by Stella Riley
‘All I know is that Caroline is blissfully happy,’ responded Cassie, shrugging. ‘So how it came about doesn’t really matter, does it?’
‘The girl was an heiress, wasn’t she?’ asked Philip. ‘That might have had something to do with it.’
‘Adrian did not marry for money.’ His tone pleasant but very firm, Sebastian looked up from his wine-glass. ‘And he is as … blissfully happy … as his lady.’
‘A love-match?’ Harry raised his own glass. ‘Here’s to it, then.’
Elbows resting reprehensibly on the table, Nell leaned her chin in her palms and said dreamily, ‘In that case, I like my own theory best.’
‘And what is that?’ asked Isabel, smiling.
‘I think Lord Sarre fell hopelessly in love and proposed – but Caroline rejected him.’
‘Why on earth would she do that?’ objected Philip. ‘Sarre isn’t exactly a gargoyle – and an earl, to boot.’
‘She thought he only wanted her for her money,’ pronounced Nell. ‘Naturally, Lord Sarre was distraught.’
‘Naturally,’ agreed Cassie, laughing. ‘So what did he do?’
‘He abducted her.’
This triumphant declaration was greeted with a chorus of groans into which Nell said defensively, ‘Well, he could have. Only think how romantic!’
‘Abduction isn’t romantic, Nell,’ said Jack. ‘It’s about force. No man who truly cared for a lady would contemplate it … and Sarre is a gentleman.’
‘But isn’t that what makes the difference?’ mused Cassie. ‘I should imagine that being abducted by the right gentleman might be very romantic.’
‘Twaddle,’ said Harry. ‘Jack’s right. Sarre isn’t such a loose screw.’
‘Lord and Lady Sarre aside,’ said Isabel thoughtfully, ‘I agree with Cassie. I wouldn’t have minded being abducted by Philip.’
‘Nor I by Jack,’ confessed Althea shyly.
‘That makes three of us, then,’ grinned Nell. ‘So what do you say to that, Harry?’
He laughed, stood up and pulled her to her feet with him.
‘I say I’ll abduct you as far as the Azalea Walk, my lady. Romantic enough for you?’
She dimpled at him. ‘It will do … for now.’
Since Isabel and Althea expressed a desire to listen to Signor Tenducci, Mr Ingram volunteered to accompany them. Meanwhile, the rest of the party decided to pass the hour before the fireworks were due to begin by strolling about the gardens. Reminding himself to be sensible, Sebastian left Philip to take Cassie’s arm while he himself was drawn into conversation with Harry and Nell. Then her ladyship announced that she and Cassie would enjoy a gossip while the gentlemen talked amongst themselves, ‘Probably,’ she added naughtily, ‘about things unsuitable for female ears.’
Having a fair idea what Nell wanted to gossip about, Cassie wasn’t surprised when her ladyship murmured mischievously, ‘I can guess who you’d like to be abducted by.’
‘Stop it, Nell. Your imagination is running away with you again.’
‘And yours isn’t?’ She glanced over her shoulder, aware that the gentlemen had paused to greet one of Philip’s acquaintances. ‘You might at least admit that he’s desperately good-looking. That hair of his is extraordinary! Such a good thing he doesn’t like powder. Think what we’d all be missing.’
Cassie couldn’t help laughing. ‘You really are outrageous, you know. It’s a good job Harry can’t hear you rhapsodising about another man’s hair.’
‘Harry is a darling and knows perfectly well he has nothing to fear. Just because one is happily married doesn’t mean one goes blind. Also --’
‘Dear me – Lady Elinor, is it not?’ The musical voice interrupted Nell’s words and pulled her attention to its owner; a silver-fair beauty in blue, accompanied by Algernon Dudley. ‘How pleasant to see you again.’
Cassie encountered gleaming blue eyes and the air evaporated in her lungs.
Nell’s brows rose and she said coolly, ‘Forgive me. If we have met before, I’m afraid I don’t recall it.’
‘Hardly surprising. Bedford House was such a crush, was it not?’ Waving her fan in the direction of her escort, ‘I’m Miranda Silvarez. And you know Mr Dudley, of course.’
