Unmasking Sin, page 14
“I meant to ask you this morning,” Dunne said, glancing about him to be sure their conversation was at least temporarily private, “did you find Renwick’s necklace?”
She shook her head. “I took Theo’s rooms apart, and I really doubt he would have put it anywhere else, or servants other than his devoted valet might have found it.”
“Where is the devoted valet now?”
She wrinkled her nose. “I believe he is now Aloitius’s valet.
“Then he would pass on any questions from either you or I. Which is annoying.”
“It strikes me,” she said carefully, “that Theo might actually have sold it. Or pawned it, meaning to retrieve it later when his luck turned.”
“I don’t think…” He trailed off as Lady Calvert made her way to them, clutching the arm of a bashful young man. “But we can talk about this later.”
“Lady Cornish,” Martha Calvert said with her bright hostess smile. “Allow me to present to you Sir Neil Beamish, who would love to take you in to dinner. Mr. Dunne, come with me…”
Rebecca didn’t know if she was annoyed or relieved not to have to sit beside Mr. Dunne during dinner. Relieved, she told herself firmly. Too firmly, for as it turned out, she was seated with young Sir Neil on one side and Ludovic Dunne on the other.
Sir Neil appeared to be both painfully shy and dazzled, so she spent most of the meal putting him at ease and drawing him out, which was rewarding in the end, for he turned out to be interesting and unexpectedly witty. As civility demanded, she also conversed with Mr. Dunne, although not on any serious topic. He seemed, in fact, to turn to her as to a reprieve, for the young matron on his other side, Mrs. Lanyon, conversed by asking constant questions, which Rebecca could not help overhearing.
“…when my brother comes down from Oxford. Were you at Oxford, Mr. Dunne?”
“I was.”
“My brother finds the classics a sad trial. Did you?”
“My interest was more in law.”
“Law? How very peculiar! Did you wish to be a barrister?”
“I did.”
“And are you?”
“I ate enough dinners at the inns of court to become so, but then I trained also as a solicitor. I practice mainly as a solicitor.”
“How amazing! And which of these ladies is your wife?”
“I am not married.”
“Whyever not?”
“No one will have me.”
“Why not? Oh! You are teasing me, naughty man. Was your father a solicitor, also?”
“No, he was a clergyman. Do you—”
“A clergyman?” She seemed delighted. “A most gentlemanly profession. Did you not wish to follow in his footsteps?”
“The Church and I rarely agree. But my youngest brother is a vicar with a living of his own.”
“How wonderful. Have you many brothers and sisters?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Are you the eldest?”
The faintest pause, then, “I am now.”
With a gap in her own conversation, Rebecca glanced at him just as he turned to her with something close to comical desperation. “How long do you stay at Calvert Court, Lady Cornish? Until the ball?”
“That is my plan. I believe there is an expedition to the seaside tomorrow, which the children are looking forward to.”
There was nothing definite to show his relaxation of tension, but Rebecca sensed it all the same. And she didn’t think it was mere relief that she was prepared to converse with him civilly. The tautness had formed at that last question, Are you the eldest? I am now.
“I am glad to see you here,” he said with unexpected warmth. “You and Tom are looking well on country air.”
To her surprise, he appeared to mean it, which threw her, and for several heartbeats, she could think of no suitable reply. “We like the country,” she blurted at last. “And you, sir, do you return to London imminently?”
“Lady Calvert has kindly asked me to stay for a few days, which is tempting. I am not used to holidays either.”
She raised one eyebrow. “Making common cause with me, Mr. Dunne?”
“I believe we have several common causes.”
“Well, we have still to find the bride of Lord Calvert’s ill-favored ancestor.”
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “A reasonable beginning.” With an only slightly mocking inclination of the head, he returned to Mrs. Lanyon, getting his own question in first, “Do you have plans for the rest of the summer, ma’am?”
