A Regency Invitation

by Nicola Cornick

  The outer door opened to admit John. Timms had carried out his errand in record time. The valet withdrew discreetly, closing the door behind him, just as John exclaimed, ‘Marcus! So you really are here!’

  ‘He has been here all the time,’ Anthony said evenly. ‘I could not tell you until today. You have always said that, as a member of the House of Lords, you have a responsibility to uphold the law. You were bound to say that I should have yielded Marcus up.’

  ‘You are right.’ John frowned. ‘I do say so. Even though I have not the least doubt that Marcus is innocent of the charge against him. I know the magistrate who issued the warrant. He is a man of principle. He will not permit Marcus to be convicted without evidence.’

  Anthony took the paper from Marcus and offered it to John. ‘Until this moment, all the evidence was damning. But read that letter. It proves there was a conspiracy against Marcus.’

  John quickly scanned the letter. ‘Good God! This is infamous! “If you fail to pay, I will inform Mr Marcus Sinclair that you hired me to attack Frobisher and lay the blame on him. Given Mr Marcus Sinclair’s deadly reputation with sword or pistol, you may prefer to avoid that.” I can hardly believe my eyes. Who has written this?’ He turned the paper over, looking for a name. ‘I can see the importance of this, of course, Anthony, but I doubt it will be enough to convince the magistrate. There are no names here. Who is this would-be assassin? And what villain has promised to pay him to implicate Marcus?’

  ‘One of the servants must be—’

  John shook his head. ‘No, Anthony. This is not the work of a servant. Nor could a servant afford to pay so great a sum.’ He tapped the letter with a fingernail. ‘This was done by someone who is your enemy, Marcus, someone who knew just how to ensure that you—and only you—would be accused of this crime. You must be able to tell us who it is.’

  Marcus hesitated. He glanced towards Anthony for support, but he, too, was silent. The grim set of his mouth suggested that he had identified the most likely culprit. John was frowning now. He looked truly worried.

  ‘I cannot say, John. There were a great many people in the gaming hell that night. And we were all in our cups. It could have been any of them. Or perhaps it was someone who learned of it afterwards.’ That sounded very lame, he knew. Especially as very few of those from the gaming hell were now guests at Lyndhurst Chase. But Marcus was determined not to name William. Not to his brother. Not without proof.

  ‘Ned Devereaux was there, was he not, Marcus? He has done any number of outrageous things since he attained his majority. Might he be responsible for this?’

  ‘I doubt—’ Marcus began.

  Anthony interrupted him. ‘That is not possible, John. Ned Devereaux is a feckless young rascal, but he is thoughtless, not wicked. Besides, he…ah…’ Anthony stopped, looking embarrassed.

  ‘What Anthony is trying to say, John, is that young Devereaux is in no position to send notes to anyone, or to receive them. He is being hidden in the cellar of the North Lodge.’

  ‘Good God!’ John exclaimed again. He sat down abruptly in the nearest chair. ‘This is not a hunting box. It is a madhouse!’

  Marcus grinned at him. ‘You understand now why Anthony could not tell you any of this. Believe me, Ned Devereaux has come to no harm. We had to lock him up to stop his gossiping tongue. He’d caught sight of me, unfortunately. Given half a chance, he was bound to tell the world. So we decided to…er…offer him an extended stay at the Chase. Don’t look so concerned, John. The lodge keeper, and that deaf old aunt of his, are looking after Ned. He and the lodge keeper have a shared passion for cards and wine. Timms tells me that young Devereaux has no desire to leave.’

  ‘Young Devereaux is a wastrel!’ John declared roundly. ‘His sister has spent years bringing his estate into good heart, and he seems like to gamble it all away in a twelvemonth. Amy Devereaux is a fine woman. She deserves better than Ned.’

  ‘Amy Devereaux?’ Marcus repeated, sounding surprised. ‘But surely she was married some years ago? To some rich old Cit, I heard. I thought, at the time, that it was a terrible waste.’

  ‘And so it would have been,’ John agreed, ‘but it did not happen. Miss Devereaux is still single. She has put all her energies into saving her brother’s inheritance. That is why she has not been in society for some years now. Why, even Sarah is hard put to persuade Miss Devereaux to make a visit of more than a day or two. The lady maintains that she dare not leave the estate for any longer.’

  ‘With Ned Devereaux ready to plunder it, I am not in the least surprised,’ Anthony put in tartly.

