Unmasking Deception, page 22
“Lady Trewthorpe, your servant,” he drawled. “A pleasure to see you here this evening. I trust your ladyship is as well as you look?”
“I have always enjoyed excellent health,” Lady Trewthorpe snapped. “Though I’m surprised to see you here among these young people.”
Damn it, I’m not exactly Methuselah! He smiled, saying vaguely. “Oh, connections, you know. Won’t you introduce me to your beautiful companion?”
“Very well. This is Mr. Minton, my dear. Sir, Miss Gavelston, the daughter of my dearest friend.”
The heiress’s eyes were wide and curious and, yes, admiring. He bowed over her outstretched hand, and then, since he had timed his intervention to perfection, the trio of musicians in the corner struck up a waltz.
“Is Miss Gavelston permitted to waltz with me?” he inquired.
“Oh, I would love to,” Miss Gavelston exclaimed artlessly. “May I, my lady?”
“Of course,” Lady Trewthorpe said graciously.
Gravely, Minton offered his arm to the heiress, and she took it.
“I’ve never waltzed in public before,” she admitted artlessly as they walked onto the floor with the other dancers. “I pray I shall not tread on your toes!”
“What, so graceful a creature as yourself? I doubt it.” He kept a trace of ennui in his voice just to maintain her interest and pose a challenge, and he was glad to see her exert herself to entertain. He allowed himself to be faintly amused, even intrigued at one point. In fact, it was all going swimmingly when he recognized disaster.
Over Miss Gavelston’s head, he again beheld Viola Dove talking to one of the young ladies. And with the sight of both women together, he remembered where he had seen Miss Gavelston before.
At the wretched inn at Knowton, a sulky girl being dragged home by her harassed guardian, gazing at Viola with uncertainty and pity… And Viola was here.
He could not help staring at Miss Gavelston now while his hopes began to fall around his ears. It was only a matter of time until she noticed Viola and called her his wife! And in any case, how could he induce the heiress to marry him when Viola was supposed to be his wife? Someone, anyone, would reveal that she wasn’t, and then he was discovered as the villain of both pieces!
For an instant, a flash of anxiety showed in the girl’s eyes, then she smiled ruefully. “Have you remembered me, sir? I remember you. I am so sorry about your poor wife.”
“Thank you.” It came out as a croak, but with the flood of relief came inspiration. “I have a confession to make. She is not my wife, but a distant cousin whose ailing father asked me to fetch home to Buckinghamshire, for her mother in London could not manage her. As it turned out, neither could he, so her mother came home, too. And since she grew much calmer, as you see, they brought her back to London.”
“Then it is her!” Miss Gavelston exclaimed with a quick glance at Viola. “I thought it must be your wife’s sister!”
“No. The wife part was a fiction, in case you had not guessed, to preserve what is left of the lady’s reputation. I am, after all, only a distant cousin, but the one her family calls upon for help.” That, he thought proudly, was rather a clever touch. “I trust I may rely on your discretion, Miss Gavelston?”
“Of course!”
He smiled. “I knew I could. After all, we were already in each other’s confidence, were we not?”
She smiled so dazzlingly that he began to think he would like this arrangement very well indeed.
But then her eyes widened. She gazed over his shoulder toward the door and exclaimed, “Oh, please do tell me! Is that Lord Dominic Gorse?”
Taken by surprise, Minton jerked ungracefully, and yes, there he was! Flanked by two brothers, looking as restless and ripe for mischief as ever, Dominic had clearly just greeted his hostess and now swaggered into the room like some Byronic hero with a sense of humor. No one would have guessed he had ever been in Newgate or convicted of murder, let alone that he had escaped and lived as a fugitive for over a week. Nothing, it seemed, could shake the self-confidence of the man Minton had decided should pay for Crawley’s murder.
And, of course, he drew no small stir. Everyone in the room gawped at him, whispering with excitement and curiosity. And he, of course, didn’t appear to notice.
Minton was assailed once more with that overwhelming mix of envy, admiration, and hatred.
