Maria waved one hand to encompass the whole castle. “Clearly you do.” Her hand still held the letter given to her by the maid, and she glanced at it now, as if she had just remembered its existence.
She stopped dead at the top of the stairs, her face whitening so quickly that she reached out blindly for support. He seized her arm just as her knees buckled.
Chapter Six
“Maria? What…?”
She seemed to pull herself together with a gasp and straightened. He could hear voices approaching from the landing above and from instinct, he pulled her on along the gallery to the library where at least she could draw breath.
By the time he whisked her inside and handed her to the nearest chair, she was trembling, staring at the letter. He saw that it was directed in an overly ornate hand merely to Lady Maria Conway, with no mention of her address.
“I should not open this,” she whispered.
“Why not?”
“I know who it’s from. I know his hand. I don’t want to hear from him, and he is not meant to—” She broke off. “I should give it directly to Alan.”
“Alan?”
“Lord Torridon, my sister’s husband. He will kill him.” She dragged the backs of her gloved fingers across her cheeks. “I can’t let that happen either. What on earth am I…?” She broke off again, blinking, and forced out a laugh before jumping to her feet. “I must go and—”
“Stay,” Michael interrupted. “Don’t go like that. You look as if you’ll faint.”
“How can he still do this to me?” she demanded, both despairing and furious.
“He can’t,” Michael said firmly. “Shall I burn it for you?”
She thrust it toward him, then snatched it back before he could grasp it. “If you do, I’ll never know what the worm wants. He might intend some harm to my family, to me, that I have no warning of.”
“Why would he do such a thing?”
She shuddered. “You are too good a man to understand.” She almost ground the letter between her finger and thumb as though destroying it. Then abruptly, she unsealed it and read. He watched her face as she scanned the words, saw the horror and rage and shame before her eyes closed.
He crouched in front of her chair. “May I help?” he asked urgently.
Without opening her eyes, she thrust the letter into his hands. “Know the worst of me, then. I’d rather you did before the rest of the world.”
Frowning, he turned the letter the right way up. There was no direction of the sender, merely yesterday’s date.
My dear Maria, it began familiarly. What a delicious surprise to see you in town yesterday. A whole year has passed since you declared your undying love, and I find myself in the position of needing some proof. I am, of course, happy to renew our plan of last year, but if it is more convenient to you, I shall make do with your pin-money as a beginning and then, since I understand you are about to contract a most advantageous marriage, a quarterly pension will be acceptable. Should you fail to reply by the end of the ball, my concern will obviously lead me to make inquiries to Lord U and Lord and Lady B.
I remain, of course, your abjectly humble servant, G.
He raised his gaze from the letter to find her eyes open now and staring at him like a puppy expecting an inevitable kick.
“This is from the officer who upset you in Blackhaven yesterday.”
“I didn’t know he was still here…”
“Since he is, we could just let Lord Torridon kill him. He will probably get off, since he’d be tried by his peers and this creature is clearly asking for it.”
Maria hiccoughed out a laugh. “Oh dear, it isn’t funny. There will be a terrible scandal either way. I could not do such a thing to Frances or to Gervaise.”
“Then we must find a way to silence him.”
“I don’t see how, not without paying him. He has clearly grown brave, and sly since Torridon warned him off.”
“Or desperate,” Michael said thoughtfully.
“It seems to be I who am desperate!”
“Why?” he asked bluntly. “What does he have over you?”
She clasped her hands, beginning to grind her nails into her palms. Although she was wearing gloves, he grasped her left hand and drew it away.
“You don’t have to tell me,” he said mildly. “I’ll still help you any way I can.”
“You can’t.” Her fingers clung hard to his. “I almost eloped with him once. Last year. I met him clandestinely several times before that. I even met him secretly at the last spring ball, but he was odiously drunk and let his friends insult me. And they insulted the girls, which was even more unforgivable. Until then, I’d thought I was in love with him and wanted to marry him. I didn’t really after the ball and yet, it seemed to me I owed it to him because I had promised.”
