Unmasked by her Lover, page 16
“Goodness, no,” Meg exclaimed. “No duels! That could go horribly wrong. But do you think he will really come here and face my father after ruining me?”
“Don’t go around saying he ruined you, Meg,” Johnny advised uneasily. “But it brings up a fair point. Do we tell His Grace?”
“Perhaps we should find out first if Barden has cause for a grudge against him? Or against any of us. And in the meantime, Martha, I’ll help you write to the others,” Meg said, sitting down beside Martha at the desk.
But Martha sprang to her feet. “Oh, drat, we can’t right now. It’s dinner time. After dinner, we shall find time to write.”
“It’s almost like being children again,” Meg confided in Harry as they left the library for the drawing room. “All of us together, plotting some adventure or other.”
“I’m sure we’ll make much better plotters now.”
*
Before and during dinner that evening, Meg noticed Calvert’s gaze on his wife. He seemed distracted, almost bemused, but there was some new wonder in his eyes, as though Martha had done something extraordinary, something miraculous.
Which, of course, she had. Conceiving a child… The echo of Martha’s happiness in her condition still lingered in Meg. She knew the first-ever stirrings of longing for a family of her own. And the man who stood by her side in such imaginings bore Harry’s face.
But if I love Harry…this is terrible, for he does not wish to marry me.
Then why does he kiss me?
He is a soldier, home from war. I was there. But no, that did not ring true, not for Harry. Besides, she was not so naïve. There were plenty of beautiful women with whom he could enjoy much more intimate relations.
Perhaps he does. Dismay and jealousy twisted through her as she thought of Aline, now his ally in thwarting and unmasking Garrow and his partner. And Aline had made it plain from the beginning that she liked him.
However, when she risked a glance at Aline, she was flirting across the table with her eyes, not with Harry but with Johnny. If Garrow noticed at all, the flirtation did not disturb him.
Later, when the ladies had left the gentlemen to their wine and gathered in the drawing room, Meg found Aline beside her at the pianoforte as she idly depressed a slightly out of tune key. There was no one else within hearing distance.
“Harry told me what you did,” Meg murmured. “Thank you, but is Garrow not angry with you now? Or does he think Harry suspects him and stole it back?”
“Oh, no. I told him the maid found it on his floor, and I recognized it as Lord Harry’s. So, the girl put it back in his lordship’s chamber. Garrow does not really care since he’d decided the ring had nothing to tell him. I’m glad your sister is home.”
“So am I,” Meg said fervently. “It makes for much more relaxing evenings.”
Aline laughed just as Calvert led the gentlemen in to join them. Harry, engrossed in a conversation, did not look their way. His head was slightly bent toward the shorter man beside him, a faint smile playing on his lips that caught at Meg’s breath. A surreptitious glance at Aline found her exchanging smiles with Johnny.
“Oh dear,” Meg said impulsively. “Has no one warned you about my brother?”
Aline cast her a cynical glance. “My dear Lady Meg, no one needed to. A woman like me does not expect honorable intentions from a duke’s heir.”
Meg frowned. “But you should. You are braver and nobler than any of us.”
Aline looked startled. Then her rather hard eyes softened. “You are kind, but it is not the way of the world.”
Johnny arrived beside them at that point with another guest in tow. He tugged Meg aside. “His Grace lent Barden quite a substantial sum of money some years ago and has barely seen any of it back. Conference in my chamber.”
After a pleasant evening during which several ladies entertained with songs at the pianoforte, and a few games of cards ensued, the party broke up for the night. Rather to Meg’s surprise, when she walked into Johnny’s bedchamber, her brother was already there, along with Martha, Harry, and Robert Staunton. She had been quite expecting to hold the conference without their host.
She peered at him. “Are you growing responsible?”
“No,” Johnny said uncompromisingly. “I just want to annihilate this Barden of yours.”
“So, he owes Papa money,” Martha said. “Perhaps he is trying to extort more by offering to recant the story? Or persuade His Grace to cancel the existing debt?”
“Does he live only on borrowed money?” Harry asked.
