Unmasking Deception, page 6
“I think it more likely he escaped on a whim because he didn’t want to face transportation. His family has always saved him before when his excesses took him too far. Perhaps he was afraid they had run out of tolerance for murder. Or perhaps the old marquess is in on it.”
“Oh, surely not. There are Bow Street Runners everywhere! He could not go home.”
“No, but the marquess could have arranged somewhere else safe for him. I don’t know. I’ve had to cut Gorse out of my life.”
She gazed at him with as much fascination as she could muster, which, given the subject matter, was a good deal. “Were you not with them the night it happened?”
“I was,” he admitted after a moment, his voice sad. “And I wish I had stayed with them until each was inside his own rooms. It might all have been so different.” He straightened his shoulders and cast her a bright smile. “But come, this is too sad a subject for such a beautiful day. Tell me instead how you spent your morning.”
As they entered the park and tooled along the path, Viola launched into a description of Pup’s antics in the park earlier today. Mr. Minton listened, a faint smile on his lips, but it seemed to Viola that his eyes had glazed over. Either he was not listening, or he had no sense of humor. Either way, she was clearly failing to maintain his interest. Which, now that she had talked to him as much as she really could about the murder, did not really matter. She returned to silence and began, as usual, to count the minutes until she would be home again.
Hyde Park was rarely empty, and several people walking or driving along the paths bowed to them. Viola didn’t recognize any of them until a friendly voice close by greeted her by name.
Glancing round, she found the rakish figure of Rollo Darblay loping along beside the curricle.
“How are you, cousin?” he asked cheerfully.
Rollo Darblay was tall, dark, and rather devilishly handsome. He was not, in fact, her cousin by blood, but Lady Wenning’s brother. Despite his reputation, she had always found him friendly and good-natured, and she rather liked him, for he treated her more as another sister rather than as a marriageable young lady.
“Well, of course,” she replied. “Do you know Mr. Minton?”
Rollo nodded to him without a great deal of interest and received a frigid word in return.
“Are you going to the Dorlands’ ball this evening?” she asked.
“Lord, no,” Rollo said. “I’m persona non grata there! I’ll call in during the week, though. Do you still have that enormous pup?”
“Of course!”
Rollo grinned, but since the horses sped up, there was no time for further conversation.
“I hesitate to speak ill of one connected to your family, Miss Dove,” Minton said severely. “But it is my duty to warn an innocent young lady like yourself against a man like Rollo Darblay.”
A defensive and rather sharp retort hovered on the tip of Viola’s tongue before it struck her that Minton might be warning her off Rollo from jealousy. This unlikely idea was so novel that it reduced her to silence for the rest of the outing.
*
“Why, Viola,” her mother said, entering her bedchamber that evening. “You actually look animated! And it much improves your appearance. You must actually be growing to like the Season’s entertainments. Just as they are about to end.”
“I am growing used to them,” Viola replied diplomatically. In fact, she felt more animated because she had a purpose beyond the vaguely distasteful one of attracting a man she didn’t know and didn’t really wish to. Tonight, she would seek out Lord Dominic’s brother, and, hopefully, come upon Mr. Jarvey, the other friend who had been with the murdered Mr. Crawley that night.
In the meantime, she had to rely on the children to take food to Lord Dominic and Napper, for she was given no time to vanish into the cellar. She did manage to warn them about the Runner lurking in the mews that afternoon, although there had been no sign of him on her return from the park. They had promised to be especially careful.
“And I’ll test how much one can see from the lane,” Adrian had promised.
Her mother rustled across the bedchamber, wearing the same ball gown she always did, in order to make a minor adjustment to Viola’s hair before drawing her to her feet and examining her critically. “I do like that shade of blue on you. And the sapphires Grace Wenning gave you are just perfect with it. You know, I begin to think it better that you are not seventeen and silly.”