Barely – but as much as I want to, thought Nell, dropping the merest suggestion of a curtsy while, scarlet with embarrassment, Mr Dudley stared mutely at his feet. Finally, seeing no help for it, Nell said frostily, ‘My friend, Mistress Delahaye.’
The fan fluttered again and Miranda conducted a brisk head-to-toe appraisal. Then, with an inclination of her head which narrowly avoided being dismissive, her eyes returned to Nell and she said, ‘Perhaps your ladyship’s party would care to join Mr Dudley and myself for a glass of wine in our booth?’
And that was when, without realising it and engulfed by a wave of crippling jealousy, Cassie made a fatal mistake. Not bothering to hide her expression or dignify the invitation with a reply, she said baldly, ‘The concert will have finished, Nell. We should find the others. I’m sure this lady will excuse us.’
Still several paces away, Sebastian suddenly became aware of Miranda’s presence. With a brief muffled curse, he said, ‘Harry – for God’s sake get Nell and Cassandra away from that woman. They don’t know her – she’s scraping an acquaintance. Hell! I don’t know. Just do something, will you?’
Harry blinked. ‘If you’re so worried, why can’t you -- ?’
‘Because she’s my ex-mistress and that’s exactly what she wants!’
It was Harry’s turn to curse but he had the sense to do it on the move.
Meanwhile, Miranda’s sharp gaze had focussed solely on Cassie. She said slowly, ‘Have we met before?’
‘No.’
The blue eyes drifted past her, locked briefly with the furious ones of Mr Audley and returned to Cassie. ‘Are you sure?’
‘Perfectly.’ Cassie met stare with stare. ‘My memory is excellent.’
‘Nell, my love … Philip wants to find Isabel.’ Smoothly offering one arm to his wife and the other to Cassie in order to draw them back the way they had come, he said, ‘Shall we?’ And nodding coolly to the other couple, ‘Dudley … Madam. You’ll forgive us, I’m sure.’
As soon as they were they were out of earshot, Nell muttered, ‘Who was that? I don’t believe I ever met her before in my life.’
‘Dudley probably pointed you out as Rock’s sister,’ replied Harry, more than half of his mind on the prospect of asking Sebastian for an explanation. ‘Trying her hand, I imagine.’
Nell peered round him at Cassie. ‘You behaved very oddly. Had you met her?’
‘No. And I guessed you hadn’t either so I … I didn’t mind being slightly rude.’
Waiting for them beside Sebastian and with no idea what had taken place, Philip said, ‘Barclay says that Hawtrey’s stables are coming up for auction next week. Might be worth a look, don’t you think?’
Sending a brief level glance in Mr Audley’s direction, Harry agreed that it might.
Sebastian waited for a suitable opportunity and then, searching Cassie’s face, said quietly, ‘I’m sorry.’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
‘In essence, I’m fairly sure it was.’
So was Cassie and the thought brought that hot tide of feeling back. Setting her gaze on the path ahead so he could no longer read her expression, she said, ‘What did she want?’
‘Probably to make mischief. She … isn’t accustomed to rejection.’
‘Oh.’ The tide receded a little. ‘No. I imagine not.’
Sebastian hesitated, crushing back the impulse to say something he knew he shouldn’t.
Fortunately, at that moment, Jack appeared with Isabel and Althea, while overhead, the first fireworks burst in the sky. Startled and laughing, Cassie turned her face to the heavens, the light of a dozen sparkling colours dancing in her eyes; and seized by an even more unsuitable impulse, Sebastian shoved his hands in his pockets to stop himse
lf yielding to it.
* * *
At home in Half Moon Street, Miranda relieved her feelings by smashing a smug-looking china shepherdess in the hearth.
That’s her? was her first incredulous thought. That dull, ordinary creature? But of course it is. The Delahaye girl Richard said was too prim-and-proper to go out without her corset and have men scrapping over her. So I was right all along. She recognised me – first in the park, then again tonight. And how else could that happen if she didn’t already know who I was? The supercilious little bitch was in the library that night, listening to every damned word I said. And bloody Sebastian knew it and let her.
At this point, the shepherd nearly followed his mate.
