He bent over to retrieve his diamond pin and the ivory-handled knife his lady rogue had dropped. His mind was racing. What could the old reprobate have done now to cause a respectable young lady to resort to such measures, and respectable she was, he was quite sure of it. He was well aware that his older brother was no angel and that his morals were so very different to his own, and perhaps the ladies grievance was justified. He vowed to get to the bottom of it and discover who she was and just why she had held him up this night.
He had three things to go on. The lady had short chestnut hair. She had a young fair-haired brother, and her name began with F. He was sure that her young brother was about to call her by her name, but had realised in the nick of time. He did not think for one moment that she was called Fee. Perhaps she was a Felicity, Faye or a Fiona. That would be more probable.
Chapter Two
‘I told you so!’
Daniel had not dared breathe a word until they had reached relative safety within the grounds of their uncle’s country mansion, Chalcotte Grange. As young as he was, he made no hesitation in admonishing his sister. ‘How could you have put yourself at such risk, and what have you achieved. Nothing!’
Sophie was frustrated. This night had not gone as she had planned. How could she have known that the Earl of Winstanley had a brother and he would be in the lane that night? Her own brother’s reproaching voice was still ringing in her ears.
‘For Lords sake, Sophie. Did you not hear him? He is a veteran of the Peninsular Wars. He makes his living by the sword. How could you think that you could beat him in a sword fight? Did the fact that he is a Colonel not sound a warning in that dull brain of yours? I have a mind to tell Uncle Jack of your exploits this night.’
Sophie turned on her brother. ‘Don’t you dare, Daniel or I will never speak to you again.’
Daniel surprised by the vehemence of her attack retracted. ‘Alright, as long as you promise not to do it again. I don’t know what would have happened if I had not been there.’
Realising her sharpness, Sophie smiled at her brother. ‘Sorry Danny and I thank you from the bottom of my heart, but Winstanley must be made to pay for his dishonesty and the harm he has done to our family.’
She had time to say no more for by this time they had crossed the rear lawns and had reached the servant’s entrance to the house. They would have to be quiet if they were not to be discovered. She put her forefinger to her lips and whispered. ‘No more conversation, Danny. I will see you at breakfast tomorrow, and remember, not a word to anyone.’
*****
The next morning Sophie was the last to enter the breakfast room. Her Uncle Jack was sitting reading the Newcastle Journal and her Aunt Caroline was opening a number of invitations she had received that morning. There was no sign of Daniel. He had finished his breakfast and was out at the stables where he spent most of his time. Her aunt looked up.
‘Ah, there you are, Sophie. I was just about to send out a search party for you. Have you recovered from your headache?’
‘Yes, thank you, Aunt,’ she replied. ‘I am only sorry that I had to drag you away from Lady Bertram’s ball last night.’
Her aunt gave a regretful sigh. ‘Yes, I cannot deny that I was rather disappointed, but at least you have your uncle’s undying gratitude.’ She turned to her husband. ‘Doesn’t she dear?’
Uncle Jack peeked his head from around the newspaper. ‘What. Hey. Oh yes, it was a sad crush. Jolly glad to escape.’
Sophie smiled to herself. She liked her Uncle Jack. He was laid back, and a kind and jolly soul who preferred riding to his hounds than the constant rounds of parties and routs. Too laid back, some people would say. Her aunt and uncle had taken them in when her father had died penniless only six months previously. They lived a simple but comfortable life with very few servants, only a housemaid, a cook and a handyman who helped her Uncle Jack with his hounds. Lady Wyndholme did her own housekeeping and they saw no need to employ a butler.
Sophie was brought back to attention by the excited chatter of her aunt who was holding an invitation in her hand.
‘Oh, how wonderful, we have all been invited to a ball at Winstanley Hall a week on Saturday. Of course, we must accept.’
Uncle Jack gave one of his usual good-natured groans, but Sophie looked aghast. ‘Oh Aunt, No! How can you accept an invitation from Lord and Lady Northcote? You know they were responsible for papa’s demise.’