“And a pittance from the prince regent,” Robert said. “His lands are heavily mortgaged or sold outright, and his main seat is rented out. He lives in rooms on the very edge of St. James.”
“So is this simple extortion of money?” Meg wondered. “It was not so with Hazel.”
“Perhaps he is killing two birds with one stone,” Johnny said.
“Or four birds,” Harry said grimly. “But it seems there is little we can do until we speak to the other ladies and get Barden under our roof.”
“Then let us write some letters,” Martha said, rising. “We’ll go to my apartments. Meg.”
Meg left with her obediently enough. Harry held the door for them, and the surge of awareness as she walked past him took her by surprise. Her gaze flew up to his, and she could not breathe. The warm smile in his eyes overwhelmed her. God knew what kind of a fool she would have made of herself had Martha not tugged her out by the arm.
In the passage, blinking sense back into her bemused brain, Meg hung back. “Is it sensible for me to go to your apartments right now?”
“You mean Calvert?” Martha said bluntly. “He will want to help with this. Besides, he won’t come in.”
Despite its current convenience, Meg could not help thinking that was a bad thing for her sister’s marriage.
Chapter Sixteen
The invitations to the other ladies-in-waiting were sent out, each enclosed with a quick explanatory note from Meg.
“I hope they reach them in time,” Meg said anxiously. “Otherwise, we won’t know exactly what he’s up to.”
“There are other ways,” Harry replied. They were riding out for an al fresco party by the lake.
“I probably don’t want to know about those. Harry, you won’t do anything silly, will you? Anything dangerous?”
“No,” he replied.
But then, he was a soldier. His definition of danger was different from hers and from Barden’s.
As the days wore on, most in glorious sunshine, the Calverts welcomed more guests to their home. Among the rounds of pleasure—expeditions to the local market town, walks and rides, and luncheons, boating on the lake, soirees, and card parties—Meg found herself watching everyone’s interaction with Garrow, in case one of them was his spymaster. She knew Aline and Harry watched, too.
She was not blind to the reaction of some guests when they first came face to face with her. No one cut her, but by their expressions, the scandal had clearly reached their ears. Some looked appalled, others uncertain. However, the firm assertion of all that Meg had been with her sister when the princess departed London must have had an effect, for ladies were soon friendlier and gentleman more attentive.
Meg found she did not much care beyond how it affected the success of her sister’s party. She rather despised those who blew hot and cold depending on the sway of gossip. But one of the things that appeared to sway opinion in her direction was the reported marriage of Sir Joseph Sayle.
This appeared in several newspapers which guests had brought from London and Sussex on the same day Martha received a reply to her invitation. Like the newspapers, the letter announced Sir Joseph’s marriage to Miss Hazel Curwen, daughter of Captain Curwen of the Royal Navy.
“Well,” Meg said, stunned when Martha waved the letter in her face. “Who would have thought it!” She laughed. “But you know, I can see them together. I’ll wager anything it’s a love match if a somewhat sudden one.”
“A convenient one for the rest of you,” Martha pointed out. “For Sir Joseph marrying her with the Sayles’ approval, vindicates her and you to a large extent. Unless the world believes Joe Sayle has lost his senses. In any case, he and his new wife are about to leave for Europe on their wedding trip before he takes up a post at the Peace Congress in Vienna. But they will come to the ball. They should be here tomorrow!”
*
Sir Joseph and Lady Sayle arrived in the middle of a game of hide-and-seek. The game had begun to entertain Aline’s son, Basil, but had expanded to include most of the younger adult guests.
Meg, in fact, had lost interest in the game and was perched on a low, shady tree branch, reading her book without any expectation of discovery. She was mostly concealed by foliage and had been enjoying the peace, interspersed with observing those who wandered past, whether in the game or out.
Captain Garrow had walked past her twice, once in company with a group of ladies, once with two gentlemen enjoying cigarillos. Their conversation had been innocuous. No one else had passed for some time, and Meg was drawn deeper into Mrs. Radcliffe’s tale until her surroundings faded from her mind.
