Billingham held up both hands, palms out, in mock denial. “Not me!”
His lady did not seem to wish for the honor, either. “I’m far too indolent for that kind of position.”
“You can say that, when this room is so beautifully arranged?” Matilda said. She gazed around. “I see your little touches everywhere.”
“Shh.” Her ladyship moved closer, confidingly. “Don’t let out my secret.”
As they were laughing, Delphi felt a presence at her elbow. “Lady Delphi, I’m so glad to see you here,” said Lord Joshua Stuart.
Pleased, Delphi turned to greet her friend. And, if Matilda was to be believed, her suitor. She could not admit to that. He sent the occasional small gift to her, it was true, but never without sending something for Matilda also, and his gifts were not the usual fare of suitors. While he might give Matilda flowers, Delphi was more likely to receive a set of bound charcoal sticks, or a book on the Roman Emperors.
“Lord Joshua!”
“Lady Delphi.” He performed an elaborate bow, and rose, laughing. She had teased him with his ability to bow recently, saying that he never added flourishes. This time he flourished plenty.
She bobbed a curtsey. “Well, now you put me to shame.”
Lord Joshua Stuart, the younger brother of the Duke of Beauchamp, was amusing and confident. So unlike his much older brother, that he chose to live abroad rather than confront him at regular intervals. “Some families live more happily apart,” he’d told her once, “and we are definitely one of those.”
Delphi, who’d lived closely with her sisters and brother until recently, could not imagine that. Since her mother had died giving birth to the triplets of which Delphi was one, she had never known parental devotion, but her brother, Gerald, had more than made up for it. She loved him as much as Lord Joshua disliked his own brother.
Lord Joshua, a handsome man in his mid-thirties, slender and fashionable, proved undemanding, easy company. He never over-exercised his intelligence, but he never insulted hers, either, having the facility to rise to the level of conversation required. Delphi admired that. More than once she’d found herself holding out on the merits of Marcus Aurelius, coming back to find the company staring at her in incomprehension, or just bored. She had forced herself not to do that, although she loved to share her passion with people who felt the same way. There were not many of those.
Lord Joshua held out his hand in invitation. “Will you walk with me? I believe I know where to find an excellent white wine, which I know you prefer to champagne.”
“You know how to attract a woman,” Delphi admitted. Yes, she found champagne too harsh for her taste. A smooth, delicate white wine was much more her style.
His lordship tucked her hand under his arm. “I live to please,” he murmured, and after Matilda nodded her permission, they walked away.
The large room was already full, even though the ball had been going for barely an hour. The habit of arriving late had become ridiculous in some quarters, but Lady Billingham did not aspire to the fashionable crush, and disallowed guests once she considered her rooms full. So her guests arrived in plenty of time.
“Besides,” he added, “I am determined to claim the first dance with you, as well as one later on, so I will have to keep you with me.”
“I’m hardly in great demand,” Delphi said, although she had not sat in the corner with the unwanted misses for a long time now. “But I cannot complain. I wouldn’t enjoy being the center of attention. I dislike it exceedingly.”
“You have any number of suitors,” Lord Joshua said, bowing his head to an acquaintance, but not stopping to talk to him, “including me.”
Delphi laughed. “Indeed, sir, and I thought you a perpetual bachelor! Indeed, when we first arrived in Rome last May, you assured me you would never marry, if only to spite your brother!”
He had said that, and shocked Delphi, but he had explained. “Back then, I did not want to provide the dukedom with an heir, as my brother demanded. I saw no reason to oblige my brother, or follow his orders. You know he told me that his wife stubbornly continued to live, despite only giving him two daughters.”
“I remember.”
“Matters have changed. His poor wife died five years ago.”
“I know,” said Delphi, with feeling. The duke had courted her, until she informed him that a man in his mid-seventies was not what she had in mind for a husband.
“He found a wife.”
“He did?” She almost stopped walking.