No, I’m nineteen and harboring an escaped convict in our cellar. Moreover, I have let the children in to him, too. On the face of it, irresponsible, even insane. But even if Dominic Gorse was not the gentleman she instinctively believed him to be, he would surely not risk being turned over to the authorities before he had proved his innocence. Or done whatever it was he had escaped to do.
And Napper was an old soldier who had found respectable work and then given it up, not for money, for everyone knew the younger Gorses had none, but for belief in Lord Dominic’s cause. At least, that’s what he said, and Viola was inclined to believe him.
None of these arguments would weigh with her mother, let alone with the law. They really had to solve these matters quickly.
Accordingly, she delighted her mother by hurrying them downstairs to where their escort of the evening awaited them. They found him in the drawing room, surrounded by the children and regarding Pup with some trepidation. Adrian and Catherine were doing their best to hold the dog back, but Pup clearly longed to jump on the new human.
“Cousin Frank!” Viola greeted their escort with genuine pleasure, for they were old childhood friends.
Mr. Frank Trewthorpe, who was only a month younger than she and recently come down from Oxford for the summer, was utterly good-natured, though he clearly fancied himself as a bit of a dandy these days. His shirt points were ridiculously high so that he could barely turn his head without having to bring the rest of his body round, too. His cravat was a froth of lace interspersed with jewels, and his waistcoat eye-bogglingly bright. But his grin was just the same, and he snatched Viola’s proffered hands with great eagerness.
“Cousin Viola! Well, here’s a change from the muddy little chit who got us all into trouble so regularly!” Remembering his manners, he turned hastily to her mother, apologized for not greeting her first, and made her civil compliments which seemed to amuse her.
Everyone trooped outside to the Trewthorpe carriage, and Cousin Frank handed in the ladies with perfect courtesy.
The children and Pup waved to them from the front step, then bolted back inside, no doubt making for the kitchen and then the cellar. Viola hoped there were plenty of leftovers. Lord Dominic needed good food to build up his strength again.
Dragging her mind away from his lordship’s person, she tried to focus on the task ahead, reminding herself about subtlety.
Since the departure of the fashionable Lady Wenning from town, the debutantes who had made overtures of friendship to Viola tended now to ignore her. Viola didn’t really mind since she had found little in common with the largely empty-headed younger misses. But it did mean she would have to find a different way to circulate around the ballroom without her mother, so that she could latch on to acquaintances who might be able to help her.
Accordingly, as they entered the ballroom on Frank’s arm, she made a point of smiling directly at everyone she vaguely recognized. Normally, she pinned a vague smile to her lips and merely followed her mother, looking neither to the right nor left.
Frank efficiently found them a comfortable place to sit beside Mama’s friends, fetched glasses of champagne, and asked Viola for the first dance.
“Of course. Thank you,” Viola said politely. She lowered her voice. “Actually, Frank, I want to pick your brains.”
His eyebrows flew up. “You won’t get much of a harvest there. Ask my tutors.”
“Silly. I want to know about some of the people here.”
“I’ve only just arrived in town,” he protested. “You’ve been here all Season.”
“I know, but society makes me nervous, and I forget,” she said with more than a grain of truth.
“Well, ask away, happy to help,” Frank said. As the orchestra started up, he took a hefty gulp of champagne and set down his glass. “Shall we?”
At a nod from her mother, they walked onto the floor to join a set for the country dance. There was not much opportunity for private speech in such a figure, so she merely settled to enjoy it with a comfortable partner, and afterward, took his arm.
“Let’s not go back to Mama just yet, but take a turn about the room,” she suggested, then frowned. “Unless you have some other plan? Or commitment?”
“None,” he replied fervently. “What are you up to?”
She lowered her voice, and he bent nearer to hear. “Are you acquainted with the Marquess of Sedgemoor’s sons?”
“No, they’re a bit older than me. I did meet the youngest a couple of times, but only in larger company.”
“Lord Dominic?” she asked.