Her Aunt looked up sharply. ‘Nonsense child. You forget that your dear Papa was my brother-in-law and I am well aware of his unconventional and wild ways. It was very wrong of your Papa gambling away everything he had, but it was all his own fault and you cannot go on blaming Lord Northcote.’
The fact was that her Aunt had no love for Sophie’s father. There had been a huge outcry when her sister, Elizabeth, had married Lord Trevarren because they considered him a good-for-nothing waster with undesirable gambling habits. Neither did he care a jot for the rigid rules of society. The marriage seemed to have prospered for all of that for he had the uncanny knack of making good at the very last minute. Aunt Caroline was called back from her reflections by Sophie’s protesting voice.
‘But Aunt, how can you say such a thing. Winstanley cheated!’
Her Aunt sighed patiently as it was not the first time that they had had this same conversation. ‘You cannot know that, Sophie and it is wrong of you to make accusations that you cannot prove. Lord and Lady Northcote are respected members of the community and it will do you no good to be shunning them. How many times do we have to go over this?’
Sophie argued. ‘I do know! Papa told me and I believe him!’
Sophie had enjoyed a particularly close relationship with her father. He had called her his beautiful girl and afforded her the same equality as Daniel. Her father would never have lied to her. He had told her how he had noticed a card peeping from out of Lord Northcote’s sleeve and the Earl realised that he had been caught out. He managed to shake it onto the floor where it skidded to the other end of the table before her father accused him. The party decided that it was just an unlucky accident and the dealer had dropped the card when shuffling the deck, but Lord Trevarren had known better. There was a general consensus that Winstanley had not cheated and the wager should be honoured.
Sophie was frustrated with her Aunt. ‘But he cheated, I tell you! Papa would not lie about something like that!’
Her Aunt frowned. ‘I am sure that is just what your Papa told you, but he would have said anything to avoid losing his home. My dear sister, Elizabeth, your beloved mother may have loved him but she was forever exasperated with his gambling ways. He was wild and in some ways you take after him. I can allow you some licence here at Chalcotte Grange and you are free to follow your pursuits on the estate. But, Oh Sophie, you are such an unnatural child, please do not embarrass me in public with this wild accusation.’
Sophie could not accept her aunt’s view of the matter. She loved her father. It is true that he was somewhat unconventional. He had taught her to ride, hunt, shoot, and wield a sword better than many a man, and no matter what he had done, she was her father’s daughter. She was just about to argue back when her uncle intervened. ‘Your aunt is right, Sophie. Let that be the end of it.’
Aunt Caroline took Sophie’s lack of response as acceptance and smiled encouragingly. She took her hand and squeezed it. ‘We love you, Sophie, and although we cannot give you a London season, you have a home here with us and we will do what we can to see you suitably established. Why do you think that your uncle is happy to escort you to so many parties and functions when clearly he does not enjoy them?’
Her Aunt gave a mischievous smile and continued. ‘And, I learned last night that Lord Northcote’s younger brother has returned from the Peninsular. A younger son may be just the thing for you, Sophie. He will be at the Winstanley ball. The least you can do is meet him.’
Sophie looked thunderstruck. ‘But Aunt Caroline, he must be nearly thirty!
’
Her Aunt was rather taken aback. ‘I knew him as a child. He is still a young man, Sophie. He is the same age as your cousin Sebastian and they used to play together. I did not meet him last night in the crush as we were dragged away on your account, but I am told that he was there, and he is said to have grown to be very handsome. Besides, how can you possibly know how old he is? You have yet to meet him.’
Sophie wavered. She could hardly tell her aunt of her encounter last night. He was handsome alright, but also dangerous. ‘Well… well…I don’t of course,’ she stuttered. ‘But the Earl must be at least forty, so I do not expect his brother to be so very much younger.’
Her aunt gave a knowing smile. ‘Well, there is no need to worry on that account. I happen to know that he is just seven and twenty,’ she replied. ‘Hardly an old man, I think. I will brook no argument, Sophie. You will accompany me to the Winstanley Ball. It is the least you can do after having to leave Lady Bertram’s ball last night because of your megrim.’
