by Anne Herries
‘Yes, of course. You can wash your hair in the afternoon instead,’ Samantha said, and pushed the small incident from her mind.
She did not think the Earl of Sandeford an evil man, even though Percy had said he was harsh and unforgiving. His interest in Rosemarie could have nothing to do with her uncle’s wicked plans to force her into an unhappy marriage. His expression had given little away, but for one fleeting moment she thought she had glimpsed a deep sadness, though in another instant it had gone.
Chapter Nine
Samantha was reading through the letters that had been brought to her that morning. Her breakfast tray was on the bed beside her and she was sipping a cup of sweet dark chocolate after nibbling at a croissant and thinking about the complimentary messages she’d received concerning her guest when the door of her bedchamber opened and Rosemarie entered looking anxious.
‘This letter was brought to me this morning,’ she burst out, clearly upset and frightened. ‘It is from a solicitor and...oh, I do not understand it and it frightens me...’
‘Come and sit here, child,’ Samantha said, patting the side of the bed. ‘Let me see, it’s from a lawyer, but not your own or Brock’s?’
‘I do not know the firm at all,’ Rosemarie said fretfully. ‘Look what it says—they wish to see me on a matter of business. I am to come alone and bring proof of my identity. They say it is a matter of some importance and must be kept private.’
‘Yes, I see they say it will be of benefit to you to comply with the terms of their client. Now, who can this client be and why does he wish to see you?’
‘I do not know,’ Rosemarie said, a flicker of fear in her eyes. ‘What am I to do? Do you think it is a trick? Is my uncle trying to lure me there so that he can pounce on me and have me shut up somewhere—or drag me back to marry Sir Montague? Oh, Samantha, I am frightened.’
‘Surely a firm as respectable as this would have nothing to do with anything illegal?’
‘But my uncle may have convinced them that I am in danger and need to be restrained for my own good.’
‘Yes, I see why you are anxious,’ Samantha agreed. ‘However, this particular firm is patronised by many respectable and, indeed, aristocratic families. I cannot think it a trap.’
‘Shall we ask Major Brockley what he thinks?’
‘Yes, certainly. He will advise you—but if I were you, I should request that the interview takes place privately here, Rosemarie. You may speak to the lawyer in confidence here and then you would be quite safe. No one could drag you from my house without us hearing.’
‘Yes, I think that is what I shall do,’ Rosemarie agreed, the anxiety fading from her eyes. ‘I could not think what I ought to do—I am so glad that I have you and the major to protect me.’
‘Well, your uncle has not yet done anything to try and snatch you, but we must continue to be vigilant. However, this letter may be important, and we must make certain that it is not a trap. If Brock thinks it safe, we shall invite the lawyer to come here.’
‘His name is Mr John Marshall,’ Rosemarie said and sighed. ‘Oh, what can it be about? I do not know the firm and it can have nothing to do with Papa’s fortune.’
‘Your father left you some mills, did he not?’ Rosemarie nodded. ‘Perhaps someone wishes to purchase them from you.’
‘Yes, I suppose it might be that,’ Rosemarie agreed. ‘But why should that have to be private? Why not simply let my lawyers deal with it? I do not see how it can be Papa’s business, Samantha.’
‘Yes, that would be the proper way in any matter of business, to let the lawyers deal with the matter.’ Samantha frowned, because it did seem very strange. The correct way to conduct business with a young lady was to approach her solicitors—this seemed to be more personal and a little menacing.
If Lord Roxbourgh were planning to use the law to have Rosemarie shut away this would be a clever way to trap an unsuspecting girl. Fortunately, she had friends to advise her and she was not an innocent child who would blunder into their evil web, but it was still very disturbing.
‘We shall consult Brock first,’ Rosemarie said with decision, ‘then, if he agrees, I shall write and ask the lawyer to come here to me.’
A tender smile curved Samantha’s mouth. The girl’s faith in Brock was touching, and indeed, she was sure he would make certain it was safe for her to reply before he permitted it.
