“Do you want me to leave this house?” she asked, her voice trembling again.
“No. I told you that I would give it to you. I will not go back on my word. But I should be grateful, Cassie, if you would in future refrain from interfering in my affairs, would desist from following either me or Miss Holmdale and would make quite certain that none of your shady underworld employees are under the impression that you seek either her or my death. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes. Oh, Robert, I am so sorry! I have behaved abominably but I love you so much!” She burst into tears again, stumbled to her feet and ran to him, falling on her knees before him and once again clutching at his legs.
“That is a lie!” he said coldly. “If you truly loved me, you would want me to be happy.”
“Do you want her to be happy even if her idea of happiness is to marry someone else?” she countered.
She saw him freeze, saw his arrested expression and knew that that particular arrow had found its mark.
He bent and once more unlocked her arms but this time, when he raised her to her feet, his expression was gentle. “I am sorry, Cassie. It is time we parted. Neither of us loves the other but we must find it in our hearts to forgive each other.”
Chapter 32
Sylvia did not see the Duke again for several days. She did not see Lord Marklye either and, since Lady Wey had so emphatically forbidden her either to write to him or call upon him, she had little idea how well he had recovered from either his gunshot wound or the injury to his amour propre, which she feared he must have suffered as a result of the diamond débacle.
When the Duke did eventually call upon his sister he was invited to dine but declined, saying that he had an engagement elsewhere. Sylvia suspected this to be untrue; she was convinced that he wished to avoid spending time in her company.
His manner was distant but polite and the Countess, after exchanging a few pleasantries with him, remembered something she must at once say to her husband and left the room.
“Wey is not in the house,” the Duke observed. “I saw him a few minutes ago at Tattersalls. I suppose she was looking for an excuse to leave us alone. In any event, I am glad of it as I have some news concerning the diamonds.”
“Have you found them?”
“Yes – and I have returned them to Marklye. I was in a slight quandary as to whether they should more properly be returned to you or to him but, since my last instructions were to give them to him, that was what I did. I hope my action meets with your approval.”
Sylvia wondered why he spoke as though he were the butler. Was this a new way to insult her – to act and speak as though he were her servant?
“Thank you,” she said in a constricted voice. “I am very grateful.”
“You need not be. I felt it to be my duty to sort out the muddle which seemed to be, although not precisely my fault, not unconnected with me. This time you may rest assured that, since Marklye was already aware of my involvement, I decided to put them into his hand myself. They were not, of course, in their original box but he confirmed that they were indeed the same jewels.”
She said nothing, embarrassed that he should have been a party to a matter which not only should have concerned her and Marklye alone, but which was also clearly a matter of a man trying to fix his interest with her. Whatever she had originally believed – and told the Duke – she knew now that his lordship’s motives were not born of indifference.
The Duke continued in a colourless tone, “He chose well; such valuable but unpretentious gems would become you.”
“Thank you,” she said again, blushing. “In point of fact he saw me admiring them and bought them for me afterwards. I would never have allowed him to do so if I could have prevented him.”
“No,” he agreed. “I am aware of that. You seem to have a particular talent for brushing off admiration and rejecting tokens of love.”
“How and where did you find them?” she asked abruptly.
“They were in a pawnshop, as I expected. Having found them, I approached the person who hocked them and demanded the ticket. With that in my possession, I was able to redeem them.”
“Were you obliged to do so at your own expense?”
“Yes, but pray do not trouble your head about that. It was a temporary measure only.”
“Did Lord Marklye reimburse you?” she asked, her cheeks now flaming.
“No, I did not allow him to do so. I told him that I had prevailed upon the thief to give them to me. It seemed to me that Marklye had already expended more than enough in the first place and could not reasonably be expected to buy them twice over.”
She stared at him, horrified. “No, I should rather think not! But, since I declined to accept them, what will he do with them? Can he still return them to the shop?”
“I do not see why not.”
“But you? How will you recoup your expense? I would give it to you at once if I had sufficient funds, but I do not; at least not at present. I am afraid it may take a lifetime for me to repay you.”
He laughed. “If your sole source of income is a governess’s wages, I do not think it likely you will ever be able to do so. In any event, it is not your responsibility; the thief has pocketed the sum for which they were pawned and must disburse it again as soon as possible. The main thing is that you are exonerated and Lord Marklye has the diamonds.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated. She was unnerved by his agreeable manner. “Do I gather that you no longer think I played a shabby trick upon him?”
“I am convinced of it; the person who took them needed the money. I think they put in the substitutes so that you would not know that the box was empty. I misjudged you and apologise unreservedly. I am almost as guilty as the thief because I wished to find proof of your wrongdoing and jumped to a hasty and ill-conceived judgment of you.”
“I did the same,” she admitted. “I thought at first that you had deliberately not returned the parcel to him in order that he should think I had accepted his gift - and draw his own conclusions as to the reason.”