“Oh yes, that’s Dom,” he said bitterly, for Dominic Gorse was everything he secretly wished to be—popular, amusing, handsome, a careless rakehell who was yet completely accepting of his own poverty. Even the devils that rode him always seemed more romantically dangerous than ugly and evil. Like now when almost fresh from Newgate, he turned up at this pre-debutante party without even realizing his inappropriateness. And the chaperones did not stand up and drag their darlings away, although they might have cast a few anxious glances in their direction. On the whole, they preened.
“You know him?” Miss Gavelston said, apparently awed.
“I’m afraid I do.”
At least her gaze left Gorse to come back to him. “Afraid?”
“If you must know, his friends feel let down by him. Beyond a certain line, even the most tolerant gentleman must cut such a friendship.”
“But I heard he was wrongly convicted. He is innocent.”
“Dom was never innocent,” Minton said savagely and hastily modified his tone. “His family, clearly, have intervened.”
“Then you still think he is a—a murderer?”
“My dear Miss Gavelston, this is no subject for polite company. Dominic Gorse is blatant but must deal with his own devils. As must we all,” he added mysteriously, recognizing that the look of intrigue in the girl’s eyes hadn’t quite died. “Of course, he is very young and does not yet understand.”
Gratified by her expression of curious admiration, he breathed a sigh of relief and thought the night was not yet lost. Though he wasn’t sure, he could handle many more surprises.
*
Viola regarded her role of the evening as protecting Lucy Gavelston. Therefore, she had been keeping a close if surreptitious watch on the girl as she waltzed, inevitably, with Minton. She had seen the distracted, avid gleam in Lucy’s expression and even hoped Frank did not have a rival when she had followed the girl’s gaze to the stir at the door—and froze.
Dominic strolled into the room as though he owned it, greeting his hosts with casual courtesy, just as if he had not spent the last weeks in Newgate and on the run from transportation.
This had not been part of the plan. Surely he would merely draw attention from Minton and Lucy…
Or was that his plan? It was impossible to tell from his brothers, Lords Charles and William, whether or not they approved, but certainly, they did not stray far from his side as he sauntered around the ballroom. He acknowledged everyone who met his gaze, stopped by those who addressed him, and passed by those who were clearly wary.
“What is he doing here?” her mother hissed in her ear.
“Enjoying himself, I suspect.”
And Minton had noticed. Though still the epitome of the slightly bored if indulgent man of fashion, his gaze flickered frequently to Dominic as though wondering what the devil he was up to. Viola shared his curiosity. She had the feeling that post-Season parties for pre-debutantes were hardly Dominic’s natural habitat. On the other hand, there were not so many other events for him to swagger into, to prove to the world he did not care that society had once shunned him and believed him guilty of a squalid crime.
“Mrs. Dove. Miss Dove,” Lord William greeted them, perhaps saving Dominic from giving away the fact that he knew them already. He flicked one casual hand as though introducing his brothers and promptly slid into the seat next to Viola.
Dominic’s lips curved, and his gaze met Viola’s at last. Her heart plunged, scattering delicious memories of the previous night, of passion and words of love. “Look after my brothers, if you would be so good,” he murmured.
“Why, where are you going?” William demanded in alarm.
“To scare Minton, of course.”
William and Charles would both have started after him, only Viola placed her hand on William’s arm and said quickly, “You’ll only draw attention to him and scare our man off.”
They did their best to make conversation while Dominic strolled up to Minton, who was preparing to return his partner to Lady Trewthorpe.
While trying to hide her observation, Viola saw him greet Minton with extreme casualness, as though they had only parted at their club earlier the same day. Then he turned immediately to Lucy Gavelston, clearly awaiting an introduction.
Viola could feel Minton’s fury from where she sat. Minton tried to make it brief, to steer Lucy immediately back to Lady Trewthorpe, but somehow Dominic had got hold of the heiress’s hand, and she was laughing up at him in a way that tugged at Viola’s heart. Lucy’s hand slipped into the crook of Dominic’s arm, and they began to stroll the room together.
