by Stella Riley
‘Why not?’
‘Because it spoils the line of the gown,’ she replied impatiently and smoothed the silk down over ribs, waist and hips to demonstrate her point.
Sebastian shut his eyes.
By now thoroughly baffled, Cassie said, ‘What is the matter with you? And how do you know what I’m not wearing? I made quite sure it wasn’t at all obvious.’
‘Oh God.’ The blue eyes opened again. ‘You really don’t know, do you?’
‘Know what, for heaven’s sake? You’re beginning to sound demented.’
He ignored this.
‘My sweet, witless innocent … like myself, every man who’s touched you tonight knows what you’re not wearing. And that’s because we gentlemen are accustomed to encountering whalebone and buckram rather than warm, soft delicious curves. Is that clear enough for you?’
This time Cassie turned absolutely scarlet and promptly lost her head. She said tartly, ‘I’m sure you are perfectly accustomed to d-delicious curves. That woman from the library – with whom I saw you conversing just the other day in the park and whose relationship with you isn’t hard to guess – is here tonight. And I doubt very much if she is wearing a corset either!’
There was a brief appalled silence while she regretted her outburst and Sebastian tried once again to keep his tongue in check. Then, failing, he said, ‘You may be right about the corset … but you’re completely wrong about the other thing.’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Meaning that no, the lady is not my mistress and hasn’t been for some considerable time. Upon which infelicitous note, I think I should escort you back inside – before I say something else I shouldn’t.’
* * *
Lady Silvarez moved away from the place, just inside the windows and half-hidden by the gentle drift of the curtains, where she’d managed to witness quite a lot of this scene; this highly informative and utterly infuriating scene. Then she went to find Mr Penhaligon in order to tell him that Sebastian Audley had just knocked a young man into the shrubbery, prior to spending ten minutes alone with a young lady whose name she didn’t know.
Not having encountered Cassie that evening, Richard didn’t know either – but that hardly mattered. Within half an hour, he’d spread the word that Mr Audley wasn’t perhaps quite such a dull fellow these days after all … and started speculation about who he’d punched and why and, most interesting of all, the identity of the lady in red.
* * *
Later that night, Sebastian sat beside an empty hearth, an untouched glass of brandy in his hand, trying to make some sense out of the jumbled thoughts and emotions that were seething inside him. He stared vacantly at the partly-played game on the chessboard which normally occupied the last hour before bed; a small ritual which tonight had lost its usual meaning. Instead, four words hammered over and over inside his head.
What am I doing?
The wager between himself and Adrian had never been more than a means to an end so winning it didn’t matter. What hadn’t ever occurred to him was that, whilst the game was in play, he might find himself forming an attachment. And yet that was what seemed to be happening.
At Nell Caversham’s party, he’d wanted to kiss Cassandra Delahaye. That had been harmless enough. After all, there were lots of girls one might want to kiss from time to time and, so long as one didn’t act on it, it meant nothing. Tonight, however, he’d glimpsed what he’d thought was an unknown lady across a ballroom and been flooded with something he could only describe as recognition, along with a species of indefinable knowledge … to which both his mind and his body had responded in a way he’d never experienced before. The subsequent discovery that that stranger was Cassandra had sent him reeling and thrown him completely off-balance; and that, of course, had been directly responsible for him punching that young idiot when he needn’t have done so. If he was honest, the whole episode scared the hell out of him and effectively stopped him asking himself the question hovering at the edges of his brain.
Abruptly, he stood up and drained the glass in one swallow.
April was nearly over. He’d been in London for four weeks and had always intended to make a brief visit to Sussex at some point to see how his father did. This, he decided, would be as good a time as any. A few days away would enable him to put things in perspective and return to town in a less muddled state of mind.
Yes. In the morning, he’d cancel his forthcoming engagements and ask Hobson to pack for a brief stay at Audley Court. Five days should do it. Two spent largely in travel and three at the Court. He could also pay Adrian a visit … which might help more than anything else he could think of.
