“Of course,” Eleanor said. “But in this case it was a Norfolk laborer named Frank Garth who recommended red flannel most highly.”
Lord Ranking seemed oblivious to her teasing. “I understand. Wisdom may be found in the most unlikely places. You are a fellow sufferer, no doubt?”
“Lady Eleanor was abed with a dreadful ague at Acton Mead during Christmas,” Diana added quickly. Since it had been only a simple cold, this was a most iniquitous exaggeration.
“How extraordinary! I myself suffered just the same thing,” Roger Waters said, immediately drawing Eleanor aside.
She sat beside him on the couch, and for Diana’s sake began to display the deepest interest in his ailments. For the first time in her life, Eleanor discovered that it was really quite simple to be captivating, after all. Nothing more was needed than to allow the victim to talk endlessly about himself. When it was someone as empty-headed as Lord Ranking, it was simplicity itself.
Thus to Lady Augusta’s horror and Lady Acton’s amusement, by the time tea was served, the heir to the dukedom of Maybury had not once paid the slightest attention to Diana.
Then when the tea dishes were cleared away, he suddenly declared himself unable to stay in the damp drafts of Norfolk for one second longer than necessary. He would accompany the Acton coach up to Town on the morrow and the Harts could follow as they wished.
There was nothing that Lady Augusta could say to make him change his mind.
Diana’s profuse and ardent thanks were to be Eleanor’s only reward.
And her cold comfort during the next two weeks as Lord Ranking seemed determined to become a regular visitor.
They arrived safely in London, where Eleanor’s father, the earl, was already ensconced in Acton House on Park Lane. Lord Ranking had accompanied them up from Norfolk, yet to his chagrin had found that the Actons had no intention of sharing either carriage. He had been with them, however, for every meal and stop to change horses, when Lady Acton had unmercifully teased him about his fastidiousness, his health, and his sensibilities. It had only added to her delight that Lord Ranking seemed impervious to her meaning.
The Earl of Acton, of course, had never been a cramp on his wife’s style, and whenever he saw the sprig of the Duke of Maybury approaching the front door, Eleanor’s father instantly retreated to his study, but the countess was having a wonderful time.
“Lord Ranking can’t forget the tender solicitude you first showed him at Hawksley, Eleanor, when you advised him about the red flannel. It’s your own fault that he hangs about your skirts,” she said with glee when Eleanor finally complained.
“Then I wish you would discourage him, Mama. I have more than done my duty by Diana. Surely I don’t have to pay for it by accepting morning calls from Lord Ranking for the rest of the Season?”
“Nonsense, take it as a compliment! His attentions make the other young men take notice.”
Which, perhaps fortunately considering Eleanor’s fragile heart, was not proving to be true.
Although it was still early in the Season, every night was filled with balls and routs, soirées and assemblies. Eleanor found she must dress each evening in various pale shades of silk to attend an endless round of events.
Somehow, she was supposed to attract a suitable swain. So far, only Lord Ranking seemed to be impressed.
Leander Campbell, the one man she could not get out of her mind, was nowhere to be seen. Yet his name was often mentioned. Eleanor gathered that, although he wasn’t invited to the kinds of assemblies considered suitable for girls like her, he was sought after by every hostess for her private dinner parties.
Sometimes the ladies would mention him with a breathless little sigh, but it seemed that he was generally held in the highest regard and it was with some regret that he was not accepted everywhere. It only goes to show what a consummate actor he is, she thought angrily.
The very first week culminated in her presentation, along with a white-clad flock of other young ladies, to the Queen. She had indeed worn a feather in her hair and the required hooped dress, worn only at court, as had they all.
“We looked like a flock of ducks,” she said later to Diana.
As expected, Lady Augusta had also brought her daughter to London in order to pursue the elusive Lord Ranking. Unlike Eleanor, Diana was the center of a crowd of admirers at every turn. Walter Downe tried hard to pay her no more attention than was acceptable. But Lord Ranking seemed to have entirely lost interest, and every day—much to Eleanor’s disquiet—he called at the Acton townhouse.
