by Anne Ashley
His lordship remained silent while a waiter deposited a bottle and glasses on the table. ‘I must confess I’m somewhat surprised to find you’re continuing with this, Hugo,’ he went on, the instant the waiter had moved away. His smile was distinctly crooked. ‘You say you’re certain Miss Harrington had no hand in the lady’s demise. I would have imagined you’d have had far more important and—er—personal matters occupying your thoughts at the present time.’
Hugo was in no doubt where his friend’s conversation was leading and his smile in response, though equally crooked, was distinctly rueful. ‘If I were to tell you that Ruth’s never long or very far from my thoughts nowadays, you might appreciate the state of my own mind and feelings in the matter now. I no longer harbour any doubts,’ he revealed. ‘But it isn’t so simple, Luke. There are certain—er—unforeseen complications developing, so I’ve yet to declare myself.’
‘Away with you!’ his lordship exclaimed disparagingly. ‘Faint heart...etcetera. You’ll never get anywhere if you don’t let the girl know your affections are engaged. What’s needed is action, not all this fiddle-faddling around! How’s the girl supposed to know how you feel if you don’t tell her outright that you’re smitten?’
‘Upon my word!’ Hugo returned in a flash. ‘That’s mighty rich coming from you, I must say! Here sits the man who took almost six months to consummate his own marriage to one of the loveliest women who ever drew breath! If that’s not dragging one’s feet—if one might describe it so—then I don’t know what is!’
The Viscount glanced about him in some alarm. ‘For pity’s sake, man, keep your voice down! You don’t know who might be listening. I revealed that in the strictest confidence. There were...unusual circumstances, as well you know.’
‘Just as there are in my own relationship with Ruth. And I don’t intend to do anything to jeopardise our blossoming...friendship, not yet a while.’
Hugo ran a hand through his hair, not attempting to conceal his puzzlement and deep concern. ‘You don’t realise, Luke, the isolated life she was obliged to endure, when what she should have been doing was socialising, going to parties...meeting prospective husbands. And I know I ought to grant her that opportunity. Apart from that, the time isn’t right for a declaration. There’s something troubling her, troubling her about me... I sense it. Yet I’m not yet sure just what her concerns might be, or where they’ve sprung from. It might be that she’s just wary about taking the matrimonial plunge. Which is understandable in the circumstances.’ His frown deepened. ‘Yet, I just sense there’s something...’
‘Well, all I can say is I hope your patience holds out,’ the Viscount returned bluntly. ‘Mine wouldn’t, that I do know, not a second time.’
His lordship’s attention was then caught by a new arrival, a confirmed old bachelor who had resided in town for a great many years. He beckoned the worthy over, convinced he might be of help in Hugo’s endeavours.
‘Carlisle, old fellow, good to see you!’ his lordship declared, as the elderly gentleman joined them at the table. ‘I don’t know whether you’re acquainted with my friend here, Colonel Prentiss?’
A myopic gaze was then fixed in Hugo’s direction. ‘Prentiss...? Not one of the Hampshire Prentisses, are you, m’boy? Oh, in that case I knew your father well,’ the new arrival revealed, after Hugo’s nod in response. ‘Fine man! One of the best. And you’ve a great look of him, if I may say so.’
Hugo didn’t object in the least. What he didn’t wish to do, however, was dwell on his own lineage if he could possibly avoid it. The Viscount would not have caught the elderly bachelor’s attention without good reason. Seemingly his lordship supposed Lord Carlisle just might be able to shed some light on the mystery surrounding the death of a certain notorious baronet.
‘As you say, sir, my sire was a fine man. And one who, moreover, was blessed, if one may describe it so, to die in his own bed, and of natural causes, unlike so many others in recent years,’ Hugo began artfully, in the hope of steering the conversation in more profitable lines. ‘Of course his lordship and I saw many friends killed on the battlefields in recent years. One expects that in time of war. But it’s surprising how many lose their lives in decidedly suspicious circumstances.’
