by Anne Ashley
Hugo considered the simple admission for a moment, then asked, ‘Why do you suppose it was that Lady Beatrice chose to live like a virtual recluse? Now, I would be the first to admit I didn’t know her well...hardly at all, really. But my one hazy recollection is of a woman who was quite active in London society. What made her change, do you suppose?’
Ruth shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She rarely spoke of her past life. She seldom spoke about any member of her family, either. And I can never once, in the decade I lived with her, recall her mentioning her husband by name. In fact, I gained the distinct impression some years ago that she had scant regard for men. I’d even go as far as to suggest that she loathed the male sex as a whole.’
One masculine brow rose sharply. ‘Now that might prove interesting.’
‘That was one of the reasons she gave for leaving me her money,’ Ruth revealed, hardly aware she was speaking aloud, ‘said I should then be independent, should never need to marry.’
An inn servant entering to set cloths on the table for dinner instantly captured her attention. Consequently, she quite failed to see a trace of annoyance flicker over Hugo’s features for one unguarded moment.
‘I still maintain that it’s in Lady Beatrice’s past that we might discover the key to the mystery of her demise,’ he said, when they were once again alone. ‘And it’s for that reason staying with my sister could prove highly beneficial. Sally’s a sociable creature. Nothing she loves more than a good gossip. What she doesn’t know about London society isn’t worth knowing. She’ll know something about Lady Beatrice’s past life, I’m sure, or at the very least she’ll know of someone who does.
‘Furthermore,’ he went on, when the openness of her expression revealed that she was rapidly assimilating the benefits of staying with his sibling and was no longer prepared to dismiss the notion out of hand, ‘Sarah, madcap creature though she is on occasions, will be an ideal chaperon for you.’
Amenable though she always attempted to be, Ruth found herself bridling at this. ‘How many times must I remind you, sir, that I’m hardly a chit out of the schoolroom? I have no need of a chaperon.’
‘And how many times must I be forced to remind you, Miss Harrington,’ he countered with equal formality, ‘that country manners will not serve in the metropolis, where strict codes of conduct must be adhered to at all times if you’re to stand the remotest chance of being accepted into the polite world. And it’s imperative you do move in polite circles if you’re to stand the remotest chance of solving the mystery of Lady Bea’s death. I can do my bit to help, of course, but let me tell you it would create a very odd impression if I were to be seen squiring you about all the time. And the last thing I wish to do is draw undue attention to ourselves.’
Or perhaps give rise to the wrongful impression—that your feelings are engaged, Ruth couldn’t help supposing, experiencing a distinctly hollow feeling inside, but said, doing her level best to sound enthusiastic, ‘Yes, your sister would prove more suitable, I agree. But would she be willing to do so, do you suppose? The last thing in the world I should wish is to become any kind of burden to—to anyone.’
‘You could never be that,’ he assured her softly. ‘Besides which, in my sister’s last letter she vowed she was fatigued to death of her humdrum existence in the country and the catalogue of children’s ailments she’d been obliged to deal with during the past months. She assured me she was staying in the capital by herself for the first few weeks in order to recoup her strength and to bring a little excitement back into her life, after months of trifling domestic concerns.’
Hugo’s expression betrayed his own slight misgivings, even before he added, ‘As I’ve said before, Sal can be a scatty wench, but she’s not altogether indiscreet. We have little choice but to confide in her.’
Chapter Six
Although Hugo had given his assurance that his sister would be only too happy to house a total stranger, Ruth wasn’t so sure he was telling the absolute truth when she saw him exchanging a private word with both sets of post-boys the following morning, just prior to setting off on the last leg of the journey. She became increasingly certain that he was perhaps taking too much for granted where his sibling was concerned when her own carriage began to fall further and further behind, thereby allowing Hugo to arrive at the Lansdowns’ town house well in advance of her, in order, Ruth strongly suspected, to prepare his sister for the unexpected, and perhaps unwelcome, guest.
