by Anne Herries
‘I fear we have not been invited. I imagine Lady Martin has heard the rumours and prefers not to know us. I think we must either go to the theatre or stay at home that evening.’
‘Nonsense!’ he said. ‘Lord Martin is a cousin of mine. I shall speak to him and tell him the truth of Rosemarie’s story. I assure you this is a mistake and the invitation has been overlooked.’
‘Do you think you ought?’ Samantha was doubtful.
‘Certainly,’ he replied. ‘I know that Miss Ross believes her affections are engaged elsewhere, but should she decide that her heart is free, I should be very pleased to ask her to be my bride. The madness was not in her family and it is hardly her fault that her parents were not wed.’
Captain Cameron was of a very good family and the heir to a fortune himself, and Samantha knew it would be a good match for Rosemarie, but she also knew the girl’s mind was made up.
‘You are a loyal friend,’ she told him. ‘I wish I might hold out some hope for you but—’ a sigh left her lips ‘—Rosemarie does seem very set on Lieutenant Carstairs.’
‘Yes.’ A slight frown touched his brow. ‘I am not yet certain of my facts, Mrs Scatterby, but I fear Miss Ross may be disappointed in that young man.’
‘Oh, no, she has set such store by him. You can tell me no more, I suppose?’
‘I wish to be quite certain and then I must speak to Miss Ross first.’
‘Yes, of course,’ Samantha said. ‘If you could secure an invitation to that ball...’
‘I believe my cousin respects me and if I tell him the true story he will request his wife to change her mind and will set right her opinions if she has heard ill of Miss Ross.’
‘You have been of so much help to us already, sir.’
‘Not at all. Have you seen Major Brockley?’
‘No, I fear I have no idea when he intends to return.’
‘Surely he returned to town yesterday?’ Cameron looked puzzled. ‘I was sure he would have called on you immediately. I believe he ought to know what we have discovered about this business of Barchester.’
‘Yes, he ought for he will be concerned,’ Samantha said. ‘However, I am determined to speak to the Marquis myself and I believe that the matter may soon be settled.’
‘I still think it dangerous for you to approach him, Mrs Scatterby. Why will you not leave it to one of us?’
‘Because I think his pride will be so badly wounded that he would be bound to challenge you to a duel,’ Samantha said. ‘No, no, I thank you for all you have done, but this is something I must do myself.’
The young officer accepted that her mind was set and took his leave of her, and Samantha went up to her boudoir to write a letter. She would ask Barchester to call on her for tea and tell him what she’d learned. If he were not prepared to stop his vendetta against a girl who had harmed no one, she would threaten to expose the secret his family had successfully hidden for so many years.
In allowing his daughter to marry into a good English family, the previous Marquis had done a shameful thing. Her madness might have been bred into the Ross family and carried on down the years, haunting and ruining another life. Fortunately, her child had died before it drew breath and the family had been saved the pain of fearing to see it come out in yet another generation. Lord Ross had behaved with dignity and kindness, having his wife cared for and protected—but because he’d set another woman in his wife’s place and had a child by her, Lady Ross’s brother was determined to see that child ruined. It was wicked and wrong, and Samantha was determined that it should stop.
* * *
Brock had spent the day catching up on business he’d neglected, paying accounts and answering letters from his man of affairs. He’d spent the morning going through his post and most of the afternoon enclosed with his solicitor.
‘You are certain of your facts concerning the Earl of Sandeford?’ Brock had asked, frowning a little as Mr Stevens nodded. ‘What do you imagine he intends for Miss Ross? Does he wish her to take up residence in his house, or perhaps request that she disappear back to obscurity?’
‘I believe the Earl to be a man of upstanding morality,’ Mr Stevens replied. ‘I dare say he was horrified when his daughter kicked over the traces, as it were, and went to live with her lover knowing they could never marry. It is common knowledge that he disowned her and I dare say he was shocked to discover that his granddaughter had come to London and was taking the town by storm.’
