by Stella Riley
‘With me,’ said Lord Sarre simply. ‘As to the nature of the wager – that is between Mr Audley, myself and Monsieur Delacroix’s private betting-book.’ Then, to Sebastian, ‘That’s a shame. For a moment there, I thought I’d won.’
* * *
It was at Amberley House that Lady Elinor Caversham finally caught sight of distinctive red hair and immediately pounced on her brother to bludgeon him into presenting Mr Audley to both herself and Mistress Delahaye.
Lord Nicholas made the required introduction and added, ‘Satisfied now, Nell? Not that it matters. I’m for the card room.’
‘This is a ball, Nick,’ remarked Sebastian, amused. ‘It’s usual to dance at least once – if only for the look of the thing.’
‘Not me. And Cassie wouldn’t dance with me if I paid her.’
Cassie, who had been trying not to stare at Mr Audley’s extraordinary hair or notice the elegance and exquisite fit of his gold-laced, black brocade coat, smiled and said, ‘That would depend on how much you paid me. But you really ought to make the attempt, you know. It isn’t that difficult.’
‘Not to you, perhaps – but to me all the dances seem the same.’
He began to move away but paused when Nell said, ‘Wait. Did you know that Rock and Adeline are expected in Town tomorrow?’
‘Yes. Sarre told me.’ He slanted a grin at Sebastian. ‘Do you know my brother?’
‘I was introduced to him once. But it was a long time ago.’
‘Well, nothing escapes him. Ever. You might want to bear that in mind.’
And he wandered off.
His sister eyed Mr Audley speculatively and said, ‘I’m glad to have finally met you, sir, because I’m hoping you’ll tell me about your travels. Somebody said that you’ve been to Russia. Is it true?’
‘Yes. I spent some time there a couple of years ago, mostly in St Petersburg.’
‘And Venice … and Naples … and Vienna?’
‘All of those and a good many others.’
‘I’d like to hear about them. If I arrange a small informal gathering, may I count on you accepting an invitation?’
He bowed. ‘I would be honoured. Thank you.’
‘Good. That’s settled, then. Oh – and Cassie? You haven’t already given the supper-dance away, have you?’
‘No. Why?’
‘Well, I promised to dance it with Harry – but if he leads you out instead, I can trap Lord Sarre and we’ll be able to make up a little party over supper.’
She floated away, leaving Sebastian looking at Cassie – or rather trying not to look at the décolletage of her shot-silk gown which had been trimmed in a way calculated to engage a man’s attention and was, in any case, already just low enough to be interesting. Fixing his gaze resolutely on her face he realised that the eyes he’d expected to be brown were in fact a changeable storm-cloud grey and fringed with thick lashes a few shades darker than those cognac-coloured curls. Quite lovely, he thought. And wondered why he was surprised.
‘Lady Elinor is very … spirited,’ he remarked.
‘Bossy is the word you were looking for. Fortunately, her charm makes up for it.’
There was a tiny, awkward pause. Then very quietly, Sebastian said, ‘I can’t apologise sufficiently for what happened a few days ago. You were put in an intolerable position and it was entirely my fault.’
‘Not entirely, perhaps,’ replied Cassie judiciously. ‘You weren’t to know that Cecily Garfield and her hand-maidens would follow you. Or that … that other lady. And you made it possible for me to escape undetected.’
‘That was the very least I could do.’ He hesitated, wanting to tell her that nothing she’d heard between himself and ‘that other lady’ was as it seemed, but knowing he shouldn’t. He was also thanking God that Miranda didn’t seem to be present this evening – and that he’d seen nothing of her at all since that unpleasant interview in Half Moon Street. Now, since he had been left in the company of Mistress Delahaye and also, as he’d remarked to Nicholas, because this was a ball, he said, ‘Will you dance with me? Not now, if you are already engaged – but later perhaps?’