Up to a point the assumption had been correct—Hugo had every intention of having a word with his sister in private, but not for any of the reasons Ruth might have supposed. He knew his sibling well enough to be sure that she’d be only too willing to put someone up at his behest, providing, of course, the house wasn’t brimful to the attic with guests already. What he knew he couldn’t wholly rely upon was his sister’s discretion, for on rare occasions she had been known to speak without thinking.
Since her marriage to Lord Lansdown, some fifteen years before, her one burning ambition, apart from providing her husband with several healthy pledges of her affection, had been to see her favourite brother, too, enjoying a life of connubial bliss. Tirelessly she had striven to find him the ideal mate, parading a succession of what she had deemed suitable candidates for his inspection at every available opportunity.
With commendable patience Hugo had borne with his sister’s folly down the years, mainly because he had known that her interference had stemmed from the very best of motives. It had come as no very real surprise to him that Sarah had singularly failed to introduce him to a female with whom he could happily spend the rest of his life. What had come as a monstrous jolt to his equilibrium was perhaps having discovered his ideal life’s companion for himself, when he might least have expected to do so, on that bitterly cold early October afternoon, in such a remote spot!
As the carriage drew to a halt before a fashionable residence in a most sought-after part of town, Hugo was obliged to cease his musings and alighted before the post-boy could even draw down the steps. The servant who answered the front door promptly in response to his summons delivered the welcome tidings that the mistress of the house was, indeed, at home and happy to receive visitors. Then, without further ado, Hugo was shown into the sunny front parlour, where the lady of the house lounged on a chaise longue, absently flicking through the pages of the latest edition of the Ladies’ Journal, and wearing a garment he considered more suitable for the privacy of the boudoir.
‘Good gad, Sal! What the deuce are you about, donned in little more than your shift at this time of day!’
The response to this disparaging remark was an unladylike squeal of delighted surprise. The Ladies’ Journal went flying into the air a moment before Hugo found himself holding yards and yards of some bright-yellow flimsy material, while receiving his sister’s customary show of affection.
‘Oh, Hugo, darling! What on earth brings you here? Not that I care a jot! I was feeling quite ennui and was wondering how best to brighten the day. And here you are—the answer to all my prayers!’ Finely arched brows rose all at once to meet above the bridge of a decidedly tip-tilted nose. ‘And what do you mean, you wretch...in my shift? I shall have you know this is a lounging gown. All the fashionable hostesses are sporting them this Season.’
‘In that case, Sal, I should strive for a little more originality, if I were you,’ he advised with brotherly candour, while removing his arms from a waist that had sadly thickened in recent years. ‘You’re far too tall to don such fripperies. You resemble nothing so much as an oversized canary. Now, come and sit down, because I have something of importance to say to you and there isn’t much time.’
Garrulous creature that she was known to be, Sarah, Lady Lansdown, loved nothing more than unearthing a piece of salacious behaviour. Although it had to be said that her favourite brother was not wont to conduct himself in a fashion that ultimate
ly gave rise to gossip, it was unusual for him to turn up on the doorstep without advance warning. She sensed a mystery and so dutifully remained silent while she drew him towards the chaise longue and sat down beside him.
‘Oh, do tell, you infuriating creature!’ she urged, unable to curb her insatiable curiosity a moment longer, when all he did was to remain, annoyingly, staring at a spot somewhere on the floor. ‘What devilry have you been about? Not put a period to someone’s existence, have you?’
Hugo couldn’t help but smile at this. For all that she could be a scatty wench on occasions, his sister wasn’t altogether lacking perception. ‘I’ve not, Sal,’ he assured her, ‘but I very much fear someone might possibly have done just that. And I’m here to uncover who that certain someone might have been, with the help of a—er—friend.’ He reached for one of her hands and held it in his own. ‘And I want you to do me the very great kindness of putting this very special friend up here and taking every care to make this first visit to London extra special.’
