The only problem was that she had no idea if the fellow was even still alive.
* * *
The message from Mr. Campbell arrived the next day. Eleanor unfolded the paper, which was clearly and correctly addressed on the outside to Lady Eleanor Acton, Acton House, Park Lane. Inside it was short and to the point, and she could almost imagine one violet eye half-closed in a wink:
“By the Curzon Gate. Wednesday morning at ten. L.C.”
* * *
Wednesday morning dawned bright and warm. The girls walked arm in arm to the park. It was not the innocent walk that Lady Augusta assumed, for Diana very soon spied a closed carriage waiting at the corner by the Curzon Gate.
“Oh, look!” she whispered. “It’s Lee’s man.”
“It is?” Eleanor replied. “Then he’s waiting for us, silly. Come on!”
The footman helped them into the dark interior. Five minutes later, they were being shown into an elegant set of rooms where Walter eagerly awaited his beloved.
“Welcome to my humble lodgings, Lady Eleanor,” Mr. Campbell said with a grave bow.
Eleanor looked around with only the slightest dismay. If they were seen entering or leaving, it was almost unexceptionable that a lady should visit her half-brother, even if he did keep bachelor apartments. That Lady Augusta wouldn’t see it that way, however, accounted for the discreet carriage and the careful servants.
Immediately, Diana sat beside Walter and he took her hands.
“Perhaps it will be politic to leave them?” Mr. Campbell asked Eleanor. “Poor Mr. Downe loses all faculty for polite conversation when in the presence of my sister, or even when thinking about her. Love makes people so tiresome.” He gave her a wicked grin. “I have a very fine library here. You have an interest in libraries, do you not?”
Eleanor refused to be fazed by the reference. “I should be very happy to admire your books, Mr. Campbell, but may I trust your manners?”
“Of course. You refer to my disgraceful behavior at Deerfield? Would you believe it was only a moment of madness, or would you prefer to think I wanted to make my wicked point? Either way, I would never dare kiss a lady when Shakespeare, Milton, Bunyan, and Chaucer were in the room, not to mention any number of medieval saints and scholars. Their dry disapproval robs even me of nefarious intent. Come, you are quite safe and you should see my collection.”
She followed him out of the room and into the library.
Instantly, Eleanor was enchanted. From floor to ceiling, on every wall and in rank after rank of freestanding cases, were books. It didn’t take very long to realize that many of them were of remarkable antiquity and presumably extremely valuable, but Eleanor was more enthralled by the sheer beauty of the volumes that Mr. Campbell began to take down to show her.
He laid a large vellum tome on the table in the center of the room and unclasped the metal hasps that held it shut. Before he began carefully to turn the pages, he pulled on a pair of fine white cotton gloves to protect the ancient parchment. The action only drew Eleanor’s attention to the elegance of his hands. Beneath his gentle touch, the pages revealed breathtaking illuminations in rich blue and red and gold. Something about the deft and tender way he touched them made Eleanor’s heart catch in her throat. It was the caress he might give a lover, she thought blindly. Can he tell that it makes my pulse race just to stand next to him like this? But then, that was the way all girls felt during their first crush, wasn’t it?
“You really do love these books,” she said after a while.
He glanced at her and smiled. “Of course. You find that odd, don’t you? I wonder why? Because it seems strange that I haven’t sold this collection to support my dissolute career? And you find that even odder, because you believe me incapable of loving anything, perhaps?”
Eleanor couldn’t look up at him. She let her eyes feast instead on a tiny vine that trailed around an entire page of the manuscript. Every leaf was perfect.
“I wouldn’t deign to offer an opinion of your character,” she said quietly.
And then she had to glance up when he laughed, even if the sight of his smile turned her limbs into water.
“Then you are in a particularly reticent mood,” he said. “I can’t remember you being too shy to offer your judgment of me before today.”
“Well, then, I can only have become even less concerned,” she said.