Thus Lady Acton, Eleanor, and Roger Waters sat one afternoon in the upstairs gilt-and-ivory drawing room at the front of the house, above the incessant rattle of carriages on Park Lane.
“It is a great misfortune,” Lord Ranking said, gazing damply at Eleanor—who was trying to avoid his eyes by admiring the frescoes above her head—“that Lady Diana Hart should have such a half-brother. I passed Mr. Campbell as I arrived at Hawksley. The man barely had the courtesy to move his horse from the road. Then today I was forced to acknowledge him at my club. One of the fellows invited him in as a guest. Far from being humbled by the honor, he behaved with the greatest insolence. A vagabond fellow, but then what can you expect from someone so situated? Nothing of the kind has ever happened in our family, I am grateful to say.”
“Your family has always been such a model of propriety, hasn’t it?” Lady Acton said instantly. “I recall your father in his youth. Wasn’t there some problem with Lady Hare, or was it with the Marchioness of Withy? I forget now, perhaps it was both.”
Eleanor resolutely ignored Lord Ranking’s comments about Mr. Campbell and was idly admiring the bulbous limbs of the painted Athene on the ceiling. Surrounded by cherubs in fluffy pink clouds, the noble Goddess of Wisdom forever threatened to burst from her draperies. In what extraordinary corner of the realm had the artist found his model? Or had he created the poor lady purely from imagination?
And then Lady Acton made her comment about Lady Hare and the Marchioness of Withy. Eleanor concentrated very hard on the owl by the goddess’s shoulder to avoid disgracing herself with unseemly giggles.
Roger Waters dabbed at his nose. “I cannot answer to that, Lady Acton. Yet I trust my father went about his concerns with impeccable manners. Mr. Campbell can hardly be expected to appreciate the standards of persons so far above him in life as we are. He can never be accepted as an equal by any real English gentleman.”
“No, Mr. Campbell follows only his own code of honor,” Lady Acton said. “Inherited from his Highland forebears, no doubt, if his father and yours were examples of the English peerage in which you take such pride. Imagine if we allowed personal integrity to count for more than birth and privilege! Society would fall apart at the seams, don’t you agree?”
Her sarcasm this time could not be ignored, even by Lord Ranking. He colored a little and soon took his leave.
“Thank God!” the countess said, suddenly bursting out laughing. “What a pompous fellow! How I wish I had been a fly on the wall when Leander Campbell gave him a set down.”
Eleanor turned from the window where she had gone to watch Lord Ranking’s carriage finally pull away.
“Don’t say you admire Mr. Campbell, Mama? How can you defend him after what happened in Norfolk? What is more dishonorable or despicable than blackmail? He would have bled you of everything—and Sir Robert, too. He didn’t know you, though that’s no excuse, but he owed a great deal to the major. The man rescued him from Ireland. He even taught him to ride. It seems incredible to me that you can link Mr. Campbell’s name with the idea of honor.”
“My dear child,” the countess said seriously. “I do believe you have hold of the wrong end of the stick. It is not Mr. Campbell who wanted my money and my jewels, believe me.”
Eleanor stared at her mother. “It wasn’t? But he brought the letters back.”
“For which I shall be eternally grateful. But Mr. Campbell wasn’t my blackmailer, Eleanor
. Good God, the man risked a great deal to get the letters back for me.”
Her heart began to dance very oddly in her breast. If Leander Campbell hadn’t blackmailed her mother, then she had been guilty of an appalling misjudgment.
“Then who was behind those demands for money?”
Lady Acton sank gracefully into a chair. “You don’t really need to know, do you?”
“No, I suppose not. You’re sure it wasn’t Leander Campbell?”
“I swear it to you, my dear. I went to see Sir Robert, as you may remember, the morning we left Norfolk, and I know the truth. I promised the major I would never reveal it, and that’s a promise I shall keep. But for heaven’s sake, not only do I owe my rescue to Leander Campbell, I find I like him a great deal.” Lady Acton looked closely at her daughter. “You’re not indifferent either, are you? He’s a charming young man, but don’t succumb, Eleanor. You know it’s impossible.”