As she returned to her own conversation with Sir Neil, it struck her, perhaps for the first time, that Ludovic Dunne had always shown the manners of a gentleman, even in the most bizarre situations. Even kissing her, he had waited to be invited.
Hastily, she shoved that memory aside, but she was conscious suddenly of a curiosity about the man himself rather than simply how he affected her own position and Tom’s. Her interest, of course, had always been there. It had merely been crushed by anger since she had learned of his association with the uncles. Now, she needed to know as much as she could about him, to decide how much, if at all, she could trust him.
Therefore, she felt quite justified asking His Grace of Dearham about him.
It was after dinner, and the gentlemen had joined the ladies in the drawing room. Rebecca thought she noticed a slight thawing toward her by her fellow guests. A dowager had actually smiled at her, and a man who had leered at her on her first couple of evenings here now bowed instead. Mrs. Belfont was looking anxious as the duke ambled over and sat in the chair next to Rebecca’s.
“I haven’t said before, but I was very sorry to hear about Theo’s death,” he told her. “If my condolences mean anything to you.”
She blinked. “Why should they not?”
“Well, I imagine men like me kept him out too often when he should have been with you.”
“Theo was not a child,” she said calmly. “If there was a fault, it was hardly yours.”
“And you would rather I change the subject?”
She smiled. “Allow me to change it for you. Is Mr. Dunne a particularly good friend of yours?”
“I barely know him, to be honest. Why? Is your interest personal or professional?”
“Professional, of course.”
“Then he comes highly recommended by people I trust. And I confess I like the man. He is amusing, blunt, and never fawns. Fawning is a common problem for dukes.”
“I shall bear it in mind, though I hope I have never fawned in my life.”
“Why would you need to? Do you know you have the most beautiful eyes? Dark and brilliant at the same time, which ought not to be possible.”
“Can you be fawning, my lord duke?”
He grinned. “No, I’m flirting, which is quite different.”
“I don’t flirt either,” she said apologetically.
“You should. It’s fun, and I’m always free for practice.”
“I’ll bear it in mind,” she said dryly.
Close-by, another conversation intruded on her attention, probably because it included the name Dunne.
“Do you all know Mr. Dunne?” one gentleman appeared to be saying to a group of guests, and a murmur of polite acknowledgments followed, both male and female.
“Dunne,” mused the voice of Captain Dauncy—the man who had appeared to be having some sort of confrontation with Mr. Dunne in the hall that morning. “Dunne. Where have I heard that name before? Ah, I believe there was an officer of that name in my regiment. Do you recall him, de Vere?”
Rebecca glanced at the group. Dauncy was sprawled in a chair in the middle of a mixed group, as though he were holding court, and he was smiling insolently, even challengingly, up at Ludovic Dunne, who stood in the fringes.
Lord Harry de Vere, who was some distance away by the pianoforte, glanced over at them. “Yes, I knew Captain Dunne. Good officer. I liked him.”
Rebecca could have sworn a frown of irritation crossed Dauncy’s brow, but it vanished almost immediately into a taunting smile. “How is he?” he asked Dunne.
A chill passed over Rebecca, and yet Dunne’s lips were curved into a smile. Only his eyes were shuttered and colder than ice. “Missing you,” he said and bowed before passing on.
Later, as Rebecca lay in bed, remembering the strange events of the day, she wondered if His Grace of Dearham, with his talk of flirtation, had been dropping her a hint that she need not be so stiff. She had been determined to behave with impeccable propriety, but there was only a short gap between that and unfriendliness.
Of course, there was no one she really wished to flirt with, not even the Duke of Dearham, dashing and charming as he was. Unbidden, Ludovic Dunne’s face swam into her mind. Why did it keep doing that?
Because I did flirt with him, even that first night at Maida. Because it would be so easy to flirt with him again.