There was nothing Minton could do except smile and wander off toward Jarvey, who was, Viola noted, looking thoroughly rattled.
“I don’t suppose you would care to dance?” Lord Charles said.
Viola dragged her attention to him with an effort. “You’re very kind, but I believe the point of the evening is for you to dance with the younger ladies. I’m only here to make up numbers.”
“Or dance with the callow youths?” Lord Charles murmured as one approached and bowed awkwardly to her mother.
Her partner, whose name she hadn’t caught, seemed flatteringly awed by her. She tried to put him at his ease, while trying equally hard not to look at Dominic and Lucy Gavelston. The few glances she did cast at them, he appeared to flirt outrageously with her, and an ache she had barely noticed in the pit of her stomach rose up with increasing sharpness.
It appalled her to realize that Lucy and Dominic were perfect together. Beautiful, vital, and self-assured. He needed money, and she had plenty.
So, what was last night?
A moment of madness. She had always known that. Not that she doubted his sincerity. He had meant it at the time. A spontaneous outpouring of emotion and passion—for the only woman he had seen in weeks.
I am jealous, she realized, appalled. And if I trust him so little, if I believe so little in his promises, do I deserve him?
Her gaze fell on Minton, whose eyes had narrowed. Jarvey was talking quietly and urgently beside him, and he hushed him with an impatient flick of the hand.
Jealous or not, stupid or not, she realized what Dominic was doing—imbuing Minton with a sense of urgency, preparing him to take the bait.
Supper was served at ten o’clock, and the young ladies took it in company with their last dance partner. For Lucy, that was Minton, who appeared to be shining again in Dominic’s absence.
Dominic himself vanished in the opposite direction, sparing Viola a mere wink as he sauntered out the door, giving his brothers the slip. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry or slap him, but this was, probably, a foretaste of life with Dominic Gorse.
If he still wanted her.
She did not speak to Lucy until they met in the cloakroom.
The younger girl came up to her, smiling conspiratorially. “Midday at Maida Pleasure Gardens,” she breathed, “the day after tomorrow.”
*
The following day, Frank escorted Lucy Gavelston on a visit to the Doves. The children, who had lost control of Pup at the time and were trying to catch him before he bolted out of the open front door, were highly impressed when the heiress simply threw her arms around the dog’s neck.
Stopped in his tracks, Pup was easily distracted into sniffing and licking the newcomer’s face instead and was only hauled off with difficulty and a good deal of laughter. In this way, Lucy was introduced to the whole family. And far from finding the household eccentric, she seemed delighted.
“You are lucky to have so many siblings,” she told Viola when Miss Mather eventually managed to restore order and haul the children back to the schoolroom. “You must never get bored.”
“Rarely,” Viola agreed with a quick smile. She sat down by the tea tray Sarah brought in and began to pour. “You managed excellently last night. I thought it would take at least another meeting to arrange the assignation.”
“I think he is desperate,” Lucy said candidly. “He seemed…different once Lord Dominic arrived.”
“What did they say to each other?” Viola asked because she couldn’t help it.
“Nothing very much. His lordship said what a pleasure it was to meet an old acquaintance here or some such, and then immediately asked to be presented to me. I could see Minton didn’t want to, but he introduced us, then said something about being glad to see Lord Dominic’s troubles were behind him.”
“And what did Lord Dominic say?”
“He smiled and said they soon would be.”
“Yes, he was definitely frightening Minton! And did Minton recognize you from the inn?”
“I could see the moment he remembered me and immediately said I was so sorry about his poor wife and how difficult it must be for him. To be honest, I thought it might make it easier to arrange the assignation, as though I trusted him because he was married. But then he told me you were not really his wife—that had been said to preserve your reputation, no less—but a cousin whom he was selflessly helping. He really is a bounder, isn’t he?”
“He’s a nasty, lying, murdering toad,” Viola said frankly. “And you managed him magnificently.”