“Succumb!” Eleanor said indignantly. “I’m pleased for Diana’s sake to find that her brother isn’t really a black villain, but I still think he’s an out-and-out rogue.”
“Well,” Lady Acton said, taking up her fan and casually opening and closing it. “Thank goodness for that!”
* * *
Lee rode quietly though the park. He realized idly that it was the first day of May. Some of his acquaintance acknowledged him publicly, some did not. He was used to it. His fertile brain was involved with other matters. He had indeed received no satisfaction from his confrontation with the major.
They had faced each other across the table at the Dog Inn two weeks before. Major Crabtree’s features had been familiar to Lee since childhood, yet he had spent most of the years since out of England. How well did he really know the man?
“I would like you to know, sir,” Lee had said, “that I am aware of the work that Frank Garth’s brother did for you many years ago. I took the liberty of examining the roses in the library paneling for myself.”
Major Crabtree’s honest face colored above the military mustaches. “Then you know of certain papers pertaining to your birth?”
“Indeed, sir. But you may be interested to know that the most critical of those papers no longer exists.”
Sir Robert looked away for a moment while different expressions raced across his features. Lee watched him carefully. It seemed for a moment that the predominant emotion was anger, but that made no sense, so he dismissed it.
“You destroyed them?” the major said at last. His voice was almost choked.
“Yes, the marriage papers are burned. Did you think I would proclaim the contents to the world: my father was a bigamist; my sister is a bastard? I understand why you would not wish to destroy Lady Augusta and her daughter, but why did you kept my mother’s marriage secret from me? Good God, I would have thought you could have trusted me better than that! And if you didn’t, why not destroy the papers yourself?”
Major Crabtree looked down so that Lee couldn’t see his face. “It wasn’t my place,” he said.
“Well, I thought it was mine,” Lee said. “You have kept silent about this for twenty years, sir. I trust nothing will change now?”
The major glanced up. He looked ill. “Of course not.”
“You should also know that I am aware of your predicament over Lady Acton’s letters.”
“For God’s sake, you young puppy!”
“Frank Garth told me of other hiding places in the house.”
The major glared at the younger man. “Then you know that I have already recovered the letters myself.”
“So it would seem, sir. They are now in my pocket, along with the note demanding a ransom to be sent to Red Lion Street. I have already been to the bookseller. He knows nothing, except that he expects a packet from Lady Acton to be picked up by a gentleman who will identify himself. It’s a popular spot, of course. Every gentleman in Norfolk goes in at one time or another. But since you retrieved the letters, we can hardly expect him to show up. I gave instructions for the packet to be sent back to Lady Acton. You will have no objection to my delivering the letters to her forthwith?”
Lee had discovered the letters with genuine astonishment. He had searched the house for evidence about Manton Barnes, and instead found Lady Acton’s letters hidden in a cupboard in the upstairs drawing room. How had they come to be there at Deerfield, when the major had said they were stolen? For God’s sake, the man had been his childhood hero—he could hardly be involved in blackmail. That left only one explanation and reassuringly the major had just given it: Sir Robert had already recovered the letters himself. Yet Lee felt an uncomfortable sense of frustration.
The major was now very white, but he had his voice well under control. “I should be happy if you would do so, of course, since that was my own intention. Yet I am still within my rights to damn you for an interfering cad, Mr. Campbell. I happen to be in love with the lady. If I could return the letters myself as I had planned, maybe she would forgive me. Now I doubt she’ll even give me the honor of a farewell.”
“Oh, spare me, Major,” Lee said lightly.
Sir Robert leaned across the table and grabbed him by the wrist. “You’ve never been in love, have you? I hope it comes on you like a thunderbolt, and the lady spurns and despises you.”
“All ladies spurn and despise me, Major. That’s why I seek solace with females of a different kind.” Lee shook off the major’s restraining hand. “Would you feel at liberty to tell me who originally took Lady Acton’s letters?”
The major sneered. “Certainly not! Let me just say that it is someone closer to you than you think.”
