Cousins of a Kind

by Sheila Walsh

  But the Duchess only said with a twinkle, ‘Yes, he is a trifle eager, my love ‒ but so very eligible, and not an ounce of vice in him! My Henry was just such a one in his youth ‒ and I can swear to it, they make most excellent uncomplaining husbands in the fullness of time!’

  Theo murmured something unintelligible which appeared to satisfy her grace, but this passing reference to the Duke brought into Theo’s mind a vivid mental image of the quietly courteous but almost timid elderly gentleman to whom she had been introduced on one of his rare appearances in Grosvenor Square. Until that moment she had supposed her hostess to be a lively widow, but the Duchess had declared playfully that Henry was of a very ‘bookish’ disposition, and spent most of his time at his club or in the country. And even as she accepted this explanation, a small voice inside Theo was protesting that the very last quality she would want in a husband would be meekness!

  And later that night after yet another soirée, when she found sleep hard to come by, she finally forsook her bed and padded across to the window, where she threw back the curtains and curled up on the wide ledge to contemplate the way her life was going.

  It would be untrue to say she was not enjoying herself; each day had still a sufficient novelty about it to entrance her. But for how long? How long would it be before the unremitting round of pleasure began to pall ‒ before the thought of exchanging the same meaningless pleasantries with the same empty-headed people became tiresome? Even now she found their conversation for the most part to be tediously concerned with dress, social precedence and scandal ‒ with just occasionally, if one was lucky enough to meet a fellow spirit, the chance to discuss something a little deeper.

  Perhaps the fault lies in me, she thought with a sudden quirk of humour. What overweening conceit, after all, gives me the right to think myself better than others? No, not better, she amended stubbornly, but different.

  Theo looked out upon the tall regimented ranks of chimney-pots outlined against the starry sky, thought of Shallowford, and sighed. Perhaps if she threw herself into the social round with renewed enthusiasm, the time would pass the sooner and then she could go home. It was strange how, without consciously willing it, Shallowford had replaced Philadelphia in her mind as home.

  As she was about to close the curtains, she became aware of a light moving intermittently in the house opposite ‒ Radlett House. But there wasn’t anyone there at present ‒ at least, so she had been given to understand, although she supposed there must be some sort of caretaker. She stood for a long time watching, unable to bring herself to close the curtain. The light finally moved from the downstairs room, and she was just berating herself for allowing her imagination to run riot when it appeared in the room above. A vague uncomfortable prickling stirred at the back of her neck. What kind of caretaker wandered the house in the early hours of the morning? Draw the curtain, she admonished herself sternly, and stop leaping to conclusions!

  ‘Do you happen to know, ma’am,’ she asked the Duchess on the following day, ‘if Radlett House has any servants in residence?’

  The Duchess looked up from the list she was compiling for the ball she intended to give shortly in Theo’s honour. Her manner, as ever when not concerned with essentials, was vague.

  ‘I believe there to be an elderly couple on the premises, my love. Why? Did you wish to see over it? I’m sure something could be arranged. Your cousin Benedict would take you … or Beau. No, perhaps not. One ought to like him, of course … but …’ She shuddered delicately. ‘But, now I think of it … I have seen Beau leaving the house quite recently … when was it? Still, that is neither here nor there … He can’t be living there, for one would know, and besides, Edmund would never countenance it!’ Her voice sank dramatically. ‘He can’t abide Beau, you know, which, one must own, is not to be wondered at … such a cold posturing man! But I suppose he must be invited to the ball. Now, where does he have his rooms …?’

  Theo, only half listening, looked out across the square at the empty house, her thoughts running riot. First the break-in at Shallowford, and now lights at night where there should be no lights. Was it being fanciful to imagine a connection? Somebody searching for something … the Diamond Waterfall? Oh, no, she was making a melodrama out of nothing! Who knew about it, after all?

  ‘Theo, my love?’ The Duchess’s tone was gently reproachful.

  She pulled herself together and walked quickly across the room to stand dutifully at her grace’s side.