“One much younger than him. Do you know Lady Elizabeth Askew?”
“What?”
Now she did stop, and turned to face him. The blood rushed from her head, leaving her cold and slightly faint.
“So you do know her. I met her in London on my last visit, five years ago. She was astonishingly beautiful.” He sounded vaguely absent, as if thinking of past times. “Indeed, a match was mooted between us, but her father would not allow the match. At that time, I was entirely dependent on my brother’s charity, you see. Matters are different now, but we have both moved on with our lives.”
That came as a surprise to Delphi, but he did not appear particularly perturbed about the marriage of his old flame to his brother. True, his smile had tightened a little, but perhaps that was because he was thinking of his brother, not of Lady Elizabeth.
“I see,” said Delphi faintly.
“Are you quite well, my dear? Should we forget the dance and find a place to sit?”
“No.” She recovered some of her composure. Enough to laugh lightly and tuck her hand back through his arm. She tugged him and they started walking again. “It’s just that I didn’t expect to hear of her here.”
“Why is that?” Lord Joshua demanded.
Five years ago, the Dersinghams were living in Bunhill Row, leading their own quiet lives well away from fashionable society. Lord Joshua would know nothing of their history with Lady Elizabeth Askew.
“She was betrothed to the Earl of Carbrooke’s oldest son. Then the earl and his two sons were killed in an accident and the title came unexpectedly to my brother, Gerald.”
“I heard that was how your brother came to the title. I must say, you’ve coped with it very well. His estate prospers, I understand.”
“Yes, it does. Lady Elizabeth assumed she was part of the inheritance, gaining Gerald as her right. When Gerald disabused her of that idea, she set herself against us. I’m sorry to tell you, especially as she is your new sister-in-law, but she made our lives very difficult for a while. Put her people against ours. But then Lady Comyn kindly took us under her wing, and we were saved.”
He squeezed her hand gently. “I would say it was your own natures that advanced you in London society. If your sisters and brother are anything like you, society wouldn’t resist you for long. And your sisters married dukes.” He paused, but continued their slow, steady walk. “Would marrying the brother of a duke, who looks likely to lose his position of heir presumptive, be stepping down?”
“Not if I loved him,” she said impulsively.
A lady should not admit to love, and she should certainly not have it as an expectation for marriage. Perhaps that was why she did. She had always been contrary.
Then what he had said hit her. “You?”
He lifted a brow. “Perhaps. I should like you to consider the possibility. But we have time, do we not? Enough to get to know each other.”
She flicked out her fan with her free hand, and plied it vigorously. The room seemed strangely airless. “I do value your friendship.”
“Then we will leave it at that for now.” He patted her hand. “And the quartet is striking up. It’s time for our dance.”
Chapter Four
The next morning, Delphi waited for the governess to bring her charges down to the hall. Margery had already arrived, but Annabella had lagged behind, and Miss Cornwell had to go back upstairs to find her.
Delphi had her leather folder tucked under her ar
m. Today, she had dressed somewhat better than yesterday, since they were to travel in a veritable procession with two burly, liveried footmen to attend them.
Although she’d spent much of last night awake, she wouldn’t admit to it. Nor would she allow thoughts of the Duke of Kilsyth to disturb her any longer. Not one more minute. Even less Lord Joshua Stuart. A man who made her heart beat faster, and a suitor for her hand. Too bad they were not the same person. Lord Joshua would make a comfortable, amusing husband, and she did not find him unattractive. She could love him in time, the kind of gentle love that many couples enjoyed, one that matured and mellowed with time. And she would live in Rome. What more did she want?
Adam. That was what. Despite her determination to avenge herself on him, despite the shock of finding him gone from London overnight, and not a word of explanation, her body still yearned for him. When he left a room, the light went with him.
Well, she would have to forget him, that was all. If she married Lord Joshua, she would become Lady Elizabeth’s—now the Duchess of Beauchamp—sister-in-law. That would not be pleasant, but they would not meet often, especially considering Lord Joshua’s enmity towards his brother.