“Yes, he was a legend at school, though he’d left by the time I got there. Still a bit of a legend, I understand. What with the bear and the chickens and Batty’s bloody nose—” He broke off hastily and moved on. “Got himself into a spot of trouble, and the stories still won’t lie down. Why? You won’t meet him here!”
“Oh, no,” she agreed. “But I would like to meet one of his brothers. Lord Richard Gorse.”
“Word is, he doesn’t go into society,” Frank said, frowning at her in what looked like disapproval. “He was injured in the war, so he can’t dance. What do you want with him?” His frown deepened. “Wait, my aunt isn’t having you set your cap in that direction, is she?”
“Don’t be so vulgar, Frank. Of course not!”
“Good, because everyone knows the younger Gorse brothers have nothing. Everything goes to Rampton, the eldest, and he’s married already.”
“Is marriage and money the only reason to be interested in someone?” Viola demanded.
“Pretty much,” Frank said. “You’re on the marriage mart, cousin.”
“I hate that,” she said ruefully.
“You needn’t,” Frank said in a more jollying tone. “Any man would be proud to marry you, so you can take your pick, you know.”
As long as he’s rich enough to look after my family. At least she didn’t say the words aloud. And in truth, she had come to terms with her duty before she even arrived in London, so why she should balk at it now was beyond her comprehension. Perhaps it was Frank’s bluntness that offended her, which was hardly fair.
She glanced up at him, but he was gazing straight past her in some astonishment.
“Well, I’ll be damned!” He glanced down at her apologetically. “Begging your pardon, cousin!”
“Granted. What is it?” She followed his gaze to a group of men who had just arrived together. Most of them were in military uniform, including one with short, fair hair and an empty sleeve pinned back to his shoulder. Even from here, she could see the physical resemblance to Dominic.
“Oh. Is that Lord Richard?”
“In the flesh.”
“Could you introduce us?”
Frank stared at her. “No.”
“Not right now, obviously, but later when—”
“Viola, I only know him by sight. Happy to oblige you in any way I can, but in this case, I can’t.”
“No, I see that,” Viola allowed. “We would have to find someone to introduce you first. Don’t look so hunted, Frank, I shan’t push you.” Yet.
For the moment, she let herself be introduced to a couple of Frank’s friends and accepted an invitation to the next dance. This was almost as much fun as dancing with Frank, and as a result, she was smiling as they walked off the dance floor in the direction of her mother.
Fortunately, before they got there, she found herself face to face with Mr. Minton, who turned away from his friends to greet her.
“Miss Dove, a pleasure to see you again.”
“Thank you, sir.” She introduced her companion, to whom Minton accorded a bored nod.
“I see you are heading away from the dance floor,” Minton observed. “Does that mean you would be free for the coming waltz?”
Viola cast a quick glance around. Frank was wandering toward the card room. She had a choice between dancing with Mr. Minton or returning to Mama. She opted for Mr. Minton, awarding him a smile and her hand before thanking her forlorn previous partner.
Waltzing in a formal, fashionable ballroom would never be as exciting as doing so under the stars at Maida Gardens, but Viola did her best, focusing on her partner rather than on Lord Richard Gorse. After their conversation this afternoon, she did not even feel able to show any further interest in the Gorse family.
“I have to tell you, you look utterly charming tonight,” Minton said.
Viola smiled politely and thanked him, although she was faintly surprised to read what seemed to be genuine admiration in his eyes. Taken with his apparent jealousy of Rollo Darblay this afternoon, did Minton actually like her then? Viola had always supposed he either felt sorry for her or meant to use her to approach the incomparably beautiful Lady Wenning.
The suspicion of attraction confused her for a moment. Was this not why she was here? Only Mama had already rejected Mr. Minton for being a younger son. In truth, although she had never disliked Mr. Minton, he had always made her slightly uncomfortable, and her interest in him now was really only as far as he connected to Lord Dominic’s troubles.
Subtlety, Viola, she reminded herself as she conversed on other matters, wherever he led. But the dance had only just ended when they were confronted by another man.