  ‘I thought that we might go through the arrangements one more time … to see if there is anything I have forgotten. We must remember to notify the officers of the watch and the link-boys, to ensure that the road is kept clear. Mellicent Graham’s rout last week was such a sad scramble … carriages blocking the way for hours! Now, about your Aunt Selina? She is all but out of black gloves, is she not? I know she goes into company … more perhaps than one might consider quite … but then, it is not for me to be judging others, and one would not wish to be thought inhospitable! And there is that very charming French Comte …’

  Selina could have learned of the necklace from him, Theo mused, her thoughts drawn irresistibly back. And he had almost certainly approached Beau. And Benedict. All of whom, with the exception of the Comte, had a perfect right to enter either house without resorting to subterfuge. Unless they did not wish to be seen to be there ‒ or had employed someone else to search for them.

  ‘My love … are you quite well?’

  Oh heavens! This will not do! Theo met the concerned eyes of her hostess and murmured something about having slept badly. The Duchess was all concern, and very conscious of feeling a fraud, Theo made a determined effort to put the whole affair out of her mind before it became an obsession.

  Chapter Ten

  Theo had hoped that Benedict was exaggerating when he spoke of Aubrey’s involvement with the wrong kind of companions, but she was to see for herself on her next visit to the theatre.

  This was one pleasure of which she would never tire. From the moment of entering the carriage that was to take them there, she loved the clamour of the traffic when each vehicle seemed intent upon self destruction ‒ lamps stabbing the darkness, wheels shuddering over the cobbles, and the coachmen shouting at one another, each jostling for the best position. The closer one came to the theatre, the more did their exploits resemble some great gladiatorial spectacle worthy of a Roman amphitheatre.

  And in the auditorium itself, there was a magic that encompassed her long before the play began, a shimmering, ever-moving pageant of bejewelled ladies in exquisite gowns. It mattered not one whit that her own attire, by comparison, paled utterly into insignificance, because she always had the feeling that she was an invisible onlooker, privileged to enjoy the spectacle without ever being part of it.

  Lord Alverton, whose party this was, would have refuted the poor view she took of herself, had he but guessed it. As it was, he took his duties as host very seriously, ushering everyone into his mama’s box while carefully reserving the prime position for Theo. And as he relieved her of her wrap and settled her comfortably in her chair, he contrived to let her know how perfectly delightful she looked.

  Theo received the eager compliment with gratitude, knowing it to be partial, yet pleased none the less. She was quite unaware that more than one over-decked lady turned to look after her with something very like envy in their breasts. It was not merely the charming simplicity of her apricot silk dress with its ribbons caught high under the brief bodice by a knot of fresh flowers, matching the ones that nestled in her hair. It was the look of rapt enjoyment shining out of her eyes that really set her apart from the rest.

  She became so immersed in the play that she was all the more annoyed by the increasing amount of noise that issued from the pit where all the young bucks and dandies made sport of the actors and each other. During the interval she stared down at them as though she might make them aware of her disapproval ‒ and found herself looking into Aubrey’s eyes.


  Just for an instant they registered pleasure at seeing her, and then one of his companions, a bored-looking young man with extravagantly high collar points, a spotted cravat and a green coat, followed the direction of his glance and leaned forward to make some comment, obviously about her. Aubrey looked uncomfortable, but he laughed and turned away.

  For Theo a little of the pleasure went out of the evening. She had not expected to see Aubrey again, but later as she was waiting with the rest of the party for their carriage, a small group of young bloods came swaggering past, their progress noisy and none too steady, and one slightly behind the rest.

  ‘Hello, Aubrey,’ she said quietly.

  He stood, peering at her. The light was not good, but she thought he was flushed, his eyes red-rimmed.

  ‘Cousin Theo.’ It was the half-sulky voice she knew so well, but thicker ‒ the words slurring a little.

  ‘I’m sorry you didn’t enjoy the play,’ she said.

  A youthful world-weary voice ahead drawled, ‘Do come along, Radlett, dear boy ‒ if you are with us. Unless, that is, you prefer your cousin’s company to the charms of pretty Nell Beckett!’