She’d go to the column and immerse herself in her studies. Nothing had ever disturbed her like that before, nothing and no one.
The door to the duke’s study opened. “May I have a word please, Delphi?”
If he was about to warn her not to go off on her own, she would keep her temper and reassure him. After all, he only wanted to ensure her safety.
She followed the duke into his study. He motioned to a comfortable chair set before his handsome mahogany desk, and then took his own seat behind it. He studied her, his boldly handsome face grave, his mouth set in a straight line. Delphi fidgeted.
He spoke. “I confess, I did not know how I should approach you. Even before I met Matilda and the rest of you, I’d heard of the Dersingham women and their independence of thought. Now that I’ve met you all, I know that to be true.” Leaning his elbows on the desk, he folded his hands together. “So let me be frank. Until I discover what the Duke of Kilsyth is up to, I want to keep him at arm’s length.”
“What?” Delphi blinked. “What did you say?”
“Kilsyth. I don’t trust him.”
Anger rose. She swallowed it down. “Kilsyth moves in the highest circles. He’s close friends with my sisters’ husbands. He attends court.”
She paused when she said it. She still found difficulty in believing Dorcas had married the Duke of Blackridge. In the spring, just before Delphi left the country, she’d called him a lout, unfeeling. Only last week, they’d heard that Dorcas was his new duchess. Delphi was still digesting that information. Now this nonsense.
“Explain,” she demanded.
He sighed and picked up a piece of paper from his desk. A note, folded like a letter but without a seal or significant grubbiness on the outside that would indicate it had come a long way.
“I got this half an hour ago.” He waved it at her. “A letter from a trusted agent.”
“Agent?”
“It comes with my new position as attaché. This person informs me that, yesterday, the Duke of Kilsyth bowed before the king in exile. Stuart promised him a private audience. That makes him a suspected traitor.”
If Trensom had told her that Kilsyth had dressed in women’s clothing and danced on top of Trajan’s Column, she couldn’t have been more shocked. “What are you talking about?”
He heaved another sigh, from the depths of his being. “His father betrayed the king, and now the son is now doing the same. That’s what everybody is saying. As the representative of the Crown, I can’t associate with him, or allow anyone else in this house to do so until I know more. He cannot visit us, nor we him.”
Delphi listened, aghast. “Why would he do such a thing? Kilsyth worked like a dog to restore his family’s fortunes. He’s succeeded so well that he’s reputed to be one of the richest men in the whole of Great Britain. He turned his back on the Stuarts. Everybody knows that.”
“Everybody does not know it here.”
“If you shun him, everyone will label him a traitor, without evidence.”
“I cannot help that. He should have thought of that earlier. I cannot fathom why you would want to visit him after the way he treated you.”
“I only want justice! What if I saw Kilsyth anyway?”
“You are over age and my guest rather than my charge. I cannot stop you. But if you do, and my suspicions are correct, I would have to make arrangements for you to return home.”
“Where is the proof?”
He flicked the letter. “This. His first significant action after arriving in Rome was to attend the Stuart court. He came from Germany, where The Young Pretender has a residence.”
“Everybody goes to the Stuart court.”
“Not everybody treats the Stuart as the true king and pledges his allegiance.”
She had no cause to love Adam, but that sounded so unlike him. “Does he not have the right to reply to these rumors?”
“He does. But until then, I’m warning you to be cautious. Today, I will collect more information, go about the city, listen to what people are saying. Then I’ll make my final decision.”
Her blood ran as cold as his voice. “What would it mean for him?”
Trensom shrugged. “If he offers his loyalty to the Stuarts, as his father did? Banishment, the loss of his title. King George will probably grant his family a small pension if they undertake not to see Kilsyth again. They may choose to join him, if they wish. For now, remember this; you cannot stay in this house and associate with a traitor. I will not be disobeyed, Delphi.”