Since the day Sebastian had said he wanted nothing more to do with her, Miranda had swung between extremes. She wanted him and hated him with equal ferocity. A part of her didn’t believe he’d meant his rejection and that he’d come crawling back; another part hungered to destroy his life by wreaking the worst kind of revenge; and somewhere inside all of that was just one, very clear fact. Sebastian Audley was hers. And if she couldn’t have him, no other woman would either.
Has he completely lost his wits? If he prefers her to me, it’s either that or … or he’s in love with her. Is he? Could it possibly be that? She gave an unsteady laugh. God. How perfect. There are a dozen ways I could wreck that for him. Her eyes narrowed. And I don’t even need Richard to do it. The theatre, yes … introductions, yes … but nothing else. Even this notion of using rumour … I can do that myself. In fact, I’ll make a much better job of it than Richard would by dropping a few hints into drunken ears over the card table. Indeed, if everything goes according to plan, Richard will soon become completely expendable. She laughed again as a whole new idea occurred to her. Or then again – maybe not. Oh yes. If it could be done, that would be perfect. But first things first.
And crossing to her writing desk, she drew a clean sheet of paper in front of her and picked up her pen.
~ * * ~ * * ~
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Madeleine stared at the expensive paper inscribed in a hand she didn’t recognise, that awaited her at the breakfast table and touched it hesitantly with one finger.
‘You could open it,’ suggested her brother.
Although he still mainly resided at Sinclairs, Aristide had formed a habit of spending a couple of random nights a week at the house so it didn’t appear that Madeleine lived there alone but for the servants.
Slowly, she broke the seal and even more slowly, digested its contents. Then she said, ‘It’s from Lady Isabel, inviting me for tea this afternoon.’
Aristide lowered his newspaper. ‘Will you go?’
‘I don’t know. It’s kind of her – but several orders are being delivered today and I had intended to look into the wine bill from Teague’s. I’m fairly sure they have been over-charging. And --’
‘Excuses, Madeleine. All of those things can easily be attended to by someone else – preferably by an assistant, were you to take my advice and engage one. If you haven’t the courage to go to Great Jermyn Street, at least summon up enough nerve to admit it.’
‘That isn’t fair!’
‘No?’ He folded the paper, placed it neatly beside his empty plate and stood up. ‘In that case, I beg your pardon.’ He headed for the door but paused a few steps from it to turn and say, ‘Since Lord Nicholas is once more dining with us from time to time, I assume that you and he have reconciled your differences.’
‘You might say so.’
He sighed. ‘Have you or haven’t you?’
‘Oh for heaven’s sake!’ She surged to her feet. ‘Yes. I apologised – and he made me wish I hadn’t. Satisfied now?’
‘As much,’ replied Aristide with a wry smile, ‘as I can possibly hope for.’ And was gone.
Madeleine drew a long breath and slid back into her chair, to stare mutinously at Isabel’s polite invitation. Then, muttering French curses beneath her breath, she went upstairs to write a note of acceptance.
* * *
While Madeleine was taking tea with half a dozen ladies in Great Jermyn Street, Lord Harry ran Mr Audley to earth at Angelo’s Fencing Academy.
Passing the smaller salon, he caught sight of Richard Penhaligon apparently trouncing Alastair Vennor. This, Harry knew, wasn’t very difficult since Sir Alastair was blessed with no more than moderate ability. If he’d been feeling charitable, Harry would have supposed that Vennor was the only available opponent; but as he didn’t like Penhaligon very much, he concluded that the fellow enjoyed having an inflated sense of his own skill.
Mr Audley was in the main salon. His opponent was the Duke of Rockliffe.
Hell’s teeth, thought Harry. And catching sight of Amberley leaning against the wall further down the room, pocket watch open in his hand, Didn’t you warn him?
Both men were barefoot and clad only in shirt and breeches. The fight eddied and flowed across the floor in a sequence of swift, complex moves punctuated by brief pauses. Harry remained in the doorway and watched. Rockliffe didn’t appear to be making any allowances, yet Sebastian was managing to hold his own. This, since there were very few men who could stand against the Duke for more than a handful of minutes and everyone knew that Angelo would have been happy to engage his Grace as an instructor, was quite an achievement. Harry was impressed.