‘Yes, I think that would be best,’ she agreed. ‘Now, what are you planning for today?’
‘I should like to go riding with Lieutenant Poole, if I may?’
‘Of course you may, dearest. He is a very pleasant young man and as the son of Lord Jennings very suitable to be your escort. I shall send word to Brock and ask him to call this afternoon.’
* * *
Brock frowned over the lawyer’s letter for several minutes before giving his opinion.
‘Had it come from your uncle’s lawyers I should have told you to ignore it, but these people are impeccable. My own father has had dealings with them in the past and I know he respects the firm. However, I shall go myself to see this Mr Marshall and make him aware of your situation. Only if he gives me his assurance that he is not acting as your uncle’s agent would I advise you to write to them, Rosemarie.’
‘Do you think it might be a trap?’ she asked, a tremor in her voice.
‘We must view anything that is in the least dubious as being something to be wary of until we have you safe,’ Brock said. ‘Your uncle can do nothing within the law. Everything is in place, Stevens assures me of that, but there is always the surprise element.’
‘Please, be careful, Rosemarie,’ Samantha said. ‘We care for your welfare, my dear, but we must not trust too easily.’
‘I shall only be safe when I am married,’ Rosemarie said. ‘I have written to Robert to tell him of my situation, to beg him to come and marry me, but as yet I have had no reply.’
‘Letters abroad take a long time to get there and for a reply to come back,’ Samantha consoled her. ‘Robert may have been sent on a diplomatic mission of some kind. You said that he was on Wellington’s staff, I believe?’
‘And was with him in Vienna,’ Rosemarie told her. ‘Oh, I know you will like him when you meet him, Samantha—and you, too, Major Brockley. I understand that I must gain the consent of my lawyers, but surely they must see that it is the best way to ensure my safety?’
‘Yes,’ Brock said, surprising Samantha by agreeing with her. ‘It would not do for you to run off with him, Rosemarie. Your uncle would then have cause to show that he was right and the courts might set your marriage aside. However, if your lawyers approve it—both of them—and the marriage takes place here amongst friends, we should manage the thing. I do believe it might be the best course for you.’
‘If only you had another relative, one who was closer to you than your uncle,’ Samantha said with a sigh. ‘If she or he would consent you would be perfectly safe.’
‘There is no one.’ Rosemarie hesitated, then, ‘Mama once told me that her mother died when she was born, but she never spoke of her father. Papa told me he was a cold cruel man who had disowned her when she ran away to live with her lover.’
‘He was still alive?’ Brock frowned. ‘I thought when you first spoke of your parents that you had no relatives. Do you think your grandfather might still be living? Do you know his name?’
‘Mama never told me anything about him. She said it was too painful. I think her father was unkind to her. Even if he were still alive he would refuse to acknowledge me. In his eyes I should be a bastard and beneath his notice.’
‘Ah well, there is little point in searching for him,’ Brock said, though he was thoughtful as the girl went upstairs to change for dinner that evening.
‘Do you think it a trap?’ Samantha asked after the door had closed be
hind her. ‘Surely such respectable solicitors would not be a party to a plot to shut the girl away in an asylum?’
‘I do not think it, but I suppose if they thought the girl was in need of correction and guidance... I will see what I can discover about the business,’ Brock said, and sighed. ‘I thought at first that marriage to this young officer would be a disservice to her, but now I am inclined to feel it may be the only way for her to be safe. The sooner those mills are disposed of and the money tied up in a trust for Rosemarie, the better. She is a considerable heiress, you know, and there are others who might seek to take advantage of her innocence.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Supposing her grandfather is alive and has discovered that she is wealthy? He, too, might feel that he is entitled to a share of the girl’s inheritance.’
‘Do you think the letter is from his solicitors—her mother’s father?’
‘It occurred to me when she said he was a harsh cold man who had disowned his daughter. He may have heard of or seen her in town and thought that if she could be persuaded to trust him.’ Brock heaved a sigh. ‘It is no easy thing to protect a girl who has too much money for her own good, Sam.’