When her covering branches were suddenly pulled back, she started, losing both book and balance, and tumbled from her branch straight into two strong arms. Harry’s.
Her plunging stomach now somersaulted for quite different reasons. For he held her close to his hard chest and his heart beat rhythmically beneath her palm. His eyes were warm but not even slightly surprised. How delicious, how heady to be held like this…
“I brought you Lady Sayle,” he said mildly.
Only then did she become aware of the couple standing beside him. Hazel, in a very fetching Pomona day gown, was smiling a little shyly. Sir Joseph, immaculate as always, stepped forward to pick up her fallen book.
With a squeak, Meg all but leapt out of Harry’s arms, though she landed rather softly on her feet.
“Hazel!” she exclaimed, holding out both hands and then embracing her. “How are you? You look wonderful.”
Flushing, Hazel said, “Thank you, so do you! I don’t need to present my husband, do I?”
Yes, there was definite pride in the words my husband, and in Sir Joseph’s smile as he bowed over Meg’s hand.
“Indeed not,” he said, “Lady Meg and I are old friends.”
“And you have met Lord Harry, I gather. We should go inside and have tea. Oh.” She stopped, frowning at Harry. “You don’t suppose poor Basil is still hiding, do you?”
“No,” Harry said gravely. “The game finished half an hour ago.”
As she and Hazel walked together toward the house, Meg asked, “So how came you to be married to Sir Joseph only two weeks after we last met?”
“Oh, it is a long story for a short space of time! Suffice it to say, he came to my aid at the inn when I missed the stagecoach.”
Although Meg searched her face, she could find no trace of anxiety or unease with her position. “You seem happy.”
Hazel smiled. “Joe has reminded me there is fun in life. I don’t think my brain has quite caught up with the fact that I am his wife, but yes, I am very happy to be so. I even find it hard to hate Lord Barden for what he did, since if he hadn’t, I would probably never have encountered Joe again.” She waved that away. “However, that is selfish, and I shall be more than happy to end this scandal if we can. Is he really coming here? Among your family?”
“Yes, we expect him on Wednesday. But I suppose we must not talk where people can hear. We shall have a conference after dinner…”
*
Hazel did not bat an eyelid when Meg dragged her and Sir Joseph into Johnny’s bedchamber that evening. Neither did Sir Joseph, who bowed with incomparable elegance to Martha and greeted Johnny with a casual, “Evening, Fish,” before sitting cross-legged on the floor beside him. Martha and Meg sat on the bed. Hazel in the armchair, and Staunton on the chair by the desk. Harry leaned one shoulder against the mantelpiece.
“Are we all conspirators?” Sir Joseph inquired.
“Oh yes,” Johnny replied. “We’ve known Staunton and Harry forever and trust them implicitly. Besides, we’re relying on Harry for some military strategy! Or is it tactics?”
“Both, probably.” Harry eased his leg. “So, may we ask how you left Barden?”
“Literally rolled up and bundled out of my house,” Sir Joseph replied. “He was using the scandal to try and extort favors from Hazel. From there, we now know he went to the Earl of Cosland in Yorkshire—Lady Juliet’s father.”
“With what possible purpose?” Meg demanded. “I would have expected Lord Cosland to throw him out on his ear, for surely he must know—”
“Lady Juliet must tell you herself, but I believe Cosland felt some kind of guilt toward him and was anxious for Lady Juliet to make a decent marriage.”
“Oh, no, not to Barden!” Meg exclaimed.
“Well, that was Barden’s idea,” Hazel said, delving into her reticule and fishing out a folded letter. “I received this from Juliet the day we left Brightoaks. Barden tried to extort her hand in marriage, plus a huge dowry from Cosland. But Juliet seems to have thwarted them all by marrying someone else entirely.”
Meg’s mouth dropped. “Juliet is married, too?”
“To someone called Stewart. Daniel Stewart. They, too, sent Barden off with a flea in his ear.”
“With impunity?” Harry asked. “Has he not retaliated by printing more lies?”