Sophie felt rather guilty seeing that her whole ploy had been a total waste of time and acquiesced, besides, it may give her the opportunity to do some snooping, and maybe retrieve the brooch that had belonged to her mother. And in retrieving the brooch she hoped to retrieve her fortunes along with it.
Chapter Three
Saturday came all too quickly. Sophie, dressed in all her finery, walked up the few steps to the entrance of Winstanley Hall on the arm of her uncle. She wore a satin ball gown of cerulean blue and her golden blonde hair was arranged on top of her head with soft ringlets caressing her shoulder. She was like an ever changing Chameleon and this evening she looked every inch a lady.
Lord and lady Northcote were waiting to receive their guests, and as the Wyndholmes were announced, lady Northcote greeted Sophie with the same polite aloofness that she had at lady Bertram’s ball. She did not care for Sophie. She was aware of her husband’s dealings with Sophie’s father and was aware of Sophie’s condemnation, which she suspected may just be founded. Sophie was an uncomfortable reminder of her suspicions regarding her husband’s dishonesty. And although she could not deny that Sophie acted with propriety most of the time, Lady Northcote sensed her tomboyish ways and disapproved.
For her Aunt’s sake, Sophie just smiled graciously. She may have had her father’s venturing spirit but she also knew how to behave. She noticed that Lady Northcote was not wearing her mama’s brooch. She gave a sigh of relief, it would be hard to retrieve if Lady Northcote was wearing it, and she had every intention of stealing it back should the opportunity present itself.
Aunt Caroline had made it her mission to introduce Sophie to Colonel Harry Northcote and Sophie had made it her mission to avoid an introduction at all costs. She did not expect that the Colonel would recognise her, but neither did she want to take any unnecessary risks, so she was intent on spending the evening doing all she could to avoid him. She did not reckon on the tenacity of her Aunt who was not one to be easily thwarted, and as soon as Lady Northcote had finished receiving her guests, her aunt approached her hostess and asked for an introduction to her brother-in-law. She had known him as a child but as so much time had passed, she decided to follow the accepted etiquette and approach him with a formal introduction.
Sophie could not avoid it and within half an hour of entering Winstanley Hall, she was standing face to face with her Nemesis. Unlike that night when she had accosted him, he was wearing his scarlet regimentals and looked every bit the military man. He was more handsome than she remembered and it was only the presence of that unfortunate disfigurement on his temple that marred his perfection. The Colonel’s green eyes twinkled as he took her hand and kissed it, and she felt an unfamiliar sensation grip her body. Was it nerves? She could not tell, but she sighed with relief as he showed no sign of recognition.
As for Colonel Northcote, he had not been so enamoured of a lady since his encounter with his mysterious lady rogue just over a week ago. Maybe this young lady was just the tonic he needed to take his mind off that intriguing encounter. There was not a day had passed that he had not thought about his lady rogue and who she might be, but so far his enquiries had come to nothing. He sighed reminiscently and took Sophie’s hand. ‘Perhaps, Lady Trevarren, you would do me the honour of dancing this waltz with me?’
Sophie had no alternative but to take his hand. It would have been discourteous to refuse. As he led her onto the dance floor and put his arm around her waist, she felt a whirlpool of emotions. She had never been this close to a man before and indeed had never danced the waltz. She found, however, that it did not matter because he led with so easy a grace that she just naturally followed. She could feel the muscles of his hard thighs against her own and the faint smell of cologne pleasantly pervaded her senses. Gazing at the gold military trim of his red coat, she did not dare look up for she still feared that he might recognise her. He looked down on her blonde head with slight amusement. ‘You seem distracted, Lady Trevarren. I did not think my jacket was so fascinating.’
She looked up as he spoke and smiled. ‘I am sorry, Colonel, but I have never danced the waltz before and I am concentrating on the steps.’