  ‘She and Sarah are fast friends,’ John continued. ‘But I was not aware that you and Miss Devereaux were acquainted, Marcus.’

  Marcus hoped he was looking suitably unsettled by John’s enquiry. ‘The lady did have a Season, John. Or part of one, at least. I met her then. We were—’ He shook his head and turned away abruptly to gaze out of the window. ‘I am much surprised to learn that she is still unwed,’ he added in a stifled voice.

  ‘As am I,’ Anthony agreed. He sounded relieved that the subject had moved away from the note and its unnamed recipient.

  ‘You will soon be able to judge for yourself whether Miss Devereaux is still in looks, Marcus. My wife tells me that her friend will be arriving at the Chase at any time. She would not leave the Devereaux estate for Sarah’s sake, but she has learned that her precious brother has disappeared. She is coming here herself to look for him.’

  Marcus threw up a hand and turned back to Anthony. ‘In that case, we had better make sure that Ned Devereaux is released—and sober—before she arrives.’

  Anthony laughed then.

  John did not. ‘That is not the issue,’ he snapped. ‘What are we going to do about Marcus?’

  Anthony took a deep breath. ‘Do you accept, John, as I do, that this letter provides proof of Marcus’s innocence?’

  John nodded.

  ‘Good. Then, with your agreement, I shall announce to the assembled company that Marcus is here, that I have written proof that he was not responsible for the attack on Frobisher, and that the real culprit is being sought. If the culprit is here at the Chase, we may manage to smoke him out.’

  John nodded again. He looked more concerned than ever.

  ‘You understand that you must not leave the Chase, Marcus? I shall warn the servants to hold their tongues, but as soon as you are known to be here, the gossip is bound to start. However, with luck, we will have identified the true villain before the rumours of your whereabouts reach the magistrate in London. You must remain at the house, in plain sight, acting the part of an innocent and honourable gentleman who has been gravely wronged by these accusations. Remember that you are here at the Chase because I have insisted upon it. You were all for surrendering yourself to the magistrate, of course—’

  Marcus gave a bark of laughter.

  John was shaking his head in disbelief.

  Anthony ignored them both. ‘No doubt the magistrate will believe every word of it. Such defiance of the law is only to be expected—’ Anthony’s voice took on a note of real bitterness ‘—from a man who is known to have made away with his wife.’

  Anthony finished his announcement to stunned silence. Everyone seemed to be staring at the floor, or the furniture. No one was daring to look directly at anyone else.

  No one except Marcus. He had been hidden behind the heavy curtains in the corner of the room, from where he had been able to watch them all. Especially William. William had paled at the mention of Anthony’s ‘written evidence’. His eyes had flickered towards his brother. But John had been sitting with bent head, his mouth set in a grim, determined line. William had then leant nonchalantly against one of the huge fireplaces. He had even raised his eyebrows in feigned surprise as Anthony’s gloomy recital continued. But there had been a bead of sweat on his upper lip.

  ‘Marcus!’ Anthony beckoned him forward.

  Everyone turned. There was a babble of excited vo
ices. Words of welcome, and congratulation, and astonishment.

  Marcus smiled at them all.

  ‘You may leave us now, Ufton,’ Anthony said to the butler. ‘You have my permission to share this information with the inside servants, though they are not to discuss it outside the Chase. Make absolutely sure they understand that Mr Marcus is innocent of all the charges against him. He has been wickedly maligned. And I intend to make it my business to find the culprit. Is that clear?’

  ‘Yes, sir. Quite clear.’ The butler bowed and silently withdrew.

  William came forward, smiling too broadly. ‘You’ve been dam…dashed lucky, Marcus, I must say.’

  Marcus nodded, thankful that William had not offered to shake his hand. He was perversely pleased to see that William’s split lip had not completely healed.

  ‘Marcus! What the devil were you doing, hiding there? And where have you been all this time? Come over here at once. I wish to speak to you.’

  ‘It will be my pleasure, Aunt Harriet,’ Marcus lied.

  ‘Now, what’s all this about? Didn’t understand a word of that nonsense Anthony was spouting. The man’s clearly been losing his wits since the day he lost his wife.’

  With a noise akin to a suppressed explosion, Anthony marched out of the room.

  Great-aunt Harriet ignored him and turned to her companion. ‘This is my scapegrace nephew, Marcus Sinclair. Marcus—my companion, Miss Saunders.’