“And I am properly put in my place. You realize, of course, the indifference of a lady I have kissed is the most terrible insult imaginable to my pride?”
“Fiddlesticks, Mr. Campbell! Since I’m sure you bestow your attentions in a purely random manner, it can hardly matter, can it?”
He closed the book and carried it carefully to its case. “Ah, brown hen, it’s a sorry thing to be a rake. You will choose your acquaintances more carefully in the future, won’t you?”
Eleanor pretended not to hear him. Instead, she was looking about with a new and dreadful suspicion. This collection was indeed immensely valuable. In which case, how had he acquired it? An officer’s pay and the proceeds of his success at the tables might be enough to keep him in horses and send a little extra down to Hawksley to Frank Garth, but it could never have purchased the most famous book collection in London.
Had her mother been wrong? Was he the blackmailer, after all? Yet Lady Acton had said that Sir Robert had told her the villain’s true identity and that it hadn’t been Leander Campbell. She could hardly doubt that. When he left for Belgium and then India, as her brother had said he intended, it would no longer matter, she supposed.
“Richard told me you might live abroad some day,” she said as casually as she was able. “What will you do with all this when you leave?”
“It could go into storage, of course, for I want to think that these volumes await my eventual return. But scholars should continue to have access to them. I intend to put the more valuable and ancient books out on loan to a museum.”
He was quite serious. Eleanor gazed at him as he moved through the room. His lean hands rested for a moment on a row of spines. The dim light softened his dark hair to a shadow. She felt the most disturbing rush of desire. How could she have thought that he could forget all honor and sink to blackmail, simply because he so loved to buy books? It wasn’t possible. Yet he was still a rogue.
She could make no sense out of it at all. All that was left was the most insistent wish that everything had turned out differently.
She is sick with longing, he had said about Diana. It’s known as love.
* * *
Lee watched from the window as his sister and her friend climbed back into his carriage.
Walter Downe took up his hat and cane. “I owe you my sincerest gratitude for arranging this meeting, and you have it,” he said. “But I’ll be damned if I want to hang about and be victim to your dashed odd mood and that sarcastic tongue.”
“Indeed, you had better go, my friend,” Lee replied gently. “Otherwise you’ll no doubt be the recipient of several unnecessarily wanton remarks about your feelings for Diana.”
The door slammed shut.
Lee cursed silently as Eleanor looked up one last time toward his window, and the sun caught her profile. Then he spun about and strode back to the library. Very deliberately, he took down the vellum he had shown Eleanor and kissed the cover. Whether it was in benediction or farewell was impossible to say.
And so Leander Campbell was left to his thoughts.
* * *
As Eleanor was left to hers. Once again she thought through everything she knew and was convinced anew that her mother couldn’t be mistaken. Whatever else he might be, Leander Campbell was not the blackmailer. And for Diana’s sake, she would see him again whatever it did to her own composure.
The next note came the following morning.
“Vauxhall Gardens. Saturday evening at nine. L. C.”
Chapter 12
Lady Acton expressed no surprise at her daughter’s sudden desire to see the famous
gardens. Diana, of course, knowing what was planned, longed to go. Lady Augusta, however, didn’t think it quite suitable unless the girls were properly chaperoned. Yet she was afraid her own sensibilities and the dignity due her station would preclude her from attending.
“Vauxhall Gardens is becoming far too popular. All manner of City men are taking their wives and daughters to such places these days, I hear. Persons of real refinement will soon shun it.”
“Then I shall take them,” Lady Acton said. “You were not so fine in your taste last summer, Augusta, when you accompanied our party to Vauxhall yourself. Major Crabtree escorted us, and Viscount Jasper and Mr. John Mallard were with us, as well. Miss Blanche Harrison suddenly joined our party, white as a sheet. Surely you remember?”
“Yes, I do, Felicity. As I recall, the result was a thorough soaking for all concerned. When the weather is so unsettled, it cannot be prudent to seek amusement outdoors.”