“Did he convince you of that?”
She frowned. “Maybe. I think I just felt it.”
“And, perhaps, that you deserved no better than such a scoundrel?”
She swallowed, dragging her gaze free. “Perhaps. At any rate, I agreed to elope with him, but it did not make me happy. At the last moment, I decided to send him away, and somehow Alan guessed and came with me to add weight to my refusal. He was rather magnificent actually. And he never told anyone but Frances.”
“So, no one can corroborate this creature’s story if he blabs? Only you and Lord and Lady Torridon know about it?”
“And Bernard Muir, because he borrowed Bernard’s curricle, and even Bernard came to talk me out of it. But he would not tell.”
“Then he has no proof and is not worth another thought, let alone a penny.”
“He might still have my letters,” she said hoarsely.
“Ah.” He scratched his cheek. “And it’s those you think he might show to…the gentlemen indicated in his message.”
“Braithwaite and Underwood,” she said openly.
“Your brother would hardly throw to you the wolves. He is more likely to join Lord Torridon in murder.”
“I can’t allow that, either, can I? Besides, Gideon may send them to Lord Underwood who would tell Gervaise, and his sister, and possibly lots of other people, and then I really will be ruined.”
Michael stood and dragged a chair closer to hers, aware he was giving himself time. He knew Lord Underwood was the man her family wished her to marry. But she had also told him she no longer wished to marry anyone. Over the port last night, he had observed Underwood—charming, intelligent, and not quite as indolent as he pretended. He would, probably, make Maria a good husband in the end. If she loved him.
His stomach twisted. He didn’t like to think of her being married to a man she didn’t love.
“It’s a threat,” he said as he sat down. “Which he is unlikely to carry through because that would involve throwing away his means of extortion for no reward. And if you don’t want to marry Underwood…”
He left it hanging, but she finished the question for him, “If I don’t want to marry him or anyone else, why should I care about my reputation? Because it is not simply about me. It would reflect ill on Gervaise and Mama, on Eleanor and my sisters. Especially on the younger ones who are not married and who may yet wish to be. A lady’s reputation is ridiculously fragile, and her ruin affects her whole family. While Gideon…” She waved her hand in weary frustration.
“The world is not fair,” he agreed. He did not mention, because she had probably realized for herself, that if her letters to this Gideon came out, then people might give credence, too, to Mrs. Davenly’s account of her midnight tryst with Beauchamp. Her reputation teetered on a knife’s edge. “What do you want to do?”
She blinked, bringing her desperate, distracted eyes back into focus on him. “Aren’t you going to persuade me to go to my mother or Gervaise, or even Eleanor, and tell them the whole story?”
“Not if you don’t want to. I don’t know what influence your brother has over this Gideon’s regiment—”
“None,” Maria said.
“Except that he knows the colonel, of course. And the other senior officers.”
“Tell me about Gideon. What is he like? Who is his family? Is he a veteran of the Peninsula?”
“Oh, no, he has never been in battle. He was recruited into the battalion that stayed here while the others were on the Peninsula. His father is a minor country gentleman in Derbyshire, and Gideon—Lieutenant Gideon Heath—is the fourth or fifth son, I believe. They are not wealthy or particularly influential.”
“Well, I think by his actions, he has just lost his right to any sympathy you might feel on that score. Use your own family’s influence with brutality if you have to.”
“I would,” she said candidly. “I just can’t see how. And he’s demanding the money–or at least a reply—by tonight.”
“Is he coming to the ball?”
“The officers of the 44th are always asked.”
“Will he have the nerve to speak to you?”
Her lip curled. “Not under Lord Torridon’s eye.”
“Hmm. Let me find out what I can. I just wish he wasn’t in such a dashed hurry.”
“The regiment’s being sent to join Wellington in Brussels.”
“Ah, well, that could explain his desperation. He wants to wear the smart red coat and swagger around town in his officer’s braid, but he doesn’t want to fight.”