“You did misjudge me there,” he agreed, “because I hope that I would not be guilty of such passive vindictiveness towards you. I wished to punish you for your past treatment of me but my method was more active. I could not, in any event, have substituted your childish treasures since I neither knew of their existence nor had access to them.”
“No. It was at the Barnaby ball that I thought you had not returned them to Lord Marklye – when he expressed disappointment that I was not wearing them. I did not then know about the substitution.”
“So we both thought the worst of each other without at the time knowing the worst of the actual thief. I have dealt with this; the diamonds were taken for their monetary value, not to damage you or your reputation, although I don’t doubt the thief dislikes you intensely. Unfortunately, my intervention has no doubt hardened the perpetrator’s vindictiveness towards you. I feel I should warn you that you have at least one implacable enemy. I can only reiterate: pray take care.”
“I shall not accept a parcel from any source,” she confirmed. “If anything is delivered to this house, I shall send it back whence it came immediately.”
“Shall you? Parcels containing a king’s ransom in diamonds, yes, but what about bunches of flowers? Looking round this room – as well as the hall – I conjecture you have acquired dozens of admirers. Will you send the flowers back too?”
“Oh, there is nothing dangerous about flowers, surely?”
“I suppose Snow White thought there was nothing dangerous about an apple,” he observed thoughtfully.
“I will be sure to send back any offerings of comestibles,” she promised.
“I hope you will. Chocolates, you know, are alarmingly easy to fill with poison. Pray be careful!”
Sylvia’s face paled. “Do you truly think someone wishes to harm me? For whom, in your opinion, was the shot meant?”
He did not answer directly but asked, “Do you
know who Marklye’s heir is?”
“No, I have no notion. It would look very odd if I were to ask him that. Did you ask him?”
“No, but I think I might do so. Clearly there were two possible targets that night: you and Marklye. He recently inherited a nabob’s fortune, which might have put somebody’s nose out of joint. Of course, it is possible that one of your desperate suitors might have wished to remove him; he seemed to think that I might have done so. I did not. The other possibility is that someone who is eager to inherit my fortune – and my title – or acquire them via marriage – wishes to remove you.”
“That would be a rather far-fetched motive,” she said tartly.
“Indeed! But the person might have jumped to an erroneous conclusion as a result of my kissing you in the street. I did my best to stop Lady Sullington talking about it but have not, I own, been entirely successful. Your reputation is shaky, my dear, and was not improved by your retiring to the terrace with Marklye almost immediately upon arriving at the Barnabys’.”
“How horrid it is!” she exclaimed with an expression of distaste. “I suppose I have been unwise.”
“Yes, in going on to the terrace at the ball, but as far as my kissing you goes, I forced myself upon you. It would be wholly unjust for you to be castigated for that.”
“I thought that was what you wanted.”
“Yes, shamefully, it was. I must go but I hope to see you at the Hardys’ masked ball. I shall endeavour to keep an eye on you.”
“How will you do so since we are all supposed to be incognito?”
“I should recognise you anywhere, however you are dressed, but I shall no doubt be aided by the identity of the people who will no doubt surround you.”
“They will be incognito too. Perhaps I should stay at home; you have worried me with your warnings.”
“Good. I meant to do so because you must be on your guard. You are entangled, whether you like it or not, with two of the most eligible men in London.”
“Is my adversary – I suppose you could call this person that – then a woman to your mind?”
“Not necessarily. If you marry Marklye you will put a good many noses out of joint, including his present heir. It is the same so far as I am concerned: you may be set against marrying me but the rest of the world does not know that for certain.”
“I suppose, in that case, I should think myself fortunate that Lady Sullington is convinced that I am a lightskirt for everyone knows you are unlikely to marry one of those.”
She saw his face cloud as she spoke and regretted the bitterness of her remark. They had been able to spend some time exchanging pleasantries without jumping down each other’s throats.
“’Everyone’ seems to ‘know’ a good deal about me and my intentions in the matrimony department. I shall marry whom I please and whether she is a lightskirt or not is neither any of their business nor germane to whom I shall choose.”
“Perhaps not but you speak as though you may marry anyone; even you cannot marry a person who does not wish to marry you.”
“No, it seems to be harder than most people suppose, does it not? The first woman I hoped to marry threw me over; the second – Miss Sullington – has taken me in strong dislike. I suppose a day will come when I shall find someone prepared to take me on. It is enough to throw one into despair.”
He rose and took her hand. “Good-bye, Cousin. I shall hope to see you at the Hardys’.”
“Good-bye and thank you for dealing with the diamonds. I do not know what I should have done by myself.”
“Run home to Cornwall, I expect. Be careful what you wish for; there is a usually a price, although it is often not immediately apparent.”
“I wished for those diamonds.”
“Is that all you have ever wished for?”
“I wished for a lavender silk bonnet – and I got that too, but it came with so many insults that I tried to throw it into the road.”
“Have you never wished for a lover?” he asked almost wistfully.