He gave a start. There was something familiar about those wide blue eyes and long lashes, but he could not quite put a finger on it. He recovered quickly and Sophie was so engrossed in the dance that she did not notice his sudden distraction. ‘Tell me a little about yourself, Lady Trevarren?’ he asked. ‘Have we met before?’
Sophie raised those familiar blue eyes once more, the very picture of innocence. ‘I do not think so, Colonel. I think I would have remembered. There is not much to tell really. My father died six months ago and I have come to live with my Aunt and Uncle Wyndholme at Chalcotte Grange.’
A look of dawning reflected in his eyes. ‘Ah, then you must be the cousin of their son, Sir Sebastian Wyndholme. There is a strong family resemblance. That is why you seem so familiar to me.’
Sophie sighed with relief. ‘’Yes indeed, Sebastian is my cousin, but he is currently serving in Wellington’s army and I have not seen him for a long time. Do you know him well, Colonel?’
The Colonel looked thoughtful, almost contemplative. Being neighbours, Sir Sebastian Wyndholme had been a childhood playmate and later they had occasionally crossed paths in the Peninsular, but most of all, the Colonel had a much greater reason to be thankful to his old friend. Sophie was watching him patiently, waiting for his reply. Roused from his reflections he rallied. ‘I had the honour of serving with your cousin at the siege of Badajoz in 1812 and I owe him my life. He is a very fine man and a worthy friend.’
Sophie’s interest was immediately stirred. ‘Oh Colonel, please tell me about it,’ she asked excitedly.
The Colonel, not used to discussing his war experiences with a female, was not sure that he should elaborate. It was not a topic considered suitable for female ears, but she looked so genuinely interested that he decided that he could not disoblige her. He did not, after all, need to describe all the gory details.
‘It was a wretched affair,’ he replied. ‘After the forlorn hope had breached the walls, we were the first regiment through. It was a particularly perilous challenge and I could not expect my men to do something that I was not prepared to do myself. It was mayhem and I was struck on the head by a French sword. It was just a glancing blow but I was so dazed that the Frog would have finished me off, had I not your cousin at my back. That is where I got this ghastly scar of mine.’
Sophie looked at the offending scar in question. She had noticed it that night on the moonlit path but tonight it looked angry in the light of the flickering candles. It was about three inches long and ran down the side of his temple to his ear. She smiled at him. ‘It is not really so very bad when you get over the surprise of seeing it. It makes you look very distinguished, my Lord,’ she remarked reassuringly.
‘You are very kind, lady Trevarren,’ he replied with a smile. ‘And I assure you that I have learned to live with it.
I was one of the lucky ones. It was a blood bath. I have never seen Wellington so close to tears as he was on that day. I have to say that your cousin is a fine soldier, but forgive me, I rant on and I should not speak of such things to a lady.’
‘No, No but you must,’ she responded spontaneously. ‘I like to know things. It frustrates me that society feels the urge to treat us as if we are of no account.’
Colonel Northcote was quite surprised. In general, young ladies refrained from showing such pointed curiosity about serious subjects. ‘But the fairer sex are such gentle creatures,’ he objected. ‘You should not be troubling your head with accounts of war.’
‘Oh fiddle,’ she responded impulsively. ‘What nonsense. We are tougher than you would have us, and we certainly thirst for knowledge as much as men do.’
Colonel Northcote repressed a smile. The fact that the chit might be a bluestocking did not repel him at all. To the contrary, she was certainly refreshing and did not put on the false charms of the London debutantes who constantly fluttered their eyelashes at him, blushed, lisped and simpered in an effort to attach him. He felt rather melancholy. That was just the kind of thing he imagined his lady rogue would say. If fact, if it was not for those long blonde tendrils, she could easily be his lady rogue, but his lady footpad had short chestnut coloured hair that could not compare to Lady Trevarren’s luxurious mane.
He was called back from his reflections. ‘I believe you may be right. I find some of you quite intrepid. In fact, my great Aunt Aurelia terrifies me,’ he replied with cheerful aplomb.
Lady Trevarren and the Emerald Brooch: A Regency Romance and Murder Mystery Page 2