Rockliffe made a sudden lunge followed by a driving attack which sent Sebastian back down the room before he managed to halt it. Then, moving quickly to one side, he dropped the point of his foil to the floor and held up a hand.
‘Enough,’ he said, his breath coming hard and fast. ‘I yield.’
Rockliffe lowered his own blade and, catching the towel tossed to him by the Marquis, said, ‘How long?’
‘Eleven minutes,’ replied Amberley, snapping the watch shut and throwing a second towel to Sebastian. ‘A very respectable showing.’
‘Respectable?’ Sebastian managed an uneven laugh. ‘I nearly killed myself for merely respectable?’
‘Be fair, Dominic,’ said Harry, strolling into the room. ‘He did damned well. I’ve never managed to keep hold of my foil for more than five minutes.’
‘That is because you are predictable, my dear,’ drawled his Grace, draping the towel around his neck and advancing on Sebastian, hand outstretched. ‘Well done, Mr Audley. Those were the most enjoyable eleven minutes I’ve had for some time.’
‘Glad to have been of service,’ said Sebastian. ‘I’ll volunteer again some time when I’ve got over today.’
The Duke merely smiled and glancing at Lord Harry and the Marquis said, ‘White’s, don’t you think? When Mr Audley and I have made ourselves presentable, naturally.’
An hour later when the four gentlemen had settled into a quiet corner with a tray of coffee, Amberley said, ‘So what brought you to Angelo’s today, Harry? It’s not one of your more regular haunts, is it?’
His lordship hesitated briefly. ‘I wanted a word with Sebastian. Privately.’
‘You can speak of it here,’ sighed Sebastian. ‘Indeed, if that kind of thing is to occur again, you may as well – or I’ll do it myself, if you like.’
Harry nodded. ‘That might be best. And you can trust Rock and Dominic.’
‘I know.’ Setting aside his coffee and keeping his eyes fixed on his hands, Sebastian said, ‘A woman with whom I once had an affair in Lisbon is now a widow and in London. She had convinced herself that I would marry her and was less than philosophical when I made it plain that I wouldn’t. Last night, she must have caught sight of me at Vauxhall and decided to cause me embarrassment. But she didn’t approach me directly. Instead, she accosted Lady Elinor and Mistress Delahaye and introduced herself to them.’
‘Ah.’ Rockliffe toyed thoughtfully with an emerald-studded snuff-box. ‘Exactly the kind of thing one may expect at Vauxhall. But I digress. So … what happened next?’
‘Nothing.’ It was Harry who spoke. ‘Sebastian alerted me
to the problem and I got the girls away without mishap.’ He looked across at Mr Audley. ‘You said confronting her yourself wasn’t a good idea.’
‘And it wouldn’t have been. She might not have made a scene … but she has a talent for unpleasant innuendo.’
‘Well, I suppose you can’t be blamed for the incident. Everybody’s got at least one skeleton that won’t lie quiet.’
‘Speak for yourself,’ retorted Amberley. And to Sebastian, ‘Why do I suspect that you are concerned by something more than a woman of dubious morality trying to force her acquaintance on Nell and Cassie?’
Sebastian took his time about answering but finally said, ‘The Bedford House rumour travelled faster and lasted longer than seemed normal. It occurred to me that someone was stirring the pot.’ He reached into his pocket and tossed a copy of The Whisperer on the table. ‘This suggests I was right.’
Harry’s brows rose and he picked it up. He said, ‘This is today’s edition.’
‘I know. Someone left it on my doorstep this morning.’
We at The Whisperer are delighted to welcome back the Honourable and Notoriously Entertaining Mr Sebastian Audley who has been absent from our pages far too long. A week ago, Mr Audley came to our notice at Bedford House … but that is now Old News. More recently, is word of a brief disappearance from the Beau Monde, during which the Gentleman is reputed to have indulged in prolonged debauch in a certain Nunnery where he undertook a Marathon involving no less than a dozen fair Cyprians. Can it be that Mr Audley has not, as was thought, renounced his former ways? See the next Edition!
‘Good Lord, Sebastian!’ Grinning, Harry tossed the sheet back on the table. ‘You’re clearly a hell of a fellow.’