With some surprise, Cassie detected a faint note of uncertainty and then realised that, after what she’d overheard at Cavendish House, he probably expected her to refuse. For perhaps five seconds, she considered it. There were still three spaces on her card, this being one of them – and she could see Mr Penhaligon heading in her direction, which offered an interesting choice. As yet, she wasn’t sure what she thought of Mr Audley – though having seen his current mistress, it would be stupid to begin admiring anything about him other than his extraordinary looks. However, she wasn’t blind to the cachet of being one of the first ladies with whom he took to the floor. And it was time Mr Penhaligon learned that blowing hot and cold – if that was what he was doing – was not a fool-proof way of holding the attention of quite every lady. Consequently, she inclined her head and said, ‘As it happens, I’m not engaged for this dance. Thank you.’
Sebastian might have been surprised had he not caught the direction of that quick glance and recognised the dark-haired fellow as the man who’d offered him an unsavoury wager.
Ah. Either she doesn’t like him at all or she likes him very much indeed and wants to pique his interest, he thought, smiling and offering his arm. Fortunately, I don’t mind helping out.
It was a minuet and they took their places behind Lady Elinor and Lord March. Sinking into a deep curtsy, Cassie said casually, ‘Did you play chess in Russia?’
It caught him mid-bow. ‘Yes. How did -- ?’
But it was too late. The dance had begun and she was stepping gracefully away in a shifting swirl of lilac and misty green.
Anything resembling proper conversation would now be impossible until the dance was over, so Sebastian confined himself to random observations and occasionally successful attempts to make her laugh. And by the time the music ended, he had already worked out the answer to the question he’d been prevented from asking. So as he led Cassie from the floor, he said, ‘You correspond with Lady Sarre, don’t you? That’s how you know I play chess.’
‘She mentioned it, yes. She says you take it seriously.’
‘Which, considering all the other things people say of me, you find hard to believe?’
‘I find it … unexpected,’ she temporised. ‘Is it true?’
‘Yes. I started playing as a substitute for other amusements and then grew fascinated with the complexities of the game. I’ve pitted my skill against many of the most respected players in Europe … but my eventual aim was always Russia where chess is regarded with almost religious fervour.’ He stopped and smiled ruefully. ‘Forgive me. That was more than you really wanted to know, wasn’t it?’
‘Not at all. Why would you think so?’
‘It’s the usual reaction.’ He paused. ‘Am I right in thinking that Gerald Delahaye is your brother?’
‘Yes.’
‘Is he well?’
‘Perfectly. But he prefers to spend most of his time at Minsterley Vale these days, overseeing the estate. In case you were wondering.’
He hadn’t been … but he knew what she was implying. Fortunately, Cassie removed any need to reply by saying, ‘Did Gerald ever mention that there is a degree of kinship between your family and ours?’
‘No. Is there?’
‘It would seem so – though it’s very remote. But the fact that it exists at all,’ she continued, blithely, ‘allows my younger sister to score points over her school friends by referring to you as her Wicked Cousin Sebastian.’ Mr Audley winced. Cassie smiled and added, ‘Apparently they’ve all been following your exploits for the last two years, which accounts for the … over-enthusiasm … of the younger ladies.’
This time he actually groaned, leaving her unable to suppress a tiny gurgle of laughter and the simultaneous realisation that he was dangerously easy to like.
Surveying her out of slightly narrowed eyes whilst p
reparing to relinquish her hand to the myopic-looking gentleman hovering a few feet away, Sebastian murmured, ‘You are a very alarming young lady, Mistress Delahaye.’
She shook her head decisively but not without a hint of regret.
‘You won’t find anyone to agree with you about that.’
‘No? But then our acquaintance began under rather unusual circumstances, didn’t it?’
‘That is certainly one way of describing it.’ A nasty suspicion occurred to her and she said baldly, ‘Please assure me you haven’t told anyone about that?’
‘Of course not. What do you take me for?’ And when she merely raised her eyebrows, ‘Ah. A question best not answered perhaps?’
‘Definitely not,’ agreed Cassie, demurely. And turning, gave her hand to Lord Pelham.
When, after the dance, his lordship escorted her towards a group of friends which included Lady Elinor, she found Mr Penhaligon lying in wait.
‘Dare I hope,’ he said with his usual charming smile, ‘that you are not going to blight my evening by once more telling me that your card is full?’
‘Far be it from me to blight anyone’s evening,’ replied Cassie, in a tone calculated to tell him she didn’t consider that remark worth taking seriously. ‘But I do have just one dance free. The next one, as it happens.’
‘Then may I claim it?’