‘But of course I shall! I wonder you need ask!’ Something then seemed to occur to her and she regarded him frowningly. ‘But I do not perfectly understand, Hugo. Why cannot you take care of him yourself. You’ll stay here together, surely?’
‘For the present, yes, providing you can manage to put me up as well. But it’s more important you house my...friend.’ Hugo paused for a moment while the footman who had admitted him to the house returned with refreshments, then waited until they were alone again. ‘Is Lansdown with you?’
Sarah shook her head. ‘You know how he dislikes town life. He’s in the country with the children, but has promised to join me here in time for my party at the end of the month.’
‘Better and better!’ Hugo announced, well pleased. ‘That means you can devote most of your time to your house guest, without too many distractions.’
‘Well, of course I shall! But, Hugo...’ She was still clearly perplexed. ‘I do not perfectly understand. Surely your friend would much prefer your companionship to mine. After all, there are numerous places where females are not permitted to go.’
‘Precisely!’ Hugo concurred, if anything, confounding her even more. ‘And that is where your help will be invaluable. Although she isn’t lacking intelligence or any of the social skills, she isn’t quite up to snuff when it comes to the strict codes of conduct demanded of any unmarried female residing here in the capital.’
It took a moment or two for her to digest fully what had been said, but Hugo was left in no doubt the instant she had succeeded in doing precisely that, for his hand was tossed aside, almost in disgust.
‘How—how dare you ask me—me, your own sister— to look after your...your...’
Words seemed to fail her and Hugo watched, totally unimpressed by the display of feminine outrage, as she whipped out a flimsy square of lace and proceeded to dab at her eyes. Nor was he amused by it, either. He had been given the nickname ‘The Gentle Giant’ by those who knew him well, for no one would argue that, for the most part, his disposition was amiable. Yet there was a darker side to his nature that could surface if sufficiently provoked, a side his sister had witnessed occasionally in their youth and had never forgotten.
Instinctively she edged a little away. ‘It—it’s no earthly good you glowering at me in that odious fashion, Hugo. You’ve never brought a female to my home before...well, at least not one who wasn’t less than perfectly respectable... Oh, dear,’ she finished lamely, when his steely expression, if anything, hardened.
‘And I shouldn’t dream of doing so now. Miss Harrington is a lady in every sense of the word. But if you feel yourself unable to treat her with the respect her gentility merits, then I shall find more suitable accommodation for the duration of her stay,’ and so saying Hugo rose to his feet, only to have his hand clutched once again by urgent fingers.
‘Oh, Hugo, you are quite abominable! You do misunderstand one so!’
‘I misunderstand nothing,’ he assured her. ‘And, so that you do not, I shall make it clear that Ruth is no lightskirt. She isn’t my mistress. Nor has she been any other man’s, come to that. At the risk of offending further your delicate sensibilities, I shall tell you plainly that I have experience enough to recognise a virtuous young woman when I meet one.’
‘Oh, how you do take on so!’ Sarah exclaimed, seeming all at once unequal to meeting his gaze. ‘But you must own you’ve never brought a female to my home before... Well, not one that wasn’t related to the family in some way, besides having at least five-and-fifty years in her dish.’
‘Had Ruth been such a one, I shouldn’t be seeking your assistance now.’ He gazed down at her from his towering height, his expression betraying anything but brotherly affection. ‘However, as I’ve mentioned already, if you feel yourself unequal to the task of chaperoning a gently reared female, albeit one that was obliged to make her own way in the world during the last decade, then I shall take myself off and make arrangements elsewhere.’
Throughout their childhood Sarah had never been able to withstand her favourite brother’s look of staunch disapproval. She discovered she couldn’t even do so now. ‘Oh, do sit down, Hugo, and stop glowering at me in that hateful way! I’m sure I don’t deserve it. It’s only what any respectable matron might suppose, after all,’ she went on lamely, while nervously pleating at the folds of her fashionable attire. ‘You know I shall take every care of your—your friend, if it will please you... And, of course, if I like her.’
