Unmasked by her Lover, page 15
After a moment, he shifted his gaze to hers. “Why did you not just ask me about this? Why did not Wellington’s people?”
“Well, without doubting your loyalty or your discretion, it was felt you might react—um…unsubtly to the news of Garrow’s part in all this. And considering when Garrow walked into the inn, the first thing you did was lay him out cold—without even knowing any of these suspicions!—I am forced to agree. I did not want you killing him before we know the truth. We have no evidence, you see. Only suspicion and the missing orders to your colonel, which Garrow swears he handed to Dewar.”
She hesitated, then said, “There is more. We need to know to whom he reports, who gives him orders. For it is perfectly possible someone will try and free Bonaparte from Elba. He should never have been left so close to the heart of Europe.”
“And so you watch Garrow,” Harry said slowly. “While he thinks you are watching me.”
“He was out the other night,” she said. “I didn’t notice he’d gone until the next morning, so I’ve no idea where he went. It’s maddening, but stupidly, I fell asleep too early. He told me he’d followed you and lost you near the coast.”
“That was a personal matter, nothing to do with him or Dewar or spies. But he did follow me, stayed in a tavern in a coastal village called Cliffstone.”
She frowned. “What is there in Cliffstone? For either of you?”
“For him, I would suspect nothing. I only know of an old nurse who once tended the duke’s children. But I’m sure he was following me, not looking to meet anyone else.”
“No, but he was determined to come to Calvert Court, and I’m sure there’s more to it than covering his guilty past. I think one of the Calvert’s guests must be part of this.”
“Who?”
“If I knew that, the matter would be simple.”
He cast her a glance of some admiration. “I believe it would be. You are a brave woman.”
“I am,” she sighed. “But still, you do not like me.”
“Oh, I always liked you. Never think I was not tempted, despite my suspicions of you.”
“But another always held your heart.”
He was about to scoff, to deny it as he had in the past, even to himself. But in the end, he merely shrugged. “Yes.”
“Then I wish you joy,” Aline said with a trace of sadness quickly hidden. “I like her.”
His lips quirked as he walked to the door.
“Lord Harry?”
He glanced over his shoulder.
“I can rely on your discretion?”
“And my help,” he said and went out.
*
Until he found Meg in the stables, he hadn’t realized he was looking for her. “Are you riding?” he asked.
“I was thinking about it,” she admitted, flushing slightly at the sight of him.
“Come for a walk instead?”
Without a quibble, she turned and led the way outside. Because he couldn’t be still, he set off at a spanking pace until he realized she was having to trot to keep up. He muttered an apology and slowed.
She said nothing, asked nothing, merely walked beside him until, inevitably, he told her everything, from the discovery of the missing ring to all he had learned from Aline. Her eyes widened, and she exclaimed at certain parts, but he had no need to explain what it was about these discoveries that so shattered him.
She took his hand, even rested her cheek against his arm. “I think Aline is right. I think he did tell you. You just haven’t yet recognized how.”
His fingers tightened on hers. “You are very sweet,” he said softly.
“No, I’m not,” she said with revulsion. “I have never been sweet!”
“You have, and you are. And it isn’t an insult. How is Martha?”
Distracted, she frowned. “Doing her duty. And admitting no wrong, though she accuses Calvert of nothing. I think her indifference terrifies him.”
“Good,” Harry said succinctly.
“So I think. As long as her indifference is not real and lasting. It must be terrible to be tied to someone you have no feelings for whatsoever. I wonder how many women—or men—that happens to?”
“People find a way to rub along. Do you think Martha’s feelings are so changeable? Are yours?”
She glanced at him quickly and away. They were still holding hands like children. He had no idea if she had noticed. “Five years ago, I thought I loved him. She has had nearly five years of marriage to him and countless infidelities to forgive.”
“You think Calvert has finally learned his lesson too late?”
“I hope not. For her sake. It strikes me that the one thing worse than losing your husband’s love must be losing your own love for him.”
He gazed at her for a moment. “You think this on your own account? Or on Martha’s?”
She smiled ruefully. “I don’t know.”
“Is that why you are so reluctant to marry? You fear your own inconstancy more than his?”
She shrugged. “Once, perhaps.”
He paused. They were in the woods. Not so very far from the place he had embraced her in her chemise and known the first heady taste of her passion. She stopped with him, flushing as she raised her eyes to his face.
Slowly, he lifted their joined hands and kissed her knuckles. “You and I are still friends.”
“We have never been lovers,” she pointed out and bit her lip, fascinating him.
“Yet,” he said softly.
Her breath caught. He could see the rapid beating of the pulse at the base of her throat. But her voice was almost steady as she said, “You know, I believe that goes beyond flirting?”
“It is just an additional fact,” he said lightly. “I shan’t ravish you in the woods to make my point.”
She slid her hand free and walked quickly on. “My parents are coming today,” she said in a deliberate change of subject.
“Your father will crucify me. And rightly so. Probably.”
“Well, don’t let him bully you into marriage with me.”
He gazed at her averted face. “I told you at the outset I would not.”
She walked even faster. “Good,” she said breathlessly, and he wondered if he had hurt her feelings.