‘No, it must be a trouble to you,’ she sympathised. ‘Especially if you care for her?’
‘I feel anxious for her,’ he replied, not responding to the hint. ‘However, it is of little trouble to me to do what I may for her. I shall speak to this lawyer and see if he will tell me anything, though I fear he may not.’
* * *
‘I am sorry, Major Brockley, I am not at liberty to disclose the identity of my client,’ John Marshall said after showing Brock respectfully to his rather small dark office. ‘He does not wish to be known to you or to Miss Ross at present. However, I can assure you that no harm is intended to the young lady and my firm would never agree to detain a person of any age without their consent.’
His manner was slightly affronted, which made Brock smile and went some way to reassuring him. ‘Forgive me, sir, but I wish only to ensure Miss Ross’s safety. We have reason to believe that an attempt to coerce her into a marriage she does not wish for—and to defraud her of her inheritance—may be attempted. Should that happen she would become a ward of the court. Steps have already been put in place to cover this eventuality. She cannot be detained against her will within the law, but...’
‘Yes, I do understand, sir.’ The young man frowned at him. ‘Miss Ross would not be the first young woman to be abducted and forced into a loveless union by an unscrupulous man. You do not name the persons you suspect of these crimes, but that is perhaps wise. I shall speak to my client. I do not suppose that he would object to the meeting taking place at Mrs Scatterby’s house.’
‘We feel that it would be safer for her in the circumstances, though I attach no blame to you or your firm, sir. However, if it is known that she will be here at a certain time...’
‘She could be snatched either on her way here or on leaving.’ Mr Marshall frowned. ‘I think my client will be interested in this news and he will, I am sure, be concerned for her safety.’
‘You may tell him that I am doing everything within my power to protect her. However, what she truly needs is the protection of a relative—a man of some standing in the world, who could set the seal upon her marriage to the man of her choice. Once she is wed and her fortune transferred to a secure trust, there would be no reason for anyone to abduct or harm her.’
‘Yes, I do see that,’ Mr Marshall said, his gaze narrowing. ‘However, I cannot comment on your views, sir.’
‘Well, you will be hearing from Miss Ross,’ Brock said, and offered his hand. ‘Now, if you will excuse me, I have an appointment myself.’
Leaving the lawyer’s office and making his way down into the street, Brock was thoughtful. He’d dropped a few hints, which, if his guess were correct, might bear fruit. It was all he could do for now—and he had an appointment to meet up with some friends at his club. It was his habit to spar with a pugilist once a week, and he was going to join some friends there. Afterwards, they would go on to the club and have dinner together informally.
* * *
It was late in the evening when Brock left his club. He was at first accompanied by two young gentlemen, ex-army officers with whom he was on the best of terms. They had dined well and indulged themselves with the finest wines the club had to offer and at least two of them were decidedly the worse for a convivial evening.
‘Stay for a nightcap, good fellow,’ Philip Young invited when they reached his lodgings. ‘Ralph—Brock?’
‘I thank you, but, no,’ Brock said, smiling slightly. ‘I should no doubt spend the night on your sofa if I touched another glass.’
‘I’ll oblige you,’ Ralph Melton replied. ‘Goodnight, Brock. Much obliged for your hospitality this evening.’
‘You are very welcome,’ Brock replied, and bid them goodnight.
He continued alone for some minutes for his own house was but three streets away, and there was little point in summoning a cab when it was a fine night. Walking in the early hours of the morning in London was not advisable in some parts of town, but here amongst the best houses and elegant squares it was safe enough and he did not even think of being attacked and robbed.
So the attack when it came was sudden and unexpected. Brock was alerted to the fact that he was being followed only seconds before the first bludgeon struck. He turned and tried valiantly to defend himself with his walking cane, getting in a few hits before he felt a stunning blow to the side of his head.