His frown of puzzlement was masterly. ‘Now, who was it, Luke, we were talking about only the other day—the fellow found dead on a beach somewhere, when he should have been visiting friends?’
His lordship’s thoughtful pose was no less convincing. ‘Yes, who the deuce was it...? My uncle knew him, said something about him being on the Sussex coast, not too far from Brighton...Hilliard, George Hilliard.’
‘By Jove, you’re right!’ Lord Carlisle confirmed, much to Hugo’s intense satisfaction. ‘I knew the fellow, too. Devil for the ladies, so he was. Well, we’ve all dabbled in our time, I suppose, but most of us know where to draw the line. No woman was safe around old George. He was reputed to have ruined more than one poor girl’s reputation—servants, society hostesses—all the same to old George.’
Hugo exchanged a glance with the Viscount. ‘More than likely his death wasn’t an accident,’ he suggested. ‘Must have made a few enemies in his time, most especially among those whose wives had fallen victim to his charm.’
‘Seem to remember that’s what was rumoured at the time. But I’m not so certain,’ Lord Carlisle countered. ‘He was a likeable rogue for all his philandering ways. Things might have been different if he’d married one of his own class. But he married a wealthy cit’s daughter who didn’t know the rules. Most women of our class know to turn a blind eye to a husband’s extramarital affairs.’
‘Not all of us are inclined to stray,’ the Viscount pointed out drily.
‘Oh, no, dear boy! Wasn’t for a moment suggesting you’d do such a thing,’ the older man returned apologetically. ‘Happily married, I’m sure. Not that I’d know much about it myself, you understand, being a confirmed old bachelor. But it was generally believed that George only behaved the way he did to spite his father-in-law, who it was strongly rumoured kept a firm grasp on the purse-strings, so to speak. If George had been allowed to keep a mistress openly, he maybe wouldn’t have conducted so many liaisons behind his wife’s back. It was a commonly held belief at the time that he did keep a mistress at that place where he was found dead. What other reason could there have been for him going there, I ask you!’
‘What, indeed?’ Hugo agreed, feeling there had to have been some very good reason for the baronet to visit that coastal town.
Chapter Nine
Although Ruth had been most interested to hear what Hugo had discovered at that famous gentlemen’s club in St. James’s and, like himself, felt it had opened up several avenues not hitherto considered, she managed to thrust Sir George Hilliard’s decidedly suspicious demise to the back of her mind in order to concentrate all her efforts in assisting with Sarah’s forthcoming party.
The arrival of the master of the house provided a welcome respite from all the frantic activity, at least for a day or two. Lord Merrell Lansdown, known to all his friends as Merry, was a larger-than-life character. Although having been built very much on the same lines as Hugo, tall and well muscled, Merry, sadly, had weakened and succumbed to the finer things of life a good many years before and, as a direct result, had become increasingly portly with the advent of middle age. None the less, Ruth liked him from the first and was pleasantly relieved to discover that, contrary to many unions contracted between members of the ton, the Lansdowns’ marriage seemed a happy one, wherein both parties betrayed a genuine affection for the other.
Although Sarah’s behaviour towards her husband might have been viewed in certain quarters as somewhat unorthodox, there was absolutely nothing irregular about her attitude to holding social gatherings. She oversaw everything with meticulous attention to detail in an attempt to ensure that her party, although not to compa
re with the most lavish held during the Season, would be universally remembered as one of the most enjoyable events in the social calendar.
Naturally, Ruth couldn’t match Sarah’s expertise in organising such an affair; moreover, she wouldn’t have attempted to interfere even if this hadn’t been the case. In one aspect, though, she knew she could be of immeasurable help and didn’t hesitate to offer her services.
It was considered by the late Lady Beatrice Lindley herself that Ruth’s skill on the keyboard was matched only by her innate gift for arranging flowers. It was one way she knew she would be able to repay Sarah, at least in part for all the kindness she’d shown towards a virtual stranger. Consequently, on the day of the party, she was more than happy to be left to her own devices for several hours in a small back room.