‘Believe me, Sal, you couldn’t fail to do otherwise,’ he assured her with certainty and then re-seated himself. ‘I have much to tell you, and there isn’t much time. So do not interrupt!’
* * *
Before she had mounted the steps, the green-painted door of the fashionable town house had been thrown wide, thereby allowing Ruth and her maid prompt access to a chequered hall. As her arrival had clearly been expected, she could only suppose Hugo had achieved his objective. Think highly of him though she still did, she now knew him a good deal better, after their many days spent on the road, and could only hope he hadn’t resorted to devious stratagems where his sister was concerned in order to get his way. She didn’t doubt that he was more than capable of doing so!
For several moments, after she had been shown into a small and elegantly furnished salon overlooking the street, she very much feared that that was precisely what had occurred. Hugo rose at once to his feet and came smilingly forward to grasp her hand. Sadly, the lady who had been left seated alone on the chaise longue offered no such warm welcome. In fact, if anything, she appeared rather stunned, her jaw having dropped perceptively, as though she were having difficulty believing the evidence of her own eyes.
‘Ruth, allow me to make known to you my sister, Lady Lansdown,’ Hugo said, grasping her hand, and leading her inexorably forward, thereby allowing her little alternative. ‘Sarah, my very good friend Miss Ruth Harrington.’
The instant Hugo released his hold, Ruth tentatively held out her hand. ‘It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady.’
It seemed an age before her fingers were finally grasped, albeit briefly. Even so, the response gave her the courage to say what was at the forefront of her mind. ‘It is most kind of you to welcome me into your home. But please do not feel obliged to house a complete stranger. I am sensible of the fact that it is a great imposition, even if your brother is not.’
The simple assurance seemed to act as a miraculous restorative, immediately breaking the trance the mistress of the house appeared to have been under. ‘Oh, no...not at all! No imposition, I assure you! It’s just that you—you are not quite what I was expecting... Oh dear, I’ve said the completely wrong thing again, haven’t I, Hugo?’
Ruth looked from the sister’s look of comical dismay to the brother’s expression of exasperation and drew her own conclusions. A glint of amusement added an extra spark
le to her eyes as they remained staring up at Hugo. ‘Would I be correct in thinking your sister assumed that our association went rather deeper than—er—mere friendship? Well, I suppose it was a mistake anyone might be forgiven for making.’
She returned her gaze briefly to the lady of the house to discover features now set in a rather thoughtful expression. ‘You see, my lady, it would never have occurred to me to suppose it might be considered improper to travel to London with a gentleman who was not a close relative. Even though we did travel in separate carriages some might still consider it grossly improper. You’re right, Hugo. I do have much to learn.’
For answer he threw back his head and barked with laughter, unsure of what had amused him more—Ruth’s candidness, or his sister’s further expression of stunned disbelief.
‘I think I could do no better than to leave you two ladies alone to become better acquainted. There are one or two matters requiring my immediate attention, so do not delay luncheon on my account. I shall have something at my club and shall see you both again later.’
All at once Ruth’s amusement gave way to a surge of uncertainty and she instinctively reached out to place a gently restraining hand on the arm of the being whom she had rapidly come to trust above any other. ‘You will come back, though, won’t you, sir?’
The note of anguish was clear for anyone to hear; clear as the look of tenderness that appeared in Hugo’s eyes as he placed his hand over hers in gentle reassurance. ‘Of course I shall, and be here for as long as you have need of me.’
Sarah, who had studied the affectionate little exchange with dawning wonder, waited only until her brother had left the room before giving voice to her incredulity, ‘Well, I never would have believed it! And after all this time, too!’
She then stared again at her unexpected houseguest for several long, thoughtful moments, before declaring further, ‘Well, I must say you’re nothing like I might have expected... No, nothing like at all! But then tastes do change as one matures, I suppose.’