‘This is only a warning to stay out of his business,’ a voice said, and a leering face pressed close to his so that he could smell the foul stink of bad breath. ‘Next time we’ll finish you.’
What would have happened next Brock was not destined to discover for there was a shout and the sound of running feet. Even as he collapsed on the pavement, he knew that some gentlemen, who had chanced upon them, were driving off his attackers.
‘Oh, I say, it’s Brock,’ one of the cultured voices said. ‘Damned ruffians must have been out to rob him. Good thing we came this way, Cameron.’
Cameron. He knew that name and the voice that answered, but everything was a blur and Brock was unable to speak, the voices receding even as he tried to recall them, and then he felt himself lifted into a cab. For a while he knew nothing as the world went black.
* * *
Brock was aware of pain at the back of his head and a voice he knew well begging him to open his eyes and speak to her.
‘Sam.’ He struggled to open his eyes, finding that he was not in his own bedroom, but a rather feminine pretty room—and a vision of loveliness was bending over him, concern in her beautiful eyes. ‘What happened? Where am I?’
‘You were attacked in the street,’ Samantha said, her gentle voice soothing. ‘Some mutual friends helped you and when you were lying unconscious you muttered my name so they decided to bring you to my house for they were worried about you, and did not wish to leave you in lodgings.’
‘Good grief. What a fuss over nothing,’ Brock said and forced himself to focus as he pushed himself up the bed against a pile of feather pillows. ‘I am sorry you were troubled. What were they thinking bringing me here? Could they not simply have taken me home?’
‘Well, I suppose they could, but I was happy to help—and Rosemarie was very upset. She insisted on helping me to watch over you. What happened to you, my friend?’
‘It was just a robbery,’ Brock lied. ‘I had been having dinner with friends and probably drank too much wine. It serves me right for being careless. I should have taken a cab home from the club.’
‘Oh, Brock,’ Samantha said, looking at him anxiously as she poured some medicine into a small glass. ‘The doctor said you should take this to help you rest. I was afraid you might have been badly hur
t...and I thought it might be because of...’ She stopped and shook her head as she saw his frown.
‘You will not tell Rosemarie that,’ Brock instructed. ‘I will not have her blaming herself. I should have been more aware. This is not the first time I’ve been set upon in the street, but that time I knew my enemy.’
‘And you do not now? Surely it must be Roxbourgh?’
‘Not necessarily.’
‘I’m not sure what you are saying, Brock.’
‘I prefer that you do not,’ he replied with a wry smile. ‘Please, Sam, accept that it was merely a robbery. And now please go and tell Rosemarie that she may rest easy. I will be fine. You should retire, too, it is very late and I have already inconvenienced you enough. I will rest here a while longer and return to my own lodgings in the morning.’
‘I won’t hear of you leaving, Brock. The doctor was most insistent that you rest a day at least after your ordeal.’ Her face was pale, anxious, and she nibbled nervously at her lower lip. ‘Please, promise me that you will take more care in future, Brock. I could not bear it if you were murdered. I could not bear to lose my friend.’
His eyes went over her face and he felt a pang of something inside. Samantha’s face was revealing in that moment and a little flame of hope sprang to life.
‘Yes, I promise I shall not be so careless again. I had not thought I would be the victim of an attack. I have men following you and Rosemarie, ready to protect you should you require it. I did not imagine I would need protection myself.’ He paused, then frowned again. ‘It seems a little strange that the attack did not come before...unless...’
‘What?’ Samantha asked, but he shook his head.
‘No, it does not fit with my theory. I must think about things for a bit longer and you may rest assured that I shall be more careful after this.’
‘Very well,’ she said, and her smile lit up her face. Her beauty took his breath and he wished, as he had so many times before, that he was free to speak of what was in his heart. ‘I know you officers hate to be fussed over so I shall leave you. I suppose you know that our friend from our time in the Peninsula, Captain Stuart Cameron, was one of the gentlemen who came to your aid?’