“No one can be allowed to make such a decision for either of us.”
She slowed, searching his face with a faint frown on her brow. “No,” she agreed at last. A smile gleamed in her eyes before she nudged him with her elbow. “Tag,” she said and ran back the way they had come.
Chapter Fifteen
Meg was disappointed when he took no opportunity to kiss her during their childish game, but she said nothing, for she suspected suddenly that he had deliberately created that disappointment. Harry was playing some game of his own, and she wished she knew the rules.
In the meantime, they were old enough family friends for her reputation to withstand a short walk with him. A longer walk would have been noted, especially as more guests from London were expected that day, no doubt well aware of the scandal attached to her name. The presence of her parents, to say nothing of their hostess, should prevent any unpleasantness, but she knew she had to be more careful now. No more night-time jaunts with Harry. No more time alone with him to experience the wild, new thrill of his kisses.
By the time they returned to the house, Martha was up and about, entertaining her current guests while preparing for new ones. The most important of the newcomers were their parents, who appeared just after tea in a cavalcade of four coaches. One containing them, two containing baggage and servants, and one with Harry’s elder brother, the Marquess of Staunton, and his wife.
“Oh-oh,” Martha said as Meg joined her on the front steps to greet them. “An alliance has formed. But don’t worry.”
Meg stepped aside to let Calvert take her place. She watched them go together to formally welcome her parents. Harry, meanwhile, had strolled down to greet his brother with a casual handshake.
“No one would know,” Johnny murmured in Meg’s ear, “that Their Graces are hopping mad.”
“With Martha or me? Or with Calvert?”
They went together to greet their parents, dutifully kissing them. As Johnny had pointed out, they gave no outward sign of anger in public.
“Although he did call me Margaret,” Meg said to Johnny as they followed the parental entourage into the house. “And you were definitely Fishguard.”
“He always calls me that in public. Only person in the world who does. Everyone else calls me Johnny or my lord. Or Fish. Do you suppose we can slope off until summoned? Martha seems to have the matter in hand.”
“I can’t leave Martha to face them alone.”
Accordingly, she wandered into her mother’s room, where the maid was already unpacking. Of her mother or Martha, there was no sign.
“How are you, Patters?” she asked the maid amiably.
“Oh, very well, my lady, though to be sure, I don’t care to travel. But I shall be right as rain by tomorrow.”
“I hope so. Um…where is Her Grace?”
“With the duke and Lady Martha, my lady.”
“Oh, dear. Is there a dust-up?”
“I couldn’t say, my lady,” Patters replied primly.
“Of course, you couldn’t.” Meg wandered over to the window, admiring the view from the best guest-chamber until the duchess eventually bustled in.
“Ah, there you are Meg. Thank you, Patters, you may go. I shall ring for you.”
The maid effaced herself, and the duchess looked Meg up and down.
“You look well enough. But, really, Meg, jaunting about the country alone with a gentleman—even Harry de Vere—is hardly the best way of preserving one’s reputation. You could have asked us.”
“I did mention the idea of going to Martha,” Meg said mildly.
“Oh well, there seems to be no more harm done, and according to your sister, the story is so well established here that it will convince all who come from London with their heads full of the scandal.”
“Do you believe that?” Meg asked doubtfully.
“Not entirely,” her mother admitted. “But it may be enough. And Martha tells me you held the fort here while she ran off to Nurse. The whole affair is shockingly ramshackle, but since we seem to be none the worse for it, I shall say no more.”
Meg stared, unable to believe she was getting off quite so lightly.
“Go away, Meg, and let me rest before dinner. Oh!” Picking up the reticule she had just laid on the bed, the duchess drew out a letter. “This came for you by post to Grosvenor Square. In the circumstances, your father opened it. We thought it might have something to do with the scandal, but it’s only from the Curwen girl who shares in it.”
“Hazel?” In some surprise, Meg took the letter. “I hope she is well, for her situation was hardest, with her family so scattered.”
Eager to read it, she went immediately to her chamber, where she found Martha.
“Well?” her sister demanded. “Did they scold you?”
“Barely at all,” Meg said, distracted. “What on earth did you say to them?”
“Oh, just that you saved things here while I was away,” Martha said vaguely.
It was not the whole truth, but Meg let it go for now. “What did they say to you?”
“Very little. I distracted them with my news.” She touched her belly and wrinkled her nose. “Which means I have to tell Selwyn.”
Meg’s eyes widened. “He doesn’t know yet?”
“There was enough fuss, and besides,” she added as Meg unfolded the letter, “it’s almost as if, as soon as he knows, the child is his and not mine.”
Meg frowned at her. “The child belongs to you both. You came home for that reason.”
“I know. Who is your letter from?”
“One of the princess’s other ladies who was caught in the scandal. She had nowhere to go but to her old governess…” Meg began to read, sinking slowly onto the bed as her mouth dropped.
“What is it?” Meg demanded.
“She’s found out who tricked us, and it was a trick, of the vilest…” She thrust the letter at Martha. “Read it for yourself. It was Lord Barden.”