If Sarah had experienced any qualms about designating such an important task to someone whose abilities were totally untested, she certainly never revealed the fact. Quite the contrary—she betrayed confidence by not once entering the parlour to see how things were progressing until late in the afternoon, when she threw wide the door, only to stop dead in her tracks.
‘Yes, the scent is somewhat overpowering,’ Ruth declared, after glancing over her shoulder in time to catch the almost stunned expression flicker over Sarah’s face. ‘I’ve almost finished. Just these final few blooms to place in this last vase.’
‘Breathtaking...quite breathtaking!’ Sarah at last managed to utter, after she had gazed in wonder at the two dozen-or-so arrangements of varying sizes that had been completed that day. Her eyes were suddenly lit by an impish gleam. ‘All my friends will be quite pea-green with envy. I shall gain such delight in teasing them all by saying I went to the expense of hiring a professional arranger. They’ll all be begging me to reveal the genius’s name. Though that,’ she went on, after moving forward to study the creations more closely, ‘would be doing a great disservice to you who should receive all the credit.’
‘Heavens! I don’t crave approbation. As long as you’re satisfied, that’s all that concerns me,’ Ruth assured her, only to be the recipient of a long, considering look.
‘Do you know, you and Hugo are much alike. He’s always had a tendency to undervalue his abilities and speak lightly of his achievements.’
After placing the last flower in the arrangement, Ruth acknowledged the truth of this. ‘No, neither of us is what you’d call boastful by nature.’
‘Oh, you have far more in common than just that,’ Sarah returned, after having cast a second considering glance. ‘You both much prefer the peace and quiet of the country. And speaking of Hugo,’ she continued, when she quite failed to elicit a response this time, ‘he’s just administered the most tremendous scold because I’ve monopolised you for most of the day. He also reminded me that if you don’t hurry to your room you won’t be ready in time for the pre-party dinner. I should warn you, he’s determined to have you seated beside him at the table.’
This succeeded in capturing Ruth’s attention. She knew Hugo had been out of the house for much of the day. ‘I wonder whether he’s succeeded in discovering more about the late womanising baronet whose death might be in some way linked to Lady Beatrice’s.’
‘Oh, can you not put that horrid business out of your mind entirely just for one night?’ Sarah demanded testily. ‘I want you to dance and enjoy the evening. I also want you to look your best. So hurry along now, whilst I arrange for the servants to place these beautiful creations in positions where they’ll be most admired.’
Although she didn’t delay in seeking her bedchamber, Ruth didn’t seem able to summon up the least enthusiasm for the evening ahead. She had spent far too much time on her own that day; she realised that now. Thinking mostly about Hugo, she had allowed those feelings, which she had done her utmost in the past few short weeks to keep well concealed, to come to the fore. How could she adhere to Sarah’s advice and forget her purpose in coming to the capital? To do so would leave her exposed to too much heartache, or worse. To do so just might reveal emotions to one very astute gentleman that he might not really wish to see.
* * *
Several hours later, the sight of herself dressed in a beautiful gold-coloured creation of lace and silk, and with her hair elaborately arranged in a crown of chestnut curls, quite failed to lift her spirits. How could she gain any pleasure from her reflection when she was continually plagued by the heartrending prospect of a certain pair of blue eyes regarding her while perhaps longing to see quite another lady in her place? She had to face the fact, here and now, that she might always figure in Hugo’s heart as second best. Furthermore, she must also face the possibility that she might never be able to swallow her pride sufficiently to accept such a destiny.
A knock on the bedchamber door, quickly followed by the entry of a young maid, brought a welcome distraction. ‘Begging your pardon, miss, but I were asked to bring you this.’
Ruth took the square velvet box from the outstretched hand and guessed what it contained, even before she had opened the lid to discover a pair of pearl-drop earrings, accompanied by the most beautiful pearl necklace.
She couldn’t fail to feel moved by the kindly gesture and so didn’t hesitate to request Agatha to fix the adornment, which had been fashioned to resemble a pendant, about her throat. ‘That was most kind of Sarah to lend me these,’ she declared, after donning the earrings, and the lovely necklace, the bottommost and largest pearl of which almost touched the swell of her breasts.