Lucy grinned, suddenly appearing much younger. “Then I look forward to Maida Gardens. Will Lord Dominic be there?”
“I see no way to prevent him.”
“He is very handsome and very dashing, is he not?”
Viola’s stomach tightened. She forced a smile. “Indeed.”
“I wonder if he would make a comfortable husband?”
The pain grew sharper. “Not comfortable,” she managed. But the only one I shall ever want. She swallowed for courage, but her question—Do you wish him to be yours?—died unspoken on her lips as her mother came in and put an end to the tete-a-tete.
Chapter Twenty-One
George Minton was not in the habit of frequenting vulgar places like Maida Gardens. Gin parlors owned by champion prizefighters and certain houses of ill-repute at least had an air of rakish fashion about them. Maida Pleasure Gardens were simply tired and passé, and in daylight, the peeling paint and disrepair had fewer places to hide.
With a sneer, Minton, who had arrived more than an hour early, sought out the heiress’s chosen rendezvous, a very idealized—and tatty—Grecian temple. At first sight, it seemed a discreet and sensible place for an assignation, close enough to a side exit for a quick escape to the post chaise he had hired to Scotland, yet off the main path.
However, the side gate was locked, and there were no guarantees he would be able to persuade the girl to flee with him willingly. Once he had her safe in the carriage, he would make damned sure of her cooperation, but until then, he did not fancy his chances of trying to throw or heave her over the gate. Not without her making a racket, at any rate.
Besides, there was some kind of performance being set up just across the hedge from the temple. Jugglers of some kind. It was just too close to humanity.
Minton prowled farther off the path but turned back toward the main gate. And after a few minutes’ walk, he came upon an overgrown clearing with a ruined folly. A tower had come partially off, some of the stone sitting amongst the nearby weeds and wildflowers. But the lower floor was intact. Only a smallish hole revealed the sky and the damaged tower.
However, its main attraction to Minton was that it had two small rooms. No door, but an arch between provided somewhere to hide from passers-by or from Miss Gavelston’s curious friends, if necessary.
Hastily, he took out a calling card and a pencil and scribbled on the back before marching down to the gate to wait for the heiress’s arrival.
*
Since Mrs. Dove would never have countenanced, let alone accompanied Viola, on the visit to Maida, Viola again called in her old friend Amelia Hornchurch. Amelia was more than happy to be distracted from a dull day while her husband was at his bank. She even made use of the town carriage presented to her by Matthew, so the journey would have been quite comfortable were it not for the knot of nerves tightening her stomach.
“That hat, my dear,” Amelia remarked, finally noting the monstrosity on Viola’s head, “is dreadful.”
“I know, but it covers most of my face, and I don’t want Minton catching sight of me.”
Amelia’s gaze shifted lower. “Well, you’re certainly not your usual tasteful, understated self.”
“We made them for dressing up from one of Grandmama’s huge skirts,” Viola confessed. “I never thought to wear it in company. I won’t let you down, will I?”
Amelia laughed. “Lord, no, the bold look actually suits you, and no one in Maida will notice things like cut and stitching! So tell me quickly! What is the plan?”
As Viola explained it, she realized all over again how safe and certain it all was.
Her smugness lasted, however, only until they sat down at an outside table in the sunshine and ordered ices. While they waited, Amelia hurried up to the pavilion in search of a cloakroom—and someone dropped something onto the table in front of her.
Instinctively, she closed her hand over the object, which turned out to be a small, folded piece of thick paper or card. She glanced around in time to see Lucy Gavelston walking on to a large table full of young people, including Frank and a collection of actors and actresses hired by the Gorses.
Viola turned her back to them once more and unfolded the calling card Lucy had dropped. She recognized it at once as George Minton’s, for she had seen the shape of the printed letters often enough in her own front hall.
Her stomach knotted. For Lucy to be so secretive, Minton must be close by. She turned the card, and the scrawled message on the other side danced before her eyes, making no sense whatsoever.