  Marcus bowed politely.

  ‘Move to another seat, if you please, Miss Saunders. I wish to have a private conversation with Marcus.’

  The companion rose immediately. Some of her embroidery silks fell to the floor in a scatter of colour.

  ‘Allow me, ma’am,’ Marcus said, stooping to help her retrieve them. Then he picked up her books as well and stood, looking round the room. ‘Where would you wish to sit, Miss Saunders?’

  Great-aunt Harriet pointed her ear trumpet towards a vacant chair. ‘Stop fussing, Marcus, and come here. I said I wish to talk to you.’

  ‘Presently, ma’am,’ Marcus replied. He would help the companion to settle herself in her new place first. Great-aunt Harriet might treat the poor lady like a servant, but Marcus would not. He set the books and the silks on the little table next to her chair and helped her into it.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Sinclair. You are very kind.’ She smiled shyly up at him, with just a hint of a blush in her pale, flawless cheeks.

  He gazed at her for a moment, narrow-eyed. Hers was indeed a very sweet face. ‘It was my pleasure, Miss Saunders,’ he said. And meant it.

  The old lady patted the now-empty place on the sofa beside her. ‘Sit here, Marcus, and tell me what the devil is going on.’

  Since he had no choice, Marcus did as he was bid. He noticed that William had gone. All the others were drifting out of the room, too, probably going off into secluded corners to discuss Anthony’s astonishing statement. And to wonder about Marcus’s proclaimed innocence.

  Sarah had remained sitting calmly in the window with her embroidery. John would have warned her, of course. Nothing Anthony had said would have come as a surprise to her. And she was in Amy’s confidence, too. How much would Amy have told her about Marcus?

  Sarah looked up just then and caught Marcus’s eye. He could almost have sworn that she winked at him. He bowed his head and began to cough, covering his mouth to hide his laughter. Sarah had always had a wicked sense of humour.

  ‘I don’t know why you are sitting there looking so satisfied, Sarah Mardon. I warned you about that woman of yours. And I was right.’ Great-aunt Harriet brandished her ear trumpet to reinforce her point. ‘Was I not? Eh? Eh?’

  ‘You were, Aunt Harriet,’ Sarah said meekly. ‘And next time I will take care to listen to your advice. Thank goodness my old abigail will be returning soon. I was quite deceived by Dent. If I had not caught her—’

  ‘We seem to be remarkably well endowed with villains at the Chase,’ Marcus interposed calmly. ‘What precisely did this Dent woman do, Sarah?’

  Sarah looked at him with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. ‘I found her rifling through John’s papers, Marcus. She had no excuse, of course. I dismissed her on the spot.’

  ‘Quite right.’ Marcus nodded sagely, avoiding Sarah’s eye. ‘Gone, has she?’

  ‘Yes. She’s long gone now. I doubt any of us will ever set eyes on her again.’

  ‘Never mind that!’ snapped Great-aunt Harriet. ‘Marcus was about to tell us about this gaming hell of his. Well, Marcus?’

  Taking a deep breath, Marcus launched into a suitably censored version of his quarrel with Frobisher and its aftermath.

  ‘Miss Devereaux, Major.’

  All the gentlemen rose immediately. Anthony moved forward to greet the new arrival. From his place by the window, Marcus gazed at the woman he loved. He had thought he was prepared, but not for this. She was breathtaking. He could feel a degree of warmth rising on his neck and realised he could well look like a lovesick boy instead of a grown man. It made him feel remarkably vulnerable, even though it was bound to be helpful to their cause.

  Amy curtsied gracefully to Anthony. She had clearly taken considerable pains to ensure that nothing about her appearance would remind the guests of the missing abigail. Her glorious silver-blonde hair was piled high in a knot of curls. To draw attention to it, she had chosen a tiny little hat, with two long feathers, which was perched, rather drunkenly, on the side of her head. She was dressed in a travelling pelisse of deep blue velvet over a gown of a lighter shade. Everything about her was vivid and eye-catching, and the height of elegance. She gave Anthony a glowing and hopeful smile. ‘Major Lyndhurst, I am come in search of my brother, Ned.’ She frowned a little. ‘I understand that he has not been seen since he left Lyndhurst Chase.’

  Anthony nodded reassuringly. ‘Do not be concerned, Miss Devereaux. Your brother is here. And he is perfectly well.’