~ * * ~ * * ~
CHAPTER ELEVEN
While Mr Audley was driving to Sussex, Aristide finally persuaded his sister to accompany him to the house in Duke Street. Madeleine had been oddly subdued of late and though he’d so far refrained from commenting on it, Aristide suspected he knew why. But it was only sensible, while she was being less difficult than usual, to take advantage of it.
The house wasn’t as large as Madeleine had feared and was furnished with the sort of spare elegance that spoke of her brother’s influence. Standing in the drawing-room and looking around with a critical eye, she said, ‘Was it like this when you bought it?’
‘No. There was too much furniture and a great many ugly ornaments.’
He waited and when she said nothing further told her that he had engaged a housekeeper, a butler, two housemaids and a footman. He did not trouble to mention that both the butler and the footman possessed additional skills; he rather supposed that when Madeleine saw the muscles on them, she’d draw her own conclusions.
At length, since she still remained silent, he said, ‘Come and see the bedchambers.’
There were four, all of them light and of good proportions. There was also a room suitably equipped to serve as an office.
‘I thought,’ suggested Aristide mildly, ‘that you might wish to attend to some of your paperwork here rather than at the club.’
Madeleine ran her fingers over the gleaming surface of a lovely little rosewood desk and eventually said, ‘Very well. Since you’re determined on it, I’ll live here.’
He heaved a silent sigh of relief. ‘Thank you. Do you like it?’
‘It’s well enough, I suppose. Do you intend to live here as well?’
‘Eventually, perhaps. But for now I’ll appear to do so in order to spare you the necessity of a female companion.’
The green eyes impaled him on a withering stare.
‘Continue to spare me that, Aristide. It’s one battle you will never win.’
He nodded and wandered away to look through the window.
‘Do you want to tell me what happened between you and Nicholas Wynstanton?’
Her nerves snarled but she said, ‘There’s nothing to tell. Why do you think there is?’
‘He’s changed his habits since that evening at the Cavershams. Though he still meets friends and plays in the main salon, he no longer dines upstairs.’ He turned and eyed her with an air of calm enquiry. ‘I thought you might know why.’
‘I don’t.’
‘No?’
‘No.’ She swung away towards the fireplace. ‘Lord Nicholas’s habits are nothing to do with me – or you either, if it comes to that. So can we please drop the subject?’
‘As you wish.’ He thought for a moment. ‘What answer have you given Lady Elinor about her request to see the club?’
‘None – since you and I have yet to discuss it properly. Do you have any objection?’
‘Not unless she and the other ladies have some idea about not telling their husbands what they’re up to and expect me to do the same. For the rest, I don’t see any harm in a private visit – though I don’t understand their desire for it.’
‘That’s because you’re a man and can go anywhere you want to. Ladies like these, can’t. Sinclairs is the forbidden zone where their husbands are regular visitors. Of course th
ey’re curious.’
‘Do you know who will be accompanying Lady Elinor?’
‘Not definitely. But my guess would be Mistress Ingram, Lady Isabel and the Marchioness of Amberley.’
‘Very well. Arrange it. Any afternoon between two and four … and though I’ll be present myself, I’d prefer they also brought a gentleman with them. If there are other details, I leave them to you.’
‘Good.’ She strolled back into one of the bedrooms. ‘You may also leave me here to look around on my own. And before you say it – yes, when I am ready to return to Sinclairs, I promise to take the damned footman with me.’
She waited until she heard the front door close behind him and even stood at the window to watch him walk up the street. Then, when she was quite sure she was alone, Madeleine skimmed down the curve of the stairs to the drawing-room and whirled round in a rare moment of pleasure she hadn’t expected to feel. The house promised something she hadn’t known since she was ten years old. A proper home.
That thought was almost enough to make her forget the heavy, lingering darkness caused by the knowledge that Nicholas Wynstanton had not forgiven her and probably never would. Almost … but not quite.