‘Yes, I imagine so,’ Brock said, looking serious. ‘I wish I knew what he wanted of Miss Ross. It would suit me very well if he were willing to take on his responsibilities as her next of kin. He must surely take precedence over that wretched uncle of hers?’
‘Yes, which reminds me that Roxbourgh has done nothing more about wresting her estates back into his hands. He has not yet left the house, but he seems to have accepted that there is little he can do now. I had six angry letters from him at the start and then nothing.’
‘I find that slightly ominous,’ Brock said. ‘What is he plotting, do you suppose?’
‘Must he be plotting anything? Perhaps he has seen the error of his ways and will leave Miss Ross’s affairs to us in future.’
‘Yes, perhaps. Well, they say it is better to let sleeping dogs lie. I shall leave you now, for I have someone else to see. I have changed my will since I am not now to marry Miss Langton—and if you will have the new one prepared I shall come in and sign when it is ready.’
‘Very sensible, sir,’ Mr Stevens said with a nod of approval. ‘One cannot be too careful when visiting foreign parts. I believe there are some nasty fevers in India.’
Brock laughed and shook his head. ‘Perhaps in Calcutta, the larger cities and poor villages where the climate is hot and damp—but the embassy is set in the hills and it is much cooler there. The British officials and their wives all migrate to the area in the heat of summer and the Governor’s Residency is close by, and the Empire Club, where we all meet for drinks, croquet on the lawns and gossip.’
‘Well, that sounds very pleasant,’ Mr Stevens said. ‘However, I do not think Mrs Stevens would enjoy it. She is very set in her ways.’
Inclining his head, Brock said, ‘No, it takes a very special sort of lady to brave being the wife of a diplomat, for we never know where we might be sent.’
Brock offered his hand and took his leave. He was frowning as he set out to walk to Samantha’s home. It did take a special kind of lady to brave the rigours of living in an embassy overseas, away from family, friends and everything familiar. Brock believed that he knew one such lady, but he was still uncertain how she would feel about becoming the wife of an ambassador. She would need to love that man very much and he was not sure what she felt towards him.
His father’s warnings were fresh in his mind. He owed it to his family to be certain that he made the right choice this time. His father looked to him to provide an heir in good time and was clearly doubtful about Brock’s choice of a young woman who had been married before.
Brock had been eager to return to London and speak to Samantha now that he was free, but suddenly he had doubts once more. He recalled the way Samantha had pulled away from him in revulsion when he’d given way to the urge to kiss her that time. She had said nothing but the look in her eyes said it all. He did not wish to see that look again.
Besides, it would not be diplomatic to announce that his previous engagement was over in one breath and in the next ask Samantha if she would be his wife. It would almost be to insult her, as if he were suggesting that one lady was as good as another. No, he must first break the news that he and Miss Langton had decided mutually that they would not suit—and then he must court Samantha.
Lord Brockley had believed he might be labouring under some illusion of love for a brother officer’s wife, that he’d had a young man’s obsessi
on with a lady who was unobtainable and might be mistaken in his true feelings. Brock was certain that was not correct, but he could not be as certain of Samantha’s feelings. It might be that she had merely been concerned for a friend the night he was attacked. To speak too plainly might result in an embarrassing situation for them both.
He would start by taking her and Miss Ross to some special treats and these must be planned carefully. If he wished to make Samantha aware of his feelings it might be a good idea to send her flowers, to make it clear that she was the lady he admired—the only lady he’d ever truly loved. If he’d believed that she felt the same he would never have spoken to Miss Langton, but that was water under the bridge, a closed episode that he need not think of again.
Brock turned into an expensive florist’s shop and ordered flowers to be sent to Samantha the next day, then he purchased a posy of freesias and took them with him, a smile on his mouth as he left the shop. It was as he approached Samantha’s house that he saw Barchester leaving and the smile left his eyes. At this hour the fellow could only have been taking tea with Samantha, possibly at her invitation. He saw only the Marquis’s profile as he strode away.