“Lord Ranking will no doubt join our party,” Lady Acton said. “You cannot object if he escorts Diana, surely?”
Eleanor looked at her mother with dismay, but if Ranking’s presence was necessary to get Lady Augusta’s permission for Diana to come with them, she would have to accept it.
“Of course, as son of the Duke of Maybury, Lord Ranking lends consequence to any situation. Diana may go if she wishes, but I hope you will understand if I do not attend.”
Lady Acton ignored the insult and laughed.
“How very sorry I am to hear it,” she said wickedly. “We shall have a dull evening without you.”
* * *
Lord Ranking, it seemed, was to be their only male escort, and to Eleanor’s relief, Lady Acton insisted he take her arm and allow the girls to follow behind them. The heir to the Duke of Maybury, however, could not relax.
“I am very afraid it may rain, Countess,” he said to Lady Acton. “I cannot abide the least exposure to rain.”
“Oh, nonsense! I think the night augers very fine. Let us take a seat here under this canopy, if you are worried.” Then she laughed aloud. “Why, how very odd and unexpected! I do believe that’s Mr. Downe and Mr. Campbell.”
The countess waved to the young gentlemen and winked privately at Eleanor.
At which point Eleanor realized that her mother had plans of her own, and was by no means averse to aiding Diana’s courtship with Walter, if for no other reason than to annoy Lady Augusta.
It wasn’t surprising, therefore, that within fifteen minutes Eleanor and Diana were walking with Mr. Campbell and Walter Feveril Downe along a tree-lined pathway toward the bandstand, leaving Lord Ranking fretting about the night air and how it might affect his lungs, much to the wicked delight of Lady Acton.
“Your plan succeeds, Lady Eleanor,” Mr. Campbell said. “My sister is once again blissfully enjoying the private company of her beloved. Unfortunately, you have overlooked one small drawback to this conspiracy.”
“Which is?”
Eleanor walked stiffly beside him, stifling the longing to take his arm and lean into him, as Diana was doing with Walter ahead of them.
“That you have to put up with me, of course, and there’s no telling how disgraceful I might become.”
She glanced up at him. He seemed to be deliberately baiting her. “I’ll endeavor to stand it,” she replied acidly. “We are only here for Diana’s sake, after all.”
“‘For some must watch, while some must sleep; / So runs the world away—’”
She would not let him get away with it any longer. “I think you do more than watch and sleep, though, don’t you, Mr. Campbell? I know you fought in the Peninsula. My brother told me.”
“Did he?” He laughed and the bitter edge to his voice dropped away. “Your brother is a good man, brown hen. He sees only the best in those around him.”
“Richard is more than that; he’s a reformer. If you claimed your birthright and became earl, you could help him do a lot of good. I don’t know that Diana would care, as long as she could marry Walter. If he loves her, he’ll take her even if she is illegitimate.”
“You are full of brave plans to see Diana wed, aren’t you? Even to declaring her a bastard? What of my stepmother?”
Eleanor hesitated. Why should she want him to let the world know his real birth? Did she somehow think that if he could be shown to be an earl’s rightful heir, then he couldn’t have been capable of wickedness?
“Yes, I know, but Lady Augusta is a horrid dragon of a woman.”
Lee stopped and turned to her. “A cruel deed is a cruel deed, whether done to the wicked or the good, don’t you think? It’s not by the character of the victim that we judge the perpetrator.”
“And have you never done anything cruel, Mr. Campbell?”
“Too many times and sometimes deliberately, when the occasion warranted. And so have you, though unwittingly.”
Eleanor gazed up at his face. She couldn’t read his expression, but her heart thudded wildly in her breast. Violet lights danced between his dark lashes as he smiled down at her.
“Unwittingly?” she repeated. “How?”
“It’s cruel for you to have such eyes, brown hen. And to be so very tempting to touch.”
“I’m not in the least tempting,” she said, choking.
He laughed. “Don’t you think you should let me be the judge of that?”