Resolutely telling herself she’d only got what she’d asked for, Madeleine retraced her steps to the room that would be her private office and wrote a note to Elinor Caversham.
As for moving into the house, she would do it tomorrow.
* * *
Lady Elinor received Mademoiselle’s note and began her own arrangements, only to find them hitting an unexpected snag. However, since she was confident that this was merely temporary, she replied to Madeleine suggesting a day at the end of the week. Then she summoned her carriage and went off to ask Cassie to take a drive with her.
As it happened, Mistress Delahaye had spent an uncomfortable morning. Immediately after breakfast, Sir Charles had drawn her to one side and said quietly, ‘I am wondering, Cassie, if you spent any time with Mr Audley at Bedford House the other evening – aside, of course, from when he escorted you in search of your mother and myself. I am also wondering if you know anything about an alleged brawl on the terrace.’
Her brain started to whirl. She didn’t know why Papa was asking but could see, all too clearly, the ramifications that the truth would create. She’d have to admit allowing herself to be drawn – however unwillingly – out of the ballroom by three gentlemen with whom she wasn’t acquainted but who she’d known weren’t sober. Then there was the inescapable fact that it had been she, not Sebastian, who had wanted to stay outside after she’d watched him knock a fellow over the parapet. And finally there were the things that Sebastian had said to her and the equally unacceptable things she’d said to him. None of it bore thinking about.
Cowardice won.
‘No, Papa. I didn’t even dance with Mr Audley.’ That, at least, was true. ‘And I don’t know anything about a – a fight. It sounds a bit unlikely though, doesn’t it?’
‘One would hope so.’ Charles continued to regard her thoughtfully for a moment but finally said, ‘Very well, my dear. There has been some talk which includes mention of a lady in a red gown. I realise that you were one of numerous ladies wearing red that evening … but you will understand why I felt it necessary to ask.’
‘Yes, Papa,’ she agreed weakly. ‘Of course.’
It was only then that she realised what she should have thought of in the first place. Papa might put the same questions to Mr Audley; and Cassie had the lowering feeling that Mr Audley would tell the truth.
She was grateful when Nell bore her off in the carriage and even more grateful to her when she revealed something reassuring.
Having told her friend all about the planned expedition to Sinclairs and suggested that she might like to join it, Nell said, ‘Monsieur Delacroix’s only stipulation is that we take a gentleman with us. And though all the husbands are happy for us to go, we ladies have agreed that we don’t want it to be one of them who escorts us. My first thought was Nicholas – but he virtually bit my head off when I mentioned it. So I decided upon Mr Audley, only it turns out he’s gone out of town for a few days which means I can’t ask him.’
Thank goodness, thought Cassie. Papa won’t be able to ask him anything either. And with luck, by the time he returns whatever talk there has been will be forgotten.
‘Well?’ demanded Nell. ‘Do you want to come to Sinclairs or not? It’s probably the only chance you’ll get. And though you may not be very curious about the place now, that will change when you find yourself married to a gentleman who spends half his evenings there.’
‘I don’t think Mama would permit it.’
‘Then don’t tell her. No one else will because everyone’s sworn to secrecy.’
Having told one lie today, Cassie wasn’t sure she was ready for further deceit. On the other hand, joining the Sinclairs party might enable her to get to Mr Audley before Papa did. Temporising, she said, ‘When will you go?’
‘I’ve sent Madeleine a note suggesting Friday – though that may change if Mr Audley hasn’t returned.’ Nell grinned encouragingly. ‘It will be an adventure, Cassie. So throw caution to the winds and come.’
‘I’ll think about it,’ she said. And to herself, As for throwing caution to the winds … given the way I’m starting to feel about Sebastian Audley, I suspect I’ve already done that.
* * *
Sebastian found his father back on his feet and filled with a new determination. As soon as the moment of welcome was behind them, he said, ‘You need to learn the workings of the estate and its responsibilities, my boy. Should have started this long ago – so we’ve a lot of time to make up, beginning tomorrow morning.’