Was it possible that Samantha had made up her mind to take Barchester? In view of what his father had told him, he hoped not for her sake.
He was admitted to her parlour by her butler and found her standing with her back turned as she gazed into the empty fireplace. She did not turn immediately and he sensed that something was wrong.
‘Samantha, my dearest, what is it?’
‘Brock! Oh, Brock, thank goodness you’ve come,’ she said and turned to greet him. He saw her face was white, strained and she looked closed to tears.
‘Has something happened to Rosemarie?’
‘No. Well, yes, it has been most unfortunate. Someone has been spreading tales about her mother and we’ve not been invited to some of the most prestigious events of the Season.’
‘Who spread these stories? Was it the Earl of Sandeford?’
‘No. Why should he spread tales?’ Samantha looked at him blankly. ‘Oh, because he was staring at Rosemarie that evening. No, it was not he.’
‘Sandeford is Rosemarie’s grandfather,’ Brock told her, going forward to take her hands. Finding that she was trembling, he looked at her in concern. ‘You are shaking. What has upset you so much? Was it Barchester? I saw him walking away.’
‘Yes, I confronted him and he—he threatened me. Said that if I breathed one word he would see me dead.’
‘Damn him! I’ll see him dead first.’ Brock was furious. ‘But you said you confronted him—about what?’
Samantha explained what Cameron had discovered and the rumours that had been circulating about Rosemarie, which had been started by Barchester.
‘I was afraid he would ruin her chances so I confronted him with what I knew and told him that unless he ceased this whispering campaign, I would expose his family’s secret. He was very angry. He looked at me in such a way and put his hands on my shoulders and shook me—and then he threatened to break my neck if I dared to breathe a word of it.’
‘Did he indeed? How extremely foolish of him,’ Brock said grimly. ‘He will learn to his cost that he may not treat you so, Samantha. I shall make him apologise to you, and to Rosemarie.’
‘No, Brock,’ she said, the ghost of a smile on her lips. ‘You must not challenge him to a duel, my dear. You really must not. I dare say I have overreacted.’
‘No, I know you too well to believe that,’ he said with a smile. ‘I shall not challenge him, but he may well challenge me when I have finished with him.’
‘Oh, how foolish of me to have provoked this scene. Captain Cameron would have confronted him, but I knew Barchester would immediately challenge him and the Marquis is such a good shot that I fear he would kill anyone he stood against in a duel.’
‘I doubt he’s a better shot than Cameron,’ Brock said. ‘But no matter, we shall sort this foolishness out, never you fear. Other than this unfortunate business, you are well?’ He looked anxiously into her face and saw that she look strained, little hollows in her cheeks. ‘You look tired, Samantha. Are you cursing me for bringing Rosemarie to you? I swear I never expected her to be a trouble to you. Where is she, by the way?’
‘Out walking with friends.’ Samantha shook her head. ‘I love her very much and I am glad you brought her to me. It is a terrible thing that her uncle—and now Barchester—should persecute her, but you said that the Earl is her grandfather?’
‘Yes, Mr Stevens has discovered that her mother was his youngest daughter. She was, I understand, his favourite and he was so hurt and angered by what she did that he cut her off without a penny. Now it seems that he is taking an interest in his granddaughter. The lawyer who came to visit her works for Sandeford.’
‘What do you suppose he wants? I do hope he isn’t going to try and punish her, too.’
‘As yet I do not know, but I intend to visit him tomorrow and discover if he will discuss the matter. If he were willing to become her guardian...’
‘Yes, that would be splendid, but supposing he wants to shut her away out of sight?’
‘To prevent her bringing more shame on his family? Yes, I had thought of that and shall be asking him his intentions tomorrow, but whether he will answer is another matter.’ Brock frowned and reached out to touch her hand. ‘Are you sure this isn’t too much for you?’