Chapter Thirteen
It was mostly young people who set out the next morning on an expedition to the seaside. The adults rode, mostly on horses supplied by Lord Calvert or his neighbors. The four little boys traveled with Annie and the Calvert nursemaid in a strange vehicle rather like a large governess cart, while a coach containing servants and victuals for an al fresco luncheon brought up the rear.
The party was jolly and good-natured, and Rebecca felt almost comfortable. The twins had been right. Hiding had never been the answer. She had to face her critics head-on. This morning, she never felt she rode alone. Someone was always beside her. Conversation, whether with men or women, seemed natural.
Once, on a wider stretch of track, she found herself riding beside Ludovic Dunne and a young debutante, Miss Garland.
“Such a beautiful day!” Miss Garland exclaimed. “I do hope we will have time to paint when we reach the coast. I can’t wait to try and capture this light on the sea.”
“Do you paint or sketch, Lady Cornish?” Mr. Dunne asked.
“I did as a girl, but very badly. I was the despair of my governess. But I look forward to seeing yours, Miss Garland.” She dropped back a little as the track narrowed, and while she listened to Miss Garland’s chatter, she fixed her gaze on Ludovic Dunne’s face.
With his head inclined toward Miss Garland, smiling faintly, he could not see her scrutiny. There was a faintly cynical curve to his lips, a hardness about the eyes. She did not know what caused them, beyond his observation of human nature. But somehow, she didn’t think they went so deep as to drive his behavior. He could be hard and cold, she was sure, but if she stood back from her own anger, she could acknowledge she had seen kindness and compassion in him, too.
In fact, she found his features not only handsome but curiously noble.
Though it was true, appearances could be deceptive. Her parents had not believed Bowden would mistreat her or anyone else because he kept the façade of a kindly gentleman. She had been utterly fooled by Theo’s handsome face to believe a man of character lurked beneath. Not that Theo had been a bad man. She had been right that far.
But was Ludovic Dunne? Could she trust him?
“You could just ask,” his voice murmured, making her jump.
While her observation had drifted off into speculation, he had hung back to keep pace with her horse while, ahead, Miss Garland now rode beside Sir Neil.
“Ask what?” she managed.
“Whatever question caused you to regard me with such intensity.”
She flushed slightly, but she had had enough of evasion and skirting about the issue. “I was wondering if you were trustworthy.”
A veil came over his eyes. “In personal or professional terms?”
“Professional, of course,” she replied, just as she had to Dearham last night, hoping it was true.
“Then the answer is yes. But of course, I would say that, wouldn’t I? So you must come to your own conclusions.”
“Dearham trusts you. So does Lord Harry. And Mr. Renwick. And Mr. Napper.”
“A motley crew,” he observed. “What does that tell you?”
“That you have never let them down. It could even be argued that examining my life as you did was part of the duties you undertook in good faith for my husband’s uncles.”
He met her gaze steadily. “No more and no less. But again, I would say that.”
She dragged her eyes free, gazing instead between her horse’s ears as she tried to put her request into words that were neither pleading nor offensive.
He said, “If it helps your decision, I would not charge for whatever assistance I can bring to your problem.”
Her gaze flew back to his. “Why not?”
“Because I was too eager to bring to book a two-faced murderer. And my lack of judgment contributed to the additional danger to you and your child. I should have looked more thoroughly into my clients before I accepted their case.”
She searched his face, a smile beginning on her lips and in her heart. “Was that an apology, Mr. Dunne?”
“I believe it was, Lady Cornish.”
A burst of laughter from behind them reminded Rebecca that they were not alone.
He murmured, “We’ll talk later,” and she nodded, allowing herself to drop back and make sure Tom and the other children were still in good spirits and behaving.
*
The “talk later” part happened after their al fresco luncheon on the beach. Miss Garland and a couple of other ladies had set up their easels and watercolors. Lord Harry and the duke were playing races with the children, and a few others were walking on the beach or exploring the rocks.