  ‘Oh, that is wonderful news. I have been so worried. Thank you, Major.’ The frown had left her brow, to be replaced by a look of relief and enquiry. She began to scan the faces in the room, seeking her brother. ‘Oh!’ she gasped, when she came to Marcus. ‘M…Ma…!’ She put a gloved hand to her mouth and swallowed nervously. She looked suddenly very self-conscious. ‘Why,’ she said in a rather brittle voice, ‘it is Mr Sinclair, is it not?’ She dropped him a tiny curtsy. ‘How do you do, sir?’

  It was Marcus’s turn now. He moved forward to bow over her outstretched hand. ‘Miss Devereaux,’ he said softly. Then, in an absurdly gallant gesture, he raised her fingers to his lips. ‘May I say, ma’am, that you are looking even more beautiful than when I last saw you?’

  Now, Amy really did blush.

  ‘Flummery!’ snorted Great-aunt Harriet from her accustomed place on the sofa. ‘Young men today! Can’t be doing with ’em!’

  Marcus winced, but stood his ground. Amy had not failed him. And he would not fail her. ‘This is your first visit to Lyndhurst Chase, I collect, ma’am? I should be delighted to offer you a tour of the gardens, if you are not too fatigued by your journey. There are some exceptionally fine vistas down by the lake.’

  ‘Cut line, Marcus! The gel came here to find her brother, not to go wandering off with you.’

  ‘Aunt Harriet is right on this occasion, Marcus,’ Anthony said, a little testily. ‘Miss Devereaux, I regret that your brother is not here to greet you. He did know that you were expected. No doubt he has been…detained. I will send to fetch him.’ He crossed to pull the bell. ‘May I offer you some refreshment while you wait for him?’

  ‘Miss Devereaux might prefer to put off her travelling clothes first, Anthony,’ Cassie put in. ‘She is to have the room opposite mine, the one that was Lady Margaret’s until you dismissed her.’ She pretended to ignore Anthony’s warning look. ‘I am sure that your brother can be asked to wait a little, given all the anxiety he has caused you, Miss Devereaux.’

  ‘I would welcome a chance to wash and change, certainly. It will take m
e but a moment. I do so long to see with my own eyes that my brother is safe and well.’

  ‘He is very well, ma’am,’ Marcus put in. ‘I would go so far as to say he is in very rude health.’

  Amy smothered a gasp and glanced to Cassie for support.

  ‘Oh, ignore him, Miss Devereaux. He is incorrigible. Shall I show you the way to your chamber?’

  ‘That is most kind of you, Miss…’

  ‘Forgive me, I should have introduced myself. I am Cassie Quinlan. My husband is Viscount Quinlan. That gentleman over there.’ She waved a hand in the direction of the Viscount, who bowed. ‘We are lately married, you know,’ Cassie added airily.

  ‘My congratulations, Lady Quinlan,’ Amy said.

  Cassie took Amy’s arm and steered her towards the door. ‘Since you are such an old friend of Sarah’s, I am sure we shall get on famously.’ The door opened to admit the butler, come to answer Anthony’s summons, but Cassie brushed past him, talking all the while. ‘Tell me, Miss Devereaux, how is it that you come to know my cousin Marcus?’

  Anthony shook his head at Cassie’s departing back. ‘Women!’ he muttered. Then he turned back to Marcus. ‘And as for you, Marcus! You must have windmills in your head to behave so! Make yourself useful for a change. Go and look for Miss Devereaux’s brother. And don’t come back without him!’

  Marcus hurried out before his self-control deserted him completely.

  Marcus was unable to get Amy alone until after dinner when the company reassembled in the drawing room. She had been prevailed upon to play and so he volunteered to turn her music.

  ‘I have spoken to Ned,’ Marcus whispered, under cover of turning her page. Amy began to strike the pianoforte keys rather more loudly than was required by the markings on her music. ‘He says it’s not a matter for him, but if you’re determined to have me, he won’t object.’

  Amy’s fingers stumbled. She glanced fondly across at Ned, who was lounging inelegantly in one of the wing chairs. He had drunk a great deal of wine at dinner. Luckily, it seemed to have made him sleepy, for, when fully awake, he was quite capable of complaining, all over again, that he was disgusted by all the ‘lovey-dovey stuff’ at the Chase. First, the Quinlans. And then, his own sister! It was as well that Ned was planning to leave on the morrow. And that he had been sworn to secrecy about Marcus’s hiding place.