‘By all means,’ she began. And then, eyes widening as she looked across the room, ‘Good heavens! Rockliffe’s here.’
‘Is that so surprising?’
‘He wasn’t expected until tomorrow. But of course he’ll have made a special effort for Lord and Lady Amberley.’
They took their places in the set and Cassie realised that it was a gavotte, which meant that conversation would be even more limited than it had been with Mr Audley. This, she decided, was no bad thing if Mr Penhaligon was going to chat about the décor of Lord Amberley’s ballroom.
But it seemed that he wasn’t. During the opening bars of the music, he said, ‘I met the infamous Mr Audley briefly the other evening and got the impression that he’s no longer in the market for unbridled audacity. If so, it will disappoint a good many people.’
‘Only those who enjoy watching someone else hazard his neck,’ returned Cassie prosaically. ‘And such folk will soon find a new source of entertainment.’
‘Ah. Do I gather you find the gentleman amusing?’
Since she knew he must have watched her laughing at some of Mr Audley’s remarks, Cassie considered this question unnecessarily disingenuous. She said lightly, ‘As yet, I scarcely know him … but he seems pleasant and rather more interesting than I’d have expected.’ And suspected, from the tightening of Mr Penhaligon’s expression, that her words had hit a spot she hadn’t intended but which she decided not to correct.
Mr Audley, she noticed with approval, was dancing with Harry Caversham’s cousin, Henrietta – now in her third season and all-too-frequently left languishing amongst the chaperones.
Well done, thought Cassie. That was kind.
Mr Penhaligon complimented her on her gown and asked if he would see her at the Bedford House masquerade. He was handsome and suave; he dressed beautifully and danced gracefully … and his brother was an earl. A week ago she’d wondered if she could fall in love with him. Now, the fact that she suspected him of playing games had told her that she couldn’t. And that was nothing at all to do with a gentleman who teased and laughed at himself and whose smile had an unfortunate tendency to make her nerve-ends tingle.
The next dance was the one before supper. Harry strolled over and said, ‘Presenting myself for duty, ma’am.’
‘But Lord Sarre apparently has not. Luckily, Nell has found a replacement. Look.’
‘Oh God,’ groaned Harry in mock despair. ‘Sebastian Audley. I might have known. And she’s virtually hauling him into the set.’
‘One would hope,’ said a lazily smooth voice from behind them, ‘that the gentleman is wise enough not to put up a fight.’
‘Rock!’ Harry grasped the duke’s hand. ‘Nick said you weren’t arriving until tomorrow.’
‘That was the original plan. But it seemed churlish of Dominic and Rosalind to hold their ball while I was still in the country. I was sufficiently affronted to advance our departure by a day.’ Rockliffe turned to Cassie and bowed over her fingers. ‘That is an extremely fetching gown, Cassandra. I am at a loss to understand why you are not … besieged.’
‘Papa beats them off with a stick, your Grace,’ she laughed. ‘How is the duchess?’
‘The duchess,’ he drawled in a pained tone, ‘is the most maddening female in the entire universe and appears hell-bent on driving me into an early grave. In other words …’ He paused, flicking open the inevitable snuff-box, ‘… she is flourishing.’
‘I am so glad. I know she won’t be appearing in society just now – but may Mama and I call? I should so like to see her.’
‘And she would be delighted to receive you, I am sure.’ Rockliffe glanced at Harry, ‘I suppose Nicholas is in the card-room?’
‘With Sarre and some others. You’ll join our table for supper, of course?’
‘I shall be charmed.’ His Grace bowed to Cassie, humour glinting in his eyes. ‘Meanwhile, I will leave you to join this set while I seek a word with Adrian.’
By the time everyone sat down to supper, Lady Elinor’s ‘little party’ had grown large enough to fill two adjacent tables … and Sebastian unexpectedly found himself part of it. Aside from Nicholas, Adrian, Harry and Lady Elinor, the group also contained Philip Vernon and Jack Ingram with their wives, Cassandra Delahaye and her parents, the Duke of Rockliffe and later, after touring the room on her husband’s arm, the Marchioness of Amberley. Some of these people, Sebastian began to realise, were related to each other. But it wasn’t kinship that created the feeling of family. It was the fact that all of them clearly knew each other well and had an easy rapport that Sebastian couldn’t help but envy.