Mr. Dunne, who, with Sir Neil, had been throwing pebbles into the sea and watching them bounce, turned as she walked toward him. Murmuring an “Excuse me,” to the younger man, he came to meet her and offered his arm.
“If you are not opposed to it on your holiday,” she said, laying her hand lightly on his sleeve, “I would like to talk to you.”
“Then why don’t we walk along the water’s edge?”
It was sensible. They would have privacy, walking away from the others and yet still be seen by them.
“I know you will not say so,” she began, “but I think we are both aware that Theo’s family is responsible for the…whispering campaign against me. They want control of Tom.”
“Why?” he asked.
She frowned at him. Somewhere, it registered that it was uncomfortable walking on the beach with one’s boots on. Her toes itched. “They don’t like me. They think they can bring Tom up better than I can, which means turning him against me and showing him how to be rude and spiteful to those who can’t or won’t fight back.”
“It sounds just like Eton,” he said cynically. “But my question again is why? His grandmother may have some fondness for the child, though I would personally doubt it, but her brothers have no interest in him. I doubt they care two hoots what kind of a person he grows up to be.”
“Then why are they trying so hard?”
“That’s what I wondered. But something good for them must come out of gaining control of the boy.”
She paused, and he halted with her. “You told me before to look into financial matters. But they already have financial control of the estate, of Tom’s inheritance. What else would they want?”
“Perhaps to exclude you. To reduce not only your allowance but to keep your nose out of Tom’s business.” His gaze dropped to the impatient shifting of her feet. “Why don’t you just take your boots off?”
“Because people will see.”
“I’ll stand in front of you.” He moved to do so, blocking her from the sight of the rest of the party, now some distance away, and turning his back like a gentleman. Feeling like a naughty schoolroom miss, she quickly unbuttoned and kicked off her boots and stockings. She walked on, carrying them in front of her.
He strolled beside her, his lips twitching with appreciation. “I suppose it would be undignified to run.”
“Today, it would,” she said regretfully. She let the smile die on her lips. “Do you think they’re embezzling from Tom?”
“I think it’s a possibility. I suspect your husband ran through most of his wealth. Why else would he agree to housing Renwick’s dubiously pawned items? However, I don’t imagine it was all Theo’s fault. He’d been financing his uncles for years. These are guesses, but if you give me the right, I will find out.”
“I asked the solicitor who handled Theo’s affairs and ours,” she said reluctantly. “He told me that everything is well. I’m not sure I believe him.”
“He could be part of it. We need to go directly to the banks.” He drew in his breath. “There is another matter. Why is your mother-in-law living at Redpath House as its mistress when the will gave it to you for life?”
“Oh, I am not forbidden it. I merely hate living with her and her creatures and letting her near Tom.”
“She has a dower property near Bath. Send her there. You owe her nothing, and Tom does not deserve to swelter in London while she steals from you.”
Rebecca closed her mouth. “You are harsh.”
“I am frank. She lives well there. The cost of her servants and everything she buys, from food and drink and gifts to her own recent redecoration of her own apartments, is charged to the estate.”
She glanced at him. He really was thorough. “You’ve been there.” She swallowed. “Is there anything else I should look into?”
“Your own settlements.”
She grimaced. “Such as were left. My first husband, Lord Bowden, took great delight in telling me they’d paid for our wedding trip. Theo didn’t seem to mind their depletion, though he spent what was left. At least he didn’t marry me for my fortune.”
“No one in their right mind would marry you for your fortune,” he said so intensely that her gaze flew back to him in surprise. A tinge of color crept into his cheeks, and he gave a lop-sided smile. “Forgive my ferocity, but you do not seem to have been treated well by your parents, your husbands, or your husbands’ families. That is not only unjust, it is extreme bad luck.”
His words warmed her but also put a spring in her step. She smiled as she kicked up some sand with her toes. “Tom is my luck. And I have discovered that there are still good people in the world, besides my loyal servants. Although even one of them isn’t actually loyal at all.”