“Counter-extortion?” she said admiringly. Then her face fell again. “But we can’t prove such a thing, not in time.”
“We might have to give him something just to get a breathing space.”
“If I do that, I’ll never be free of him,” she objected.
“Yes, you will,” he said grimly. Although as yet, he wasn’t quite sure how.
As she stood up to go, he said, “Don’t speak to him yourself. Give him nothing. I’ll meet him on your behalf—if you’ll allow it.”
She paused and glanced back at him. “I don’t believe I will allow it. You shouldn’t be involved.” A smile flickered in her eyes and vanished. “Except in an advisory capacity.”
“You’d be playing into his hands if you allowed yourself to be alone with him,” Michael said urgently.
She bit her lip, considering. While she did, voices drifted from the gallery and then two men strolled into the library. Lord Underwood and Edward Gayle.
Immediately, Maria resorted to her social smile, greeting them with cheerful civility. The letter from Gideon Heath lay on the floor where it had fallen, the writing facing upward.
“What an unexpected blue stocking,” Lord Underwood teased. “But it seems we have discovered your secret.”
“I’m not sure one can be counted a blue-stocking if one only reads novels,” she said lightly.
Unobtrusively, Michael bent and picked up the letter and stuffed it into his pocket.
“You mean no one will be impressed that I read Waverley from cover to cover?” Underwood complained.
“I will be,” Maria assured him. “I rather liked Waverley. There it is on the shelf beside Mr. Gayle.”
“Perhaps I shall read it,” Gayle said, scanning the shelves. “Do you recommend it, Hanson?”
Michael shrugged. “I liked it.”
“Quite an impressive looking library,” Underwood remarked, gazing about him. “Have you catalogued it all, Mr. Hanson?”
“None of it,” Michael said calmly. “But I’ve discovered many treasures on the shelves already.”
“You have not been his lordship’s assistant for long?” Underwood inquired.
“A few months, spent largely in London. I assist mostly with his parliamentary duties.”
“Of course you do.” Gayle grinned. “Still hoping to get there yourself one day?”
“To the House of Commons, certainly,” Michael replied.
“Perhaps Braithwaite could help you,” Gayle suggested.
“I don’t believe Mr. Hanson needs your advice on that score, Edward,” Underwood chided gently. “Do you know, it makes my eyes sore just seeing so many books? I believe I shall totter outside for a morning constitutional. Do you care to accompany me, Lady Maria? Since I see you are dressed to go out.”
“Oh, I have just come back and got distracted in here! Another time, my lord. I have a hundred and one things to do before the ball. Excuse me, gentlemen.”
They all bowed as she swept out of the room. Michael thought Underwood was not best pleased, though he made no remark.
“Excuse me,” Michael said and went to what had become his table, to see if there were any notes of instruction from the earl. Underwood and Gayle wandered around the shelves.
Finding no instructions, Michael merely returned the book lying there to its proper place.
“Michael!” He turned quickly to find the earl’s youngest sister hurrying toward him with a painting in both hands. “Was this the one?”
“In my opinion, that’s your best work,” he returned.
She gave him a dazzling smile and rushed off again without even seeing the others. “Thank you!”
Both Gayle and Lord Underwood were gazing at him.
“Lady Helen,” he said mildly. “The earl’s youngest sister.”
Underwood smiled. “You are an interesting man, Mr. Hanson.”
Michael blinked. “Thank you. I think.”
“Come, Gayle,” Underwood drawled. “Let us take our constitutional, even though we shall have to make do with each other’s company. Goodbye, Mr. Hanson,”
“Sir.” Michael inclined his head and watched them go. Then he fetched his hat and walked down to Blackhaven to see what he could learn about Lieutenant Gideon Heath and the movements of the 44th.
*
In the afternoon, more guests began to arrive, and Maria, fortunately, was kept busy with social duties and generally helping Eleanor look after her guests. Curiously, even when Gideon’s odious note popped into her mind, she felt more anger than fear now, perhaps because Michael Hanson knew the whole story and still insisted on helping her.