“George,” he said, smiling. “I thought it was you, improbable as it might seem, stealing a waltz with such a lovely lady. Won’t you present me?”
Mr. Minton looked anything but gratified. “Allow me to introduce my brother, Sir Alfred Minton,” he said shortly. “Alfred, Miss Dove. You must excuse us.”
But though couples were milling past them on both sides, Sir Alfred showed no sign of removing himself from their path. Instead, he bowed with incomparable grace.
“No, I mustn’t,” he said jovially. “Will Miss Dove allow me the pleasure of a turn about the ballroom in her company? Perhaps with a glass of champagne?”
“Miss Dove would rather be returned to her mother,” the younger Minton retorted, thereby assuring Viola did no such thing.
She smiled at the younger brother and took the proffered arm of the elder. “Thank you, sir. A glass of champagne sounds delicious.”
The laughter in Sir Alfred’s eyes was more than a little wicked. “I believe my little brother is furious to have lost you.”
“I don’t believe one can be lost in a ballroom,” she said dryly. “Least of all when one is supposedly honored merely to annoy a sibling. Is that not a little childish?”
Sir Alfred blinked, then laughed and snatched a couple of glasses from a tray held by a passing footman. “Why, now I am even more intrigued. You are right, of course, it is childish but quite irresistible when the prize is as beautiful as you.”
“I am no prize,” she warned.
“You must allow me to be the judge of that. But if you saw through my motives, why did you agree to join me?”
“A perverse dislike of having even more decisions taken from me.”
Sir Alfred laughed just as he was greeted by a gentleman in the midst of another group. “Minton, old fellow, how are you?”
Sir Alfred nodded to the acquaintance, who was in dashing red and gold uniform. He clearly meant to pass on, but Viola suddenly realized that Lord Richard Gorse was one of this group.
Clearly taking Sir Alfred by surprise, she dug in her heels, and he was forced to stop. And when everyone turned toward them, he had no choice but to introduce her.
Despite a rather nasty scar down one side of his face that gave him a slightly sneering look, Lord Richard Gorse was a handsome man, though where Dominic seemed determined to be cheerful even while escaping from the law, Richard looked as if the weight of the world sat on his shoulders. He bowed to Viola with perfect courtesy, but he said little in the subsequent conversations, seeming patient rather than interested in the talk going on around him.
Viola, under pretense of finding a place to set down her wine glass, moved farther from Sir Alfred Minton and closer to Lord Richard.
“I believe we met at the Venetian breakfast last week,” one of the gentlemen said to her with a smile.
“Indeed we did,” Viola said, smiling, although she had no real recollection of it.
“Miss Dove is Lord Wenning’s cousin,” the other lady in the group informed everyone else. “Are the Wennings planning to return to London before the end of the Season, Miss Dove?”
“I believe they are fixed in the country for the summer at least,” Viola replied. “But I could not say with certainty.” She tried to keep track of the conversations, adding a word here or there, while endeavoring not to stare at the silent Lord Richard.
And just as a gap in the conversation gave her the opportunity to address him, he murmured, “Excuse me,” to the group, bowed to the ladies, and moved back.
Frustrated, Viola took a step after him. “Oh, my lord, I believe I met a friend of yours the other day.”
Now two steps away from the rest of the group, Lord Richard paused and turned politely back to her.
“He wanted to be remembered to you, so I am so glad we met.” She held out her hand, leaving him no polite choice but to take it in his and bow over it. His eyebrows twitched as he felt the stiff little note pressing into his palm. “My lord,” she said, inclining her head and turned back to the rest of the group.
She didn’t glance back at him but at once added a word or two to the ongoing conversation, and no one seemed to think her behavior odd or reprehensible. After all, she had taken only a moment to deliver the note, which Lord Richard had instinctively grasped. She felt rather pleased with herself.
Even her mother’s sending Frank to retrieve her couldn’t dampen her spirits. She excused herself to Sir Alfred and the others and walked blithely off on Frank’s arm.