  There was a look of confusion in his young face, and she said with swift pleading, ‘Don’t go with them, Aubrey!’

  His mouth grew stubborn. ‘Course I’m going. They like me, y’see. And you’re wrong about the play.’ He giggled foolishly. ‘We enjoyed ourselves no end!’

  The encounter left Theo deeply troubled, and on the following afternoon when the Duchess had gone out to visit an elderly relation, she took a hack and directed the driver to Upper Wimpole Street.

  A handsome young footman in livery ‒ one of a pair ‒ opened the door to her. (How like Selina, she thought drily, to surround herself with such personable servants!) She was shown first into a side parlour, and then the second footman came to take her up to a sunny withdrawing room.

  It was immediately evident that she had chosen an inconvenient moment, for Selina was not alone. The Comte de Varron turned from the mirrored embrasure near the window as she entered, his fingers unhurriedly putting the finishing touches to his cravat, and plainly amused by her embarrassment as he made her his bow.

  And Selina? Theo had seldom seen such a change in anyone. She wore a floating peignoir in palest blue silk which mirrored her eyes, and her golden curls tumbled over her shoulders, making her look, at first glance, like a girl. No, not quite a girl ‒ there was something altogether too … ripe was the word which sprang unbidden to Theo’s mind, and she blushed for its implications. She had seen already how Selina could blossom in company, but had never quite thought of her as this ravishing, desirable creature until now; and to see her mouth prettily pouting, one who was none too pleased at having her tête-à-tête curtailed.

  The Comte, however, was more than equal to the situation as he raised Theo’s hand to his lips and murmured compliments which, whether she believed them or not, were balm to her agitated spirits.

  ‘But I am a most fortunate man,’ he insisted, handing her to a chair. ‘To find myself suddenly in the company of not one, but two, beautiful young ladies!’

  Theo found it difficult in his company to broach the subject of Aubrey as she had wished, and tided over the awkwardness of explaining the reason for her visit by mentioning the Duchess’s ball and hoping that they would be able to attend. Mollified somewhat by the prospect of mingling with the cream of society, Selina became more affable, and presently when the Comte showed no sign of leaving, Theo rose, saying casually that she had hoped to see Aubrey.

  ‘One would have thought,’ Selina said archly, ‘that you would have little time for a mere boy like Aubrey with suitors like Lord Alverton clamouring for your company!’

  It crossed Theo’s mind that Aubrey would be something of an embarrassment to Selina … too much a reminder of her years. It was a disturbing thought, and it made her persist, until, grudgingly, one of the footmen was summoned and offered the information that Mr Fane had gone out some hour or more since.

  Theo pulled on her gloves. ‘Then perhaps you would ask him when you next see him,’ she said casually, ‘whether he would care to take a ride with me one morning.’

  Selina shrugged agreement, but could not guarantee anything. ‘He is always out, these days,’ she said vaguely.

  ‘Do you have a carriage waiting, Miss Radlett?’ the Comte inquired politely, and when she was obliged to admit not, he insisted that he must be allowed the privilege of driving her home.

  ‘There is no need,’ she said quickly, seeing Selina’s tightening mouth. ‘I am sure I can procure a cab.’

  But he was adamant, and she found herself presently being handed into a smart tilbury with a very handsome blood mare between the shafts. Quite a turnout, she thought, for a gentleman who was reduced to self-confessed penury.

  As if interpreting her thoughts, he said drolly, ‘I lodge with a most accommodating acquaintance who permits me the use of his equipage.’

  ‘You are fortunate in your friends, monsieur,’ she returned politely. And then, because his easy acceptance of what amounted to charity seemed so inexplicably at odds with someone of his supposedly proud aristocratic origins, her doubts rose up once more.

  ‘Do you mean to remain long in England?’ she asked impulsively, and immediately wished she had not, for a note of austerity entered his voice.

  ‘The answer to that lies partly with you, mademoiselle.’