He began to guide her away from the public path into a little grove of trees. The light from several lanterns scattered like drops of water across the ground. Somewhere in the distance the band was playing the tune of a pretty popular song. Eleanor knew some of the words: “Oh, don’t deceive me. / Oh, never leave me. / How could you use a poor maiden so?”
They were entirely shielded from anyone passing by. She knew what was going to happen. She knew she ought to refuse. Instead she allowed him to touch her cheek, before gently sliding his long fingers into her hair. Delicate, delicious shivers of heat ran over her skin. He studied her face for a moment, then he smiled.
She smiled back, feeling a little tremulous.
“For old times’ sake, Eleanor,” he said softly, bending his head and taking her mouth with his.
The kiss deepened, lovely, both tender and passionate. She clung to him, drowning in sensation. More than anything, she wanted this moment to go on forever, but he released her and stepped back.
“You are the memory of England I shall take with me,” he said. “And all the guilt of using you so selfishly is mine. Marry for love, Lady Eleanor.”
“That’s what Helena said to me,” she replied shakily. “Because she’s lucky enough to have been found by Richard. You know it’s impossible advice.”
“Is it?”
She gathered her courage. “Don’t you think Lord Ranking would be a perfect match for me?”
“Unless you swear this instant that you’d rather die an old maid, I shan’t be able to go.”
Her heart stuck in her throat. “Go? To India?”
“No, to Belgium where our troops assemble. Napoleon gathers an army in Paris. Wellington and the Allies can’t attack France before July, but Boney may move first. If he does, I must be there. I’ve purchased a commission and I go to Brussels next week. There’s a great deal that I leave unfinished behind me, but I can’t help that. In the meantime, it’s traditional for a soldier to steal what kisses he may.”
So Richard’s prediction that he would rejoin Wellington was coming true immediately. She couldn’t bear it.
“From any girl who crosses his path, I suppose,” she said blindly.
“No, only from those who cross swords with him. Now, we had better catch up with my sister and her swain before I decide I need another keepsake.”
He took her hand in his and tucked it into his elbow. Eleanor walked with him back onto the public path. He was leaving to join the army. What had Richard said? There will be another terrible battle, I’m afraid.
What if Leander Campbell was killed? And even if he survived the inevitable fight wi
th Napoleon, he was going to spend the rest of his days in India. So it had been a farewell kiss. Dread sunk into her heart and turned it to ice.
“So you leave Diana and Walter to their own devices?”
“Now your mother seems to have become a willing conspirator, Lady Augusta’s cause is doomed. There’s nothing more I can do, anyway. They’ll wait for each other. Diana may pine, but she’ll not give in. I predict my sister will be Mrs. Feveril Downe within the year. Meanwhile, I have duties to my country.”
“Don’t you have other responsibilities in England?”
His face looked bleak. “I thought I did, but they have come to naught.”
Eleanor said nothing. It wasn’t her place to pry.
Yet he went on, “I made a promise to myself when my friend Manton Barnes died, but I’m going to break it.”
“What kind of promise?”
He smiled. “One of pride, perhaps, or revenge. I apparently underestimated my opponent, the man who blackmailed your mother. I still don’t know his identity.”
There was no question he was telling the truth. Eleanor stopped, forcing him to halt also.
“But you got the letters back—”
“Not directly from him. Sir Robert had already retrieved them.”
“My mother knows who he is, too. Major Crabtree told her.”
“Lady Acton?” He laughed. “Why didn’t I think to ask her? And why do I think she would never tell me? Especially now that a dangerous rake such as myself has taken the liberty to kiss her brown-eyed daughter, more than once.”
“She would think that it’s valuable experience for me, and since I have a sound head on my shoulders, I won’t refine too much upon it,” Eleanor said desperately.
“A very sensible attitude! I like your mother, brown hen.”
“Everybody does.” Eleanor was vainly trying to make sense of this whole evening. “But she likes you, which is more rare.”
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