With all the dignity she could muster, simmering with fury, Delphi got to her feet. “Thank you for telling me. I’m disappointed in you, Trensom. I had expected better. You listen to wild rumors, and you are suddenly his enemy? He has worked all his life to restore his fortune, to provide for his family. Why should he throw that away now? And for what? The Stuarts will never rule in London again, everybody knows that. Is it like him, do you suppose, to give himself over to a lost cause?”
Trensom sighed. “I said if. I won’t make any move without incontrovertible proof. But it if is so, then we cannot see him.”
The shuffling of feet and the sound of Miss Cornwell admonishing her charges reminded Delphi of her obligations. “I must go.”
As she turned and put her hand on the door, he said, “Stay away from him.”
That was enough for her. She would not let Adam be disparaged like this. The Dersinghams had been almost destroyed by gossip. She wouldn’t let it happen to someone else.
Outside, someone ran down the stairs. Delphi made a fuss getting to her feet and shaking out her skirts. While Trensom came around the desk to help her, she palmed the card from his desk, just leaned forward slightly and whisked it away. The Duke of Kilsyth’s calling card. She’d seen him give it to Trensom yesterday after he’d scrawled his new Rome direction on the back.
As she left the study and took her portfolio from a waiting footman, her agile mind filled with schemes.
That night in Greenwich, Adam had told her how he’d faced society after his father had died at Culloden. “If he had not been killed,” he’d said, lifting his wineglass and studying the contents against the candlelight, “I would be a mere Mr. Glinn, a Scottish gentleman of modest means, living in exile. I decided not to do that. Why offer loyalty to someone who doesn’t offer it back?”
She would not believe he had turned his coat until she heard it from his own lips. And she would.
She gave Miss Cornwell an abstracted smile, and followed her and her two chattering charges out of the house. The two footmen followed them.
“Such a relief to feel a breeze on one’s face!” Miss Cornwell declared.
Delphi nodded absently. Miss Cornwell, a tall, elegant woman, had come to the duke with the highest references, having tutored one of the royal p
rinces in the past. Clearly Delphi could not ask her to help her see the Duke of Kilsyth.
Delphi answered Miss Cornwell’s polite comments, even managing a smile or two. By the time they arrived at Trajan’s Column, Delphi had retained her sangfroid, at least on the outside. Inside, she was steaming.
To have Kilsyth rejected so callously turned her breakfast to boiling oil in her stomach. She would not, she absolutely refused to cast him off in that way. Trensom wanted her to keep her distance on a mere rumor, nothing more than hearsay? No and no again. She would ask Kilsyth.
Yes, she planned her personal revenge, but one thing was nothing like the other. She planned a little humiliation to pay him back for what he’d made her go through. She did not wish to ruin him forever.
As Miss Cornwell took the girls on a short walk—always keeping Delphi in her sights—Delphi drew, and schemed. A quick glance at the calling card told her he lived quite close by. Since most of the British in Rome lived in the same district, that did not come as a surprise to her.
After she’d outlined one of the figures in the procession marching up the column, Delphi found a little perspective, and not in the bas-reliefs.
So she made her plans and, for once, put only half her mind to her studies. In fact, if someone had quizzed her what she had studied that morning, she’d have been hard put to tell them.
Her mind teemed with plans, but eventually she went with the simplest one.
An hour after they’d arrived, Miss Cornwell announced she was taking the girls back. “We must go somewhere else tomorrow,” she said. “I know you are devoted to this…” she swept her hand out in a dismissive gesture… “but Rome has plenty of other relics for you to admire.”
“Indeed,” Delphi said. She touched the bow under her chin. “You have the right of it, Miss Cornwell. We will examine the guides tonight.”
Or Miss Cornwell could. If her plan went awry, she might well be packing her bags tomorrow.
A Whisper of Treason Page 4