“He’s still whispering his poison,” Robert pointed out.
“But there’s no trace of the press he used,” Meg pointed out. “My father looked to have it shut down and found it already gone.”
“Do you know what he has against you, Meg?” Hazel asked.
“We think he owes my father money,” Meg replied, “so he may be trying to avoid paying it back. But even so, it’s a lot of trouble for something my father’s unlikely to dun him for. Although his people might. What of Deb? Her mother is the widow of a respectable but poor country vicar. The family lives quietly in a Cheshire village. What on earth could he have against her or her family?”
“She’ll be wealthy, now she’s married Christopher Halland,” Robert pointed out. “But I suppose that doesn’t explain why he ruined her before. She was not betrothed to Halland then, was she?”
“Not that I ever heard,” Meg replied. “Of the four of us, only Juliet was betrothed, and the scandal seems to have ended that. We need to speak to her.”
“Still,” Harry said, “it appears he went after you all for different reasons, using the same contrived scandal to get his way.”
“Well, it hasn’t worked on Juliet or me,” Hazel pointed out. “And surely Deb is protected by the Hallands?”
“Halland’s a Member of Parliament,” Sir Joseph pointed out. “And, despite his previously—er… hedonistic lifestyle, he is susceptible to public scandal. If Barden has adapted to your Deb’s new circumstances, whatever he wanted of her in the first place could be augmented by Halland money.”
“Enough to live on?” Robert said doubtfully. “He’s the prince regent’s man. He has a position to keep up, even without his old estates.”
Johnny curled his lip. “I don’t fancy his chances of extorting money from His Grace, and I’d as soon shoot him as give him a groat.”
“But he is probably desperate,” Harry pointed out. “He has tried and failed to marry Lady Juliet, which must have been his longest-term plan. When he arrives here, we’ll need to watch him, protect the duke and Meg, while we find a way to draw his claws.”
“And punch him in the nose if I can’t shoot him,” Johnny added.
“I’ll see what I can do,” Harry promised.
*
The following morning before breakfast, Meg wandered into the garden to be greeted by the sight of Harry and Aline seated on a bench together, apparently deep in conversation. Basil played in front of them, making some kind of castle out of the earth in the flower bed.
Knowing that Aline was not married to Garrow made Meg’s twinges of jealousy sharper. For despite Aline’s unknown birth, Meg knew she was just the sort of partner Harry should have—brave and intelligent and fun.
She turned hastily away from them to walk down a different path, but it was too late. She had been seen.
Aline waved. “Lady Meg!”
“Good morning.” Meg would have walked on with a wave back to Basil, but Aline was beckoning. Reluctantly, for she did not like the green-eyed monster within her, she changed direction and walked toward them. Basil grinned, jumped up and bowed, then dropped straight back to his castle.
Harry rose from the bench, smiling in a way that set butterflies leaping in her stomach, and let her sit beside Aline before he perched next to her. She wished she wasn’t quite so aware of his warm knee almost touching hers through the thin fabric of her gown as he half turned toward the ladies.
Aline said, “I was telling Lord Harry, I think Garrow has given up on him. He has done everything to find out what, if anything, he knows and has finally decided he knows nothing against him.”
“Well, I think you might have helped his thoughts head in that direction,” Harry said wryly.
Aline shrugged. “It wasn’t difficult. He has been talking to you, to everyone who knows you, including your brother, and discovered nothing to indicate you suspect him, let alone have proof. Having spent rather obvious time in your company, I was able to assure him I agreed but would keep with you, just in case.” She smiled. “It is, of course, my pleasure.”
With an effort, Meg managed not to sniff.
“It’s true I know nothing against him,” Harry said, taking Dewar’s ring from his pocket, “except that we never liked each other much. And yet you both assumed I did.”
“We both assumed Captain Dewar did,” Aline corrected, “and told you, somehow.”
Harry gazed down at the ring, turning it in his strong, bronzed fingers. Meg could not help remembering their caress, imagining their more intimate touch on her naked skin. She dragged her gaze away, then glanced up at his face.