Her conscience then smote her and she gave herself a mental shake. The very least she could do to show her appreciation was to do her utmost to appear as if she were enjoying the evening ahead, she decided, leaving her room, only to very nearly collide with none other than the hostess herself making her way along the passage in the direction of the staircase.
‘Oh, my dear, you look lovely! Positively captivating!’ Sarah declared, before fixing her gaze on the beautiful adornments. ‘And those pearls... What I wouldn’t give to have those about my throat this evening!’
Ruth, quite naturally, was taken aback. ‘Why on earth did you loan them to me for the evening, if you wished to wear them yourself?’
It was Sarah’s turn now to appear startled. ‘But I didn’t. They’re not mine.’
‘Not yours? Then who...?’
‘You’ve a secret admirer.’ Like an excited schoolgirl, Sarah uttered a squeal of delight. ‘Now, I wonder who that can be? As if I didn’t know!’
Unlike Sarah, Ruth began to feel distinctly uneasy. ‘You don’t suppose Hugo bought them for me?’
‘Well, who else do you suppose! Unless you’ve secret admirers strewn across the capital about whom I know absolutely nothing.’
Ruth’s confusion was increasing by leaps and bounds, along with her doubts and anxieties. Was the gift a token of his sincere affection? If not, she couldn’t imagine what else it might signify. ‘You—you imagine your brother admires me?’
‘Well, of course he does! Any fool can see that you two rub along together famously. I’ve never seen him so at ease with anyone for a very long time...not since his youth and his attachment to Alicia. Why, even darling Merry, who isn’t given to noticing much as a rule, said that you two would make a remarkably handsome couple.’
The reference to Alicia had been unfortunate to say the least, bringing as it had that most besetting anxiety once again to the forefront of her mind. Not only that, Ruth also felt somewhat shaken by the way events all at once seemed to be overtaking her. Even so, she felt some response was expected. ‘Yes, we do get on very well. We—we always have, right from the first, but...’
No one could have mistaken the clear note of misgiving in her voice. ‘You do care for my brother, don’t you?’ Sarah asked, all at once sounding distinctly unsure. ‘I was convinced you were not indifferent to him.’
‘Oh, no, I’m not indiffer
ent to him.’ Ruth smiled wistfully. ‘But I think we need more time, both of us do.’ A worrying possibility then occurred to her, instantly wiping the half-smile from her face. ‘You don’t suppose he intends making an announcement this evening, do you?’ she added, the beautiful adornment resting against her chest having suddenly acquired a distinctly worrying significance—a betrothal gift perhaps?
Sarah’s amazement could not have been feigned. ‘What...without discussing the matter with you first? I very much doubt it. My brother might have a string of faults, and be infuriatingly pig-headed on occasions, but he certainly isn’t presumptuous.’
‘No, of course he isn’t.’ Ruth silently cursed herself for allowing sheer panic to override common sense. ‘I’m just being foolish, worrying too much over this party of yours, and praying the flowers won’t wilt in their vases before the evening is over.’
* * *
The explanation might have convinced Sarah that all was at it should have been, but the display of feigned gaiety Ruth tried desperately to maintain in order to conceal those heartfelt misgivings didn’t fool Sarah’s astute brother—no, not for a single second!
With all the inherent skill of a seasoned campaigner Hugo easily prised her away from the other dinner guests, once the meal was over, and guided her towards a secluded corner in the large salon where the party was being held. Once out of earshot he didn’t waste any time, either, in discovering what he wished to know.
‘Why, there’s nothing wrong,’ she refuted with all the conviction she could muster. ‘Why on earth should you imagine there is?’
‘Nice try, my angel!’ Hugo returned, totally unconvinced. ‘But might I remind you that it is your self-appointed protector you’re attempting to convince, the one who has possibly come to know you better than any other in recent weeks, and not some bumpkin newly arrived from the country. So let’s have no more prevarication.’