“Oh, yes, desperately.” Her eyes filled with tears. “He had hair as yellow as butter and eyes as blue as speedwells; at least that is what I used to liken them to; now I think the colour more nearly resembles bluebells for there is a violet tinge to them which I did not perceive before.”
“It has probably developed with age and disillusion. It is a bruise which hints at the pain he suffered when his love was rejected. Good-bye, my dear lost love.” He raised her fingers to his lips but did not again meet her eyes.
The following evening Sylvia dressed once more in a ballgown, this time fashioned from rose silk, trimmed with lace. However, for the first part of the evening – until the unmasking at midnight – the dress would be entirely hidden by a black silk domino, trimmed with rose-coloured braid; it had a high, stiff collar up to the chin and a hood which, when raised, covered most of her hair.
As she descended the stairs, her mask in her hand, she saw that the Duke was standing there, also swathed in black silk. He walked to the foot of the staircase and held out his hand. “I have decided to accompany my sister’s party so that I know what you are wearing and will be able to recognise you.”
“Do you not think anyone else will have the same coloured trimmings?”
“I should not expect so. Your mask is also pink-trimmed, I see. I shall certainly know you again and will keep my eye on you. For God’s sake, have a care. Danger lurks easily at masked balls and may come from an unexpected source.”
“I wish you will tell me what you fear. How can I look out for it if I have no notion what form it will take? Do you expect someone to try to shoot me again?”
“It is possible. I can only advise you not to step outside with any of your admirers. Whoever wishes you ill will be waiting for his – or her - opportunity.”
“I would infinitely prefer to stay at home.”
“That would be poor-spirited. The person who stole the diamonds has been warned that any further threat to you will result in public exposure and the weight of the law being invoked. However, it would be unwise, in my opinion, for us to assume that you have only one enemy and that is why I urge caution. I do not know whether Marklye will be there but, if he is, I have no doubt that he also will be vigilant.”
“Was it the person who stole the diamonds who fired the shots in the Barnabys’ garden?”
“I do not know, which is why I beg you to be careful.”
He took her mask and fixed it over her eyes, tying the ribbons behind her head. Drawing the hood up over her hair, he surveyed her with his head on one side. “No, you are not easy to identify. What a mask does not hide it renders unrecognisable because the context is so changed. Only your mouth is unaffected but, without the other distinguishing characteristics to complete the picture, even that would look unfamiliar to most people. Not to me though; I would know those lips anywhere.”
Chapter 33
Cassie had been invited to the masked ball by Lord Furzeby. He told her that he had been intending to escort Mrs Harbury, his sister-in-law, but that she had cried off at the last minute on account of having contracted a heavy cold; she did not, apparently, consider it wise to leave the warmth and comfort of her own home.
“You cannot take me to a Society ball!” Cassie exclaimed when his lordship suggested she take the ailing woman’s place.
“Why not? No one will recognise you and, if you wish, we can leave before the unmasking.”
“Is your nephew to be there?”
“Indeed he is – and is vastly looking forward to it, no doubt hoping there will be an opportunity to speak to Miss Sullington without her parent being any the wiser – at least for some appreciable time. I shall tell him to hang upon you affectionately as though you were his mama. He will be nothing loath, I am persuaded, particularly if you offer, in exchange, to speak warmly to his beloved.”
“To Miss Sullington? I should not dare. If I were to be unmasked, Lady Sullington would not scruple to tear me to sh
reds.”
“I am persuaded she will not actually tear you to shreds and, as you have no reputation to speak of anyway, I cannot see that she can do you much damage. In any event, if you cling to me – or James – throughout the evening, she will be most unlikely to suspect you are not who you – and I – say you are. But we need to be very sure that your disguise is impenetrable: you must cover your hair for it is such a very distinctive shade.”
“Perhaps I should wear a turban,” she said, laughing and beginning to enter into the spirit of what Lord Furzeby seemed to consider a harmless prank. She had been unaware until this moment that he ever stepped outside the line of propriety; his suggestion that she accompany him was odd enough but that she should masquerade as his brother’s widow struck her as positively extraordinary.
“It would not be such a bad idea,” he agreed perfectly seriously. “A hood is all very well but it is only too easy for it to be knocked askew and then all that gold will dazzle anyone who sees it.”
“I do not possess a turban.”
“Then may I suggest that you purchase one? I should like you to come with me and I believe you would enjoy it. I cannot see that there is any need to be afraid of Lady Sullington; she is a disagreeable woman but she is not the queen: she cannot order you to the Tower.”
“But what if Rother should be there?”
“I daresay he will be but you cannot avoid him for ever and, since you will both be masked, you can perfectly well pretend that you have not recognised each other. It would give me great pleasure if you would accompany me.”
Seeing from his smile and a certain challenging sparkle in his eyes that he spoke the truth and, surprised and warmed by his approval, she had agreed, although she afterwards regretted her acquiescence, mortally afraid not only of offending Lady Sullington, if that lady were to notice her, but even more of annoying the Duke.
Sylvia Or The Moral High Ground Page 28
