed you to the lions.”
In fact, she had stopped suspecting that this was their intention, though it did come back to her as she was announced in Lady Calvert’s drawing room the following afternoon.
There were five ladies in the room and three gentlemen, and every head turned in her direction. There was a moment when she caught the glint of malice in several eyes, and her mind shrieked, Ambush!
Fortunately, she had learned a good deal over the last several months, and she walked into the room with the haughty swagger she adopted for such times, preparing to weather the verbal assaults from all sides.
“Oh, Lady Cornish, I’m so glad you could come!” Lady Calvert advanced upon her, her hand outstretched. Dazed but not yet ready to unbend, Rebecca shook her hand and murmured a greeting. “Do you know my husband, Lord Calvert? Calvert, this is my friend, Lady Cornish.”
A handsome man, who looked vaguely familiar, bowed over her hand and gave her his seat next to Lady Henry. “I think you must know everyone else?”
Only when he asked did she really see the faces trying not to turn toward her too obviously. Mrs. Belfont, perhaps come to warn the twins away from her, and one of her minions she recognized from the charity luncheon. Of course, none of them would dare to cut one of Lady Calvert’s guests, so although no one conversed with her, apart from the twins and Lord Calvert, neither was anyone rude.
She stayed only twenty minutes, drank one cup of tea, and bade her hosts a polite goodbye.
“I’ll come with you,” Lady Henry said. “I’m supposed to meet Harry five minutes ago! Goodbye, all!”
It certainly made for an easier departure. And Lady Henry’s low-voiced, “Well done,” was greatly appreciated. As they walked across the hall, she added, “We leave for Calvert Court tomorrow. Martha has invited you.”
Rebecca blinked. “To join a party at her house?”
“Yes.” She smiled at the footman in her slightly vague way, and they walked together out of the front door and down the steps.
“You have no idea how much I appreciate the kindness,” Rebecca replied at last. “But I don’t think I am brave enough to endure a week or more of sly sniping and insults. Besides, I won’t leave my son.”
“Oh, bring him. My twins will be there and so will Martha’s lads.”
Rebecca was silent. Then, “I don’t want him to see his mother treated with less than courtesy.”
“If anyone dares treat you in such a way, they will be run off the premises, I assure you.” Lady Henry turned to face her. “Look, I don’t pretend to know what this rumor campaign is about, but I do know you can’t run from it. Face your enemies, with your allies beside you, and you will find most of the enemies soon change sides.”
Rebecca smiled. “You are married to an army officer, are you not?”
Lady Henry grinned. “I am, for my sins and his! Calvert and Harry will obviously stand your friends, as will their families. And Johnny—Dearham—will be there, too. Think about it, Lady Cornish, but I do hope you will come.”
*
With the departure of the twins, and the end of her two-day spree of socializing, Rebecca found herself missing the sheer normality of it. She had never had no friends before this year. And Lady Henry’s word struck a chord with her. What would the house party at Calvert Court be except an extended version of the charity luncheon, where she had cocked a metaphorical snook at society. And she would not be unhappy to leave London, the uncles, and the Renwicks behind for a week or two.
Still, she was unsure why the twins or their brother, the Duke of Dearham, should have elected to fight her cause.
In the end, it was the villainous looking Mr. Napper who decided her. He wandered into the garden in the square one day when she was playing there with Tom. In spite of herself, her heart lurched, but no tall figure with silver hair followed him.
Napper tipped his hat to her and would have passed on, but she stopped him.
“Mr. Napper. Are you still watching my house and my household?”
“Just keeping an eye on things,” Napper replied easily. “Make sure you and the nipper are safe.”
“On whose orders?”
“Mr. Dunne’s.”
“And who is paying Mr. Dunne?”
“You’d have to ask him, but I don’t know as anyone is.”
“Be sure and tell him I will not be doing so.”
“You can tell him yourself when he comes back to London.”
And for some reason, that decided her. Even when she was angry with him, his absence made her feel oddly restless. She had searched Theo’s rooms thoroughly and found no more jewelry than a single cufflink, which certainly contained no rubies. She could only think that he had sold them, which meant she owed Mr. Renwick a hefty sum of money that she didn’t want to think about. She had sent him a note to that effect and yet another to the solicitor who handled Theo’s estate.