And that was that. Sebastian spent three very long days with scarcely a minute to himself. He rode about the estate with Hapgood, the land steward, meeting tenants who scarcely remembered the boy who had gone off to Cambridge a decade ago. He spent hours locked in the library with Hapgood and his father, poring over holdings, acreages, rents and a score of other things, all of which left his brain feeling as if it had been pummelled. And in the evening, after a dinner during which Blanche glowered silently at him across the table, he sat beside his father’s hearth and was tested on the day’s lessons.
He resisted none of it because he understood. It was another consequence of Lord Wingham having recently come face to face with his own mortality; but it was also a part of Sebastian’s education that should have been taking place during the years he’d spent playing. He also realised that when his father died, he’d have to shoulder his new responsibilities immediately. It was a sobering thought and one he tried not to dwell on; but he put aside any idea of visiting Adrian and applied himself to the best of his ability.
In the only hour he took for himself, he sat in the family graveyard with Theodore. Even when paying the most fleeting of visits to Audley Court, he never failed to come here. In childhood, he’d come to cry and to shout at God for taking Theo away. Then, as the years passed, he’d remember times gone by; the days when he’d got Theo into trouble but always done his best to get him out of it again – or, if he couldn’t, to at least take the blame. Gradually, those memories had made it easier to smile.
Today, however, he did something he rarely did. He sat on the grass beside Theo’s tomb and talked. Not to the eight year-old child who’d died; but to the brother, only minutes older than himself, as if the years had kept pace with them both.
‘It should be you, you know. By now, you’d know all this stuff Father and Hapgood are trying to cram into my head. You’d know all the tenants by name and which has a new child or has lost a grandfather … and they’d smile and wave when you ride by. And the prettiest girls in the neighbourhood would be trying to catch your eye … unless you’re already married, with a beautiful wife who adores you. It should be you, Theo. Instead of which, they’re stuck with me – the idiot who wasted years on things which, when it comes right down to it, never mattered a jot.
’
He fell silent for a moment, pulling a single small weed from beside the headstone and turning it between his fingers.
‘Here’s the thing. There’s a girl … a lady. You’d like her. I was going to say that I do, too – but the truth is that it’s gone way beyond that. Twice inside a week she turned me into a gibbering idiot; once by scaring the hell out of me when she nearly got herself killed and then by going to a masquerade ball in a gown that …’ He stopped , breathing a little fast. ‘God. I can’t even think about that without … well, you know. But it isn’t just lust, Theo. She makes me want the things that are meant to go with it; things I’ve never wanted before. Love, I suppose – though I know damn all about it. All I do know is that I’ve got this all-encompassing sense that she’s mine but nobody knows it, not even her. How stupid is that?’
Tossing the weed aside, he draped his arm across the small, marble tomb.
‘Every now and again, I catch myself thinking of marriage. There. That’s shocked you, hasn’t it? It shocks me, too. I hadn’t expected it and I certainly wasn’t looking for it … yet now it’s inescapable, even though there’s no certainty that she’d have me.’ He gave a brief laugh. ‘She’s ripped up at me a couple of times which I gather isn’t like her, so that might be a good sign, I suppose. But even if she would have me, financially I’m not in a position to marry anyone. And if I ask Father for help, he might use the purse-strings to force me to live here at the Court … and I can’t do it. Part of the year, yes. But permanently? I can’t. I just can’t live in the same house as Blanche. So the only answer is to stay away from Cassandra … except that I’m not sure I can do that either.’ Sighing, he leaned his cheek against his arm. ‘If you’ve any suggestions, brother, now would be a good time to make them.’
* * *
Having promised Lord Wingham that he’d return in four weeks’ time, Sebastian arrived back in Cork Street to a small pile of invitations, among which were no less than three missives from Elinor Caversham – each one littered with more exclamation marks than the one before it. Grinning, Sebastian scribbled a brief reply and despatched it to Mount Street. Then he sauntered round to Sinclairs for a belated dinner.