Of course, trusting people too quickly, only seeing the best in them, was how she had got herself into this difficulty in the first place. But Michael was different. He wanted nothing from her. Gervaise and Eleanor trusted him, and she had become a better judge of character. He truly was a friend, and judging from the story of Cousin Eve’s recent visit and discovering her treasure, he was useful in all sorts of situations. In fact, she felt almost… protected.
When she had first seen Gideon’s letter, she could never have imagined that she would be dressing for the ball with such a light heart. Of course, dinner had helped. All the guests staying at the castle had been present, along with particular friends from Blackhaven, including the Wickendens, the Benedicts, the Grants, and the Lamptons—Dr. Lampton having been promoted to such heights of acceptance, even with her mother, by his recent marriage to a German princess.
It struck Maria that Blackhaven seemed to promote such unequal marriages as the doctor’s. Gillie Muir, the army captain’s daughter, and Lord Wickenden; the curate—now the vicar—and Lady Crowmore; even Lord and Lady Daxton, Miss Grey and Colonel Benedict, Gervaise and Eleanor. Maria rather liked the idea of defying convention for love. Perhaps that had been a large part of her attraction to Gideon.
At any rate, being surrounded by old friends had certainly lifted her spirits, and she was greatly encouraged by the amiable but very proper greeting of Mr. Beauchamp, who was indeed present and staying at the castle. She was sure every pair of eyes watched her as she gave him her hand, spoke a few words, and let him pass on so that she could greet other people. Her well-wishers would have nodded with satisfaction, the gossips pursed their lips with disappointment.
Of course, that was the easy part of the evening.
Alice and Helen sat on the bed, watching critically as her maid helped her dress for the ball. Her smooth, dark chestnut hair shone, dressed simply with a pearl comb and a white rose. Her gown of white muslin, as suited a debutante, was trimmed with rather lovely lace of pal
est lilac. A single strand of pearls was clasped around her throat.
“Beautiful,” Helen pronounced with gratifying awe.
“You look grown-up,” Alice said, frowning.
Maria laughed. “Well, I am!”
“Does that mean you’re going to forbid us to watch the ball?” Alice asked.
“That would be rather hypocritical of me, would it not? But only from the gallery as we agreed before.” As the maid, satisfied with her work, fled to her next duty, Maria turned thoughtfully from her reflection to face her sisters. “Actually, you could help me. I suspect Lieutenant Heath will be at the ball, and I would like to know where he is and who he talks to.”
“Maria, no!” Alice exclaimed.
Maria laughed. “No, no, don’t look at me like that! It’s so I can avoid him. Also, I think he is up to something. Mr. Hanson is going to help me find out what. You will have an excellent view from the gallery, only don’t follow him outside, or even into other rooms.”
Alice and Helen exchanged glances, then nodded. “We’ll watch him for you,” Alice agreed.
“Can we pour lemonade on his head?” Helen asked.
“By all means,” Maria agreed cordially, “but not when it might splash on anyone else!”
Restored to good humor by this permission and their task for the evening, the girls went happily off to view Frances and Serena.
No sooner had they gone than her mother sailed in to look her over.
“Charming,” she pronounced, having walked around her twice. “I need not tell you, I suppose, how important it is that you say and do just as you ought this evening? Do not dance with Beauchamp more than once, should he have the nerve to ask you. Be cordial as you would to an old acquaintance, but not familiar. In fact, you must give no hint of familiarity with any gentlemen.”
“I won’t, Mama,” she agreed.
“Except Lord Underwood,” Mama pronounced. “But even there, a mere hint of partiality. You may dance with him twice, but don’t let your tongue run away with you. I believe he is very taken with you.”
Maria drew in her breath. “You want me to marry him, don’t you?”
“It would be an excellent match. I believe he would suit you very well.”
The Wicked Sister Page 6