Lee looked at him for a moment. He would never forget the expression on Sir Robert’s face. In that moment he knew that the major had become a real enemy. He would get no more out of him.
So Sir Robert Crabtree had stayed in Norfolk, but he was shielding someone.
Who?
Someone who had access to Deerfield, someone who could visit Red Lion Street without notice and—if his suspicions of a connection were correct—someone who had known Manton Barnes. Only one name came to mind: Walter. He dismissed the thought as fast as it came.
That was the worst of this damnable business: everyone was suspect. Surely he had missed something? Something obvious. Finding the copy of his mother’s marriage lines had bothered him more than he thought, and when he tried to relax and allow his mind full rein to speculate, all he thought of was Eleanor.
Well, he had given up, quite deliberately, any possibility of ever winning her. Surely he had more self-control than to regret it?
Thus it was that April had passed into May.
Lee looked up as a carriage passed him, then he halted the black. Accompanied only by a groom, a supple young lady was riding toward him on a spirited dun. She had said she had ridden to hounds with her brothers. As he watched her handle the mount, he didn’t doubt it. Eleanor looked beautiful on horseback.
At the same moment, she glanced in his direction and her face flooded with color. Lee gave her a sardonic grin and the faintest nod of the head. He expected her to cut him dead. Instead, with a quick word to the groom who stayed well behind her, she set her horse straight toward him.
“Is this wise, Lady Eleanor?” Lee asked as she came up.
“I’ve never been wise, remember?” she replied. “I wanted to talk with you.”
The black champed at the bit and tossed its head.
Lee raised a brow. “Indeed? Do you think I’m in particular need of reproof? I can’t think of anything I’ve done recently that’s so very bad. Or at least, not much worse than usual.”
So he was going to make this difficult. Eleanor wasn’t surprised. She had just observed the way many members of the ton ignored Mr. Campbell. The open snobbery made her suddenly very angry. She turned her horse to fall in beside his. He could do nothing but allow her to ride on with him, the Acton groom following discreetly behind them.
“I owe you an apology,” she said, her cheeks fl
aming. “Please have the grace to accept it.”
“Good heavens! Now you have me completely at a loss. For what small transgression could you possibly feel remorse?”
“Stop it,” Eleanor said bluntly. “This isn’t in the least bit easy. But when I’ve wronged someone, it’s only right to say I’m sorry. I know now you never took my mother’s letters and instead somehow recovered them from the real blackmailer. Mama told me so two days ago. I’m sorry that I ever accused you, and I want to thank you for what you did. You saved Lady Acton from certain ruin.”
He laughed. “Very well, I am found out. I tried so very hard to act the villain. Instead you have discovered that I’m really a saint.”
Eleanor turned on him, her eyes blazing. “I didn’t say that! I don’t think you’re at all saintly. There’re still innumerable things I shan’t forgive you, but I did wrong you over this one thing, and I had no right to accuse or even suspect you.”
“‘There’s ne’er a villain dwelling in all Denmark / But he’s an arrant knave.’ You had every right, brown hen,” he said lightly. “I was a likely enough rogue. This apology is entirely unnecessary, since I myself allowed you to continue your suspicions. And I had already shown you my true colors the very first time we met, when you found me drunk, maudlin, and totally irresponsible.”
Eleanor wouldn’t allow herself to think about how she had felt when he first kissed her, nor the passion that had flared between them at Deerfield. If she did, she’d never get through this.
“Why did you ask me about blackmail at the Three Feathers?” she asked, instead.
“As an idle amusement, of course.”
“You mean you can’t tell me the truth. Very well, it’s none of my business. I suppose it’s to do with Manton Barnes.”
Lee pulled up his horse. “Now, how the devil did you hear about him?”
“Walter told me he was a friend of yours who died in an accident and that’s why you were drinking at the inn. I’m sorry. I thought perhaps his death was connected to all this, but I had no right at all to mention it, and unless you forget I did so this instant, I’ll have to apologize for that, too.”
Rogue's Reward Page 12