No one stood on ceremony and there was a great deal of laughter and good-natured raillery. Sebastian even became the focus of some of the latter himself when, the ladies having formed their own little circle, Nicholas described the way half the gentlemen at Sinclair’s had been cudgelling their brains to find a challenge Sebastian hadn’t already accomplished.
Toying absently with his wine-glass, Rockliffe said, ‘I have been remiss, Audley. How is Lord Wingham’s health?’
‘Continuing to improve. All in all, he has made an excellent recovery – and he’ll be pleased to hear that your Grace was kind enough to ask after him.’
‘I’m sure your own recent … restraint … will do him even more good. You will forgive me for asking, I am sure – but may we count on it lasting?’ The Duke smiled and added gently, ‘Don’t misunderstand me. I found your earlier antics as entertaining as anyone else. But to everything there is a season, you know.’
‘Yes, your Grace. I do know. At present, however, my reputation for hell-raising is proving a slight handicap.’
‘You don’t seem to have had much difficulty rejecting all comers, so far,’ remarked Sarre. ‘Rather disappointing, really.’
‘Yes,’ grinned Sebastian. ‘It must be.’
‘Correct me if I’m wrong,’ said Nicholas, his tone unaccustomedly grim, ‘but you’d have refused Poser Penhaligon’s challenge anyway, wouldn’t you – even without this mysterious wager you’ve made with Adrian?’
‘Naturally. What did you call him?’
‘A poser – and he is. Half of what he does is done purely for effect.’
‘Well,’ remarked Rockliffe, ‘we all have our small affectations, you know.’
‘Not all of us. And at least yours are amusing.’
‘Why thank you, Nicholas. You relieve my mind.’ His Grace let the laughter subside and then said, ‘Do I gather you do not care for Mr Penhaligon?’
‘I can’t stand the fellow. And everybody knows he’s waiting for dead men’s shoes.’
‘Those of his thirteen-year-old nephew … only child of his elder brother, the Earl of Keswick,’ replied Rockliffe. ‘Complications at the boy’s birth had two unfortunate consequences. Lady Keswick is unable to have more children and the boy himself was damaged in a way which means he is unlikely to reach adulthood.’
‘So if the lad dies,’ continued Nicholas, ‘Penhaligon becomes Keswick’s heir – and it’s my impression that he’s counting the days.’
‘Unlike yourself, of course.’
‘Me? God, no! I’m depending on you and Adeline producing an heir of your own – otherwise you’ll just have to outlive me.’
‘I shall do my poor best,’ returned Rockliffe sweetly, ‘on both counts.’
This provoked more laughter. Then, turning an enigmatic gaze on Mr Audley and returning to the original topic, Charles Delahaye asked mildly, ‘May one ask what exactly was the wager that Mr Penhaligon suggested?’
‘A foolish prank,’ shrugged Sebastian, ‘and too tedious to be worth discussing.’
Sir Charles looked thoughtful but refrained from enquiring further.
‘Fair enough,’ said Harry. ‘Tell us about the secret wager instead. Is it in the book?’
‘It is,’ replied Lord Sarre. ‘And don’t imagine you can persuade Aristide to give you any clues. You can’t.’
‘We know that,’ remarked Philip Vernon. ‘The man’s a pillar of discretion.’
‘And his sister is a citadel,’ laughed Harry. ‘Still hunting for the key, Nick?’
Lord Nicholas coloured faintly.
‘No such thing! I merely find it convenient to dine at Sinclairs occasionally.’
Hiding a smile, Adrian turned the conversation in a new direction. ‘Aristide’s bought a house. The object is to reduce Madeleine’s involvement in the club or at the very least, to stop her living above it. Inevitably, she’s fighting him tooth and nail.’
‘If that’s the case, he might as well give up now,’ said Harry.
The ladies, meanwhile, had discovered that Althea Ingram was in an interesting condition and after surrounding her with congratulations and good wishes, were making plans to pay a collective call on the Duchess of Rockliffe. Under cover of all this, Lady Elinor leaned close to Cassie and whispered, ‘He doesn’t seem wicked to me. What do you think?’