“Barden?” Martha repeated, scanning the letter. “But he is invited here to the masked ball. Apparently, he was too busy to come earlier, but he plans to arrive the night before.”
Meg’s eyes narrowed. “Does he? Well, I shall make a few plans of my own! To ruin us all simply to punish Hazel for refusing his dishonorable advances!”
Martha threw down the letter again. “Well, I think this calls for a joint plan. We’ll talk later, but for now, I had better have a conversation with Selwyn before Papa informs him he’s going to be a father…”
*
“There has to be more to it than that,” Harry said in disgust a couple of hours later.
Meg, Martha, and Johnny had spilled into the library before dinner to discuss matters and had discovered Harry and his brother, Lord Staunton, already there. These days, Staunton was an upright, almost ponderous figure, careful of his dignity. But when they were all children, he had been known to join in their mischief, even if he was a little older. In fact, he had even got them out of trouble more than once, for he was very good-natured.
Meg, unable to keep Barden’s infamy to herself, had blurted the whole thing and Staunton, now reduced once more to the Robert of childhood, was as incensed as anyone else.
“What do you mean?” Martha asked.
“I mean, it wasn’t just for Miss Curwen’s benefit, was it?” Harry said reasonably. “According to Meg, Miss Curwen was the only one meant to be there because no one had canceled her duty. The rest of you were deliberately summoned and deliberately named, or at least initialed, in the paper.”
“Well, he never made advances to me,” Meg stated.
“Would you have noticed if he did?” Martha asked.
“Of course I would! Besides, he would never dare. I’m the Duke of Dearham’s daughter. I’m sure he would never have dared behave ill to Juliet Lilbourne either.”
“Then what does he have against you?” Harry asked. “Did you try and protect Miss Curwen? Tell him off for some other misbehavior?”
“Not that I can recall. I had very little to do with him. He came occasionally to negotiate between the prince and princess and was generally held to be the most understanding of Her Highness’s terrible position, but when I was present, I had nothing to say or do, except occasionally write what the princess told me to.”
“Did you have to write anything that reflected ill on Barden?” Harry asked. “Or on the prince regent?”
Meg shrugged. “Nothing that the world does not already know. I was always perfectly civil to him, and him to me.”
“And yet he does this?” Martha said, waving her hand at Hazel’s letter, which lay open on the table. “Apart from anything else, he was taking a terrible chance. He must have known Papa would ruin him if his part in this came out. As it has.”
“Who the devil is he?” Harry demanded. “The regent’s man, I gather and well regarded? Wealthy? Influential?”
“Not wealthy,” Staunton said unexpectedly. “He lost his fortune gaming, didn’t he? In fact… I might be wrong, but did he not lose it to the Earl of Cosland?”
Everyone stared at him.
“Juliet’s father?” Martha demanded.
“I could be wrong there,” Robert repeated.
“But you could well be right,” Harry argued. “And it would make sense. Is he paying back several old scores at once?”
“Through his enemies’ daughters?” Staunton said in outrage. “Could anyone be such a scoundrel?”
“Better ask His Grace how he annoyed the pipsqueak,” Johnny said nonchalantly.
“Perhaps it was you,” Martha said, scowling at him. “You play deep, do you not? And you could easily have stolen some woman from him. Or—”
“Acquit me,” Johnny interrupted. “Don’t believe I even know the fellow. Dash it, I can’t even shoot him, can I? The scandal would be bound to come back on Meg.”
“What we need is a military strategy,” Harry said seriously. “Martha, can you invite these ladies here to your ball?”
“It will be a tight squeeze, but yes, of course.”
“Here’s another funny thing,” Meg added, picking the letter off the table again. “Hazel is staying with Lady Sayle at Brightoaks.”
“Lady Sayle is coming to the ball,” Martha said, brightening. “And Sir Joseph. Why shouldn’t your Hazel stay with them?”
“Well, for one thing, she doesn’t usually move in such circles. For another, she doesn’t seem to like Sir Joseph. And are the Coslands coming, too?”
“No, I believe they are fixed in Yorkshire. But I’ll write to Juliet. If she can find a way to come, she will be welcome. And the other ladies.” Martha seized a pen from the desk and dipped it in ink. “What are their names again? Hazel Curwen at Brightoaks, and…?”
“Deborah Shelby. She lives in some village in Cheshire if only I could remember its name…”
Staunton lifted his head once more. “Coggleton.”
“I beg your pardon?” Martha said.
“Deborah Shelby, you say? I’m sure that’s the name. She’s the ‘nobody’ Christopher Halland has just married to get at Gosmere Hall near Coggleton.”
“Oh, no, poor Deb,” Meg said, staring at him. “To be married for such a reason…”
“Well, she must have had a say in it,” Martha said reasonably. “And from what you’ve told me, she had no one to protect her. Besides, Chris Halland is extremely charming. I shall invite them, though I suppose they may have gone off on their wedding trip.”
“And what then?” Meg demanded. “Once they are all here, how do we force Barden to take it all back?”
“Beat him,” Johnny said with an ugly curl of the lip.
“I won’t stand in your way,” Harry said politely. “But we need to know more, and we need to punish him without having Meg’s—or the other ladies’—names bandied about over duels.”