‘I am not yet in my dotage, Brock. Having one delightful girl to stay is not going to wear me down.’ Samantha gave him an arch look. ‘I think you have news for us. I do hope you intend to invite us both to your wedding?’
‘Ah, my wedding,’ Brock said, and made a rueful face. ‘Miss Langton and I have parted company on friendly terms. She knows of my intention to become a diplomat and does not think she would enjoy the life. She prefers to reside in London and the country, and so we have decided that it would be best to announce that the marriage will not now take place. It will be in The Times’s social columns tomorrow.’
‘Should I say I am sorry?’ Samantha asked, looking at him anxiously. ‘Has it caused you grief, Brock?’
‘I suppose my pride was a little dented when she first suggested that her terms for marriage were conditional,’ he replied, and smiled oddly. ‘However, my heart was never engaged, any more than was hers. It would have been a marriage of convenience in the true sense of the word.’
‘More her convenience it seems than yours,’ Samantha remarked. ‘I do not think she would have made you happy, Brock.’
‘No, not happy. I gave up hope of that a long time ago,’ he said, and sighed. ‘I suppose I might have been content—at least I thought so at first, but recently I have changed my mind and so it is a relief to me.’
‘I am glad,’ she said. ‘Brock, I think—’
Whatever Samantha intended to add was lost as the door of the parlour burst open and a maid entered, looked frightened and flustered.
‘Forgive me, ma’am,’ she said, and bobbed a curtsy. ‘I know I shouldn’t come here without being sent for—but it’s urgent. Miss Ross has been kidnapped, snatched before my very eyes off the street and made off with.’
‘Good grief!’ Brock cried. ‘Impossible. How could they snatch her in broad daylight? Did no one try to stop them or go after them?’
‘Lieutenant Cameron had gone to help the boy, you see, sir. It was as we was leavin’ the park and saw this gang of ruffians set upon a young lad. Miss Ross was upset-like and asked him to help and he went off and started dispersing the louts. At that moment three rogues grabbed hold of Miss Ross and scrambled her into a coach and made off in a hurry. I screamed, but by the time Lieutenant Cameron realised what was going on they was down the street and turned the corner.’
‘Has Cameron gone after them?’
‘He was on foot, sir,
same as us. He looked for a cab, but there was no sign of one—and then he saw a friend of his in a curricle and asked him to help. They set off in pursuit then, but the thing is, there’s a crossroads not far from the park and he might not have been in time to see which way they went.’
‘No, I see what you mean.’ Brock was silent as Samantha questioned the maid further and then sent her away. He turned to her with a frown. ‘I think it useless to set off in pursuit when we have no idea where she is being taken. I shall be of more use discovering who is to blame for this wicked abduction.’
‘Yes, I think you are right,’ Samantha agreed, looking anxious. ‘That poor child. To be snatched from under our noses and in broad daylight! I cannot believe that anyone would do such a desperate thing.’
‘No, it is the act of a desperate man—but which of them is the more desperate, Samantha? Barchester, her uncle or her grandfather?’
‘I wonder if it might be Barchester,’ Samantha said. ‘He was so angry when he stormed out of here...and yet the maid said three ruffians seized her. Would Barchester have had time to organise something of that sort? It sounds to me as if someone had planned it. No doubt the diversion was arranged to take everyone’s attention.’
‘Then it must have been her uncle or her grandfather.’ Brock frowned. ‘Yet, I would swear Sandeford is not the kind of man who would stoop to such an act. He might try to persuade Rosemarie to leave London and disappear, but would he really do something so desperate as to kidnap her in broad daylight?’
‘Her uncle, then? We thought that he must be planning something.’
‘Yes, perhaps.’ Brock nodded. ‘I shall speak to Sandeford this evening—and, if he will see me, Barchester. If I get no joy there I must leave town, go down to Falmouth in the morning. We must find her, Samantha. God knows what they will do to her—whoever they are.’
‘You do not think they would murder her?’ Samantha looked alarmed.