  ‘Oh, come!’ she exclaimed, irritated as much with herself for permitting him the opening as with his intransigence. ‘I thought we had settled all that.’

  ‘How can one consider such things to be settled when no conclusion is yet reached?’ He looked aslant at her. ‘I had hoped you would have given the matter further thought.’

  ‘There is nothing more that I can do, Monsieur le Comte,’ she said flatly. ‘I thought I had made that very plain.’

  ‘Eh bien ‒ that is a pity.’

  That was all he said, but with such a curious inflection in his voice that an involuntary little frisson of unease crawled up Theo’s spine. She tried to dismiss it, but her mouth felt dry and she could think of nothing to say.

  They were moving through the streets at a fairly spanking pace, and as she was still unfamiliar with the layout of London’s thoroughfares, she had no way of knowing where they were.

  ‘Was the Duchess aware that you intended to visit the ravishing Selina?’ he asked presently, breaking the silence.

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say No, but instead some instinct led her to prevaricate. ‘I believe I may have mentioned it.’

  ‘She would not, I think, have countenanced your coming alone.’ He smiled at her, but there was a reckless glitter in his eyes that was deeply disturbing. ‘So ‒ only consider, chère mademoiselle, how simple a matter it would be to arrange that you disappear!’

  Theo drew a breath and strove to remain calm. ‘Kidnap, monsieur?’ she said lightly, as though discussing an interesting hypothesis. ‘How very melodramatic! And so difficult to carry through single-handed, for you may be sure that I would not submit willingly to such Turkish treatment!’

  She thought she saw a momentary glimmer of appreciation, but it was not reflected in his voice.

  ‘Then one would be obliged to render you senseless ‒ it would be but the matter of a moment.’

  ‘How very … unpleasant!’

  ‘Vraiment. It would naturally grieve me greatly to cause you pain, but necessity can occasionally drive one to take disagreeable measures!’

  Theo was by now almost convinced that he meant it; they were in a part of London that she didn’t recognise, the streets had grown progressively seedier, and there would seem little chance of summoning anyone to her aid. Her only hope was that he had evolved the idea on the spur of the moment, for if this were so, she might yet talk him out of it.

  ‘Well,’ she said as humorously as she could manage, ‘I’m sure that your sentiments do you credit, though I fear the
y will do little to console me for my broken head, or whatever other gruesome fate you may have in store for me!’

  It was clear that her attitude puzzled him, but his driving still hadn’t slackened pace, and soon they would be out of town. It took every ounce of will-power she possessed to keep the tell-tale tremor of fear from her voice.

  ‘Am I allowed to know where you would take me, or how you mean to make use of this abduction, kidnapping, call it what you will?’

  She thought at first that he would not answer. Perhaps he hadn’t given the matter that much thought; perhaps, she concluded with a rather disagreeable hollow feeling, it might have been wiser not to prompt him now to do so. She stole a glance at his profile and was not reassured.

  ‘You are pleased to jest, my dear young lady,’ he said with some deliberation. ‘But I can arrange a place quite simply ‒ and then, as I see it, there are at least two options for me.’

  Theo held her breath.

  ‘On the one hand, I think your grandfather might of a sudden become much more … accommodating, were he to learn that your life was in jeopardy. Do you not agree?’

  She let her breath go on a little sigh. ‘He might,’ she agreed gravely. ‘In which case, always supposing that he has your Diamond Waterfall, you could conceivably get it back, though I should warn you he is a man who hates to be bested!’

  ‘He is not alone in that!’ came the swift reply.

  ‘No.’ She frowned. ‘What is much more likely, however, is that the shock will kill him.’

  He was silent for a moment.

  ‘Well, I should be sorry for that,’ he said in a clipped voice. ‘But I can hardly be blamed if he chooses to hold what does not rightfully belong to him. Diable!’

  From nowhere, an urchin dashed out into their path. It seemed that nothing could save him from being mangled, and indeed, as the Comte, hauling back on the reins and pulling frantically to the off, brought them to a plunging halt, one of the hooves struck the child’s body a sickening blow.