The Bloodied Cravat

by Rosemary Stevens

  “I thought they were friends. Wait, were they arguing about Cecily Cranworth?”

  Freddie nodded. “Yes. Lord Kendrick declared that nothing could induce him to marry Cecily. Then he said something about how if Roger put up a fuss, or went against him in any matter, that he would go to Squire Oxberry and tell him the way of things.”

  “The way of things? Why would Roger tell Squire Oxberry that Lord Kendrick will not marry his sister? He cannot be thinking of a breach of promise suit?”

  “I do not know. I surmised that was what Lord Kendrick meant. Roger became quite agitated and muttered what I think were threats. I could not hear clearly. Then I heard Lord Kendrick say, ‘Why should I?’ and Roger responded with ‘Come to my room and I’ll show you.’“ I sensed they were about to exit the very door near where I was standing, so I came directly outside.”

  “How interesting,” I said. “There is something more going on, and I confess I am curious to learn what the two are about. Whatever it is, though, I want it to happen away from Oatlands.”

  “I agree. I am very relieved that Lord Kendrick and his cousin have gone.”

  “Freddie, you said that while you were in your chamber something happened that disturbed you. What was it?”

  She let out a sigh. “Even though Lord Kendrick and Lady Ariana are gone, they have left behind another problem. Ulga told me she cannot find the antique Roman hair ornaments Signor Tallarico gave me for my birthday. She said she would continue looking for them, but, George, I feel perhaps Lady Ariana might have .... “Freddie’s voice trailed off, but I knew what she was thinking. “I just hope that Signor Tallarico does not ask me to wear them.”

  “Somehow I doubt you will escape that fate,” I said dryly.

  A breeze blew a strand of Freddie’s hair across her face. She reached up to confine the lock. “His flirtations are harmless, George. I cannot lie to him, yet how am I to tell him that Lady Ariana—”

  Freddie’s voice broke on a gasp. One hand flew to cover her mouth. Her gaze focused behind me, towards the house.

  I turned to see the cause of what had startled her and received a shock myself. For there, strolling out the garden door of Oatlands seemingly without a care in the world were Lord Kendrick and Lady Ariana.

  Lady Ariana drifted over to Cecily Cranworth and Doctor Wendell. Cecily gave her friend a hug and commenced instructing Lady Ariana on how to hold the bow and arrow. I noticed Miss Cranworth ignored the marquess, who began walking down the side of the house. His objective appeared to be a shady oak tree where Lady Deidre sat surrounded by admirers.

  “George, why has he not gone? How dare he remain after I told him to leave? How dare he?” Freddie questioned, infuriated at Lord Kendrick’s defiance.

  Before I could answer, the next few seconds threw all of us into turmoil.

  With the help of Doctor Wendell and Cecily, Lady Ariana managed to shoot an arrow toward her target. Unfortunately, the arrow went off its mark—to the shoulder of Lord Kendrick. The marquess fell to the ground.

  Chaos ensued as ladies screamed and fainted. Doctor Wendell rushed to the marquess’s side. Freddie broke away from me to follow him.

  I turned my steps to go with her, when I heard Miss Cranworth call my name. “Mr. Brummell, Mr. Brummell, please help me!”

  I swung to my left to see her trying to manage a hysterical Lady Ariana. Alternately babbling incoherently and crying out Lord Kendrick’s name, Lady Ariana worked herself into a fit. She dropped to her knees, her hands flailing.

  Stepping over to assist her, I asked Miss Cranworth if she had a vinaigrette. While she retrieved one from her reticule, I helped Lady Ariana to her feet and placed a bracing arm around her thin shoulders.

  “Do but look, Lady Ariana. Your cousin has merely fallen,” I said trying to reassure her. “I believe the arrow just nicked him. The unexpectedness of the blow must have knocked him down.”

  “My thoughts are bad!” Lady Ariana wailed. “I have killed him.”

  My gaze met Miss Cranworth’s over Lady Ariana’s head.

  “No, my lady, you have merely killed his coat. See for yourself,” I insisted.

  “Mr. Brummell is correct,” Miss Cranworth concurred while waving the vinaigrette under Lady Ariana’s nose.

  “No more, no more,” Lady Ariana protested, coughing, and Miss Cranworth returned the vinaigrette to her reticule. “They are taking him into the house. He must be hurt!”

  “Now use your sense, Lady Ariana,” I said in a cajoling tone. The girl had little sense, and what she had was severely disordered, but one must try. “The Royal Duchess is walking with Lord Kendrick into the house. If he were mortally wounded, would he be able to walk? Here, Doctor Wendell comes to us. Doctor! Tell us of Lord Kendrick’s condition.”

  The steadfast doctor waved his hand. “No cause for alarm. The arrow but grazed his right shoulder. It did not even break the skin. He’ll have nothing more than a bruise. The Royal Duchess took him into the house where he’ll change his shirt and coat, and be back with us in a trice.”

  Lady Ariana sobbed. I took my arm from about her, confident she could stand on her own, and offered her my handkerchief.

  At that moment, Signor Tallarico consigned Lady Penelope to Lord Wrayburn and appeared at our side. He took the handkerchief from my hand and dried Lady Ariana’s tears himself, joking and teasing her the whole time as one would treat a girl of ten summers. An effective stratagem, for she soon managed a smile for him. Under the Italian’s care, she walked away to the refreshment tables.

  I wanted to see that Freddie was all right, but Doctor Wendell spoke before I could go. “In truth, I’m much more concerned about Lady Ariana than I am Lord Kendrick. Cecily, I hope you don’t mind me being frank in front of Mr. Brummell.”

  She shook her head. “No, Mr. Brummell proved himself a friend last night when Connell—”

  “Shh, you don’t need to remember that villain’s actions.” The doctor pressed Miss Cranworth’s hand. Then he said, “Lady Ariana has led a terrible life, if what one hears is to be believed, Mr. Brummell. Based on her behaviour, I’d say the rumours are true. And now, Lord Kendrick neglects his duty where Lady Ariana is concerned.”

  “I wish there was something I could do for her,” Miss Cranworth lamented. “I always thought that I would be able to if I—if I married Connell. Ariana would live with me. I would take care of her. Indeed, I love her as a sister. But now I am not to ...”

  Doctor Wendell tensed. “But now you are not to wed Lord Kendrick.”

  Miss Cranworth smiled at him shyly. “No.”

  The doctor relaxed and returned her smile.

  “What can I do to help Lady Ariana?” I asked.

  “Nothing more that I can think of at the moment, Mr. Brummell. I think, if I may be so bold as to suggest, that your calm control would do her Royal Highness’s guests the most good now. If you were to circulate amongst them and reassure them all is well.”

  “Yes, that is the very thing, Doctor.” I pulled a silver card case out. “Here is my direction in London, if you should ever need me.”

  I left them and wandered about talking with people as Doctor Wendell had advised. The doctor was a man to be admired. He had kept a cool head and obviously cared for not only Miss Cranworth and Lady Ariana, but also Freddie. No doubt the years of helping look after her pets resulted in his loyalty.

  His suggestion that I show by example that there was no need for distress was sound. Though it was not what I wanted to do. What I wanted was to find Freddie. I did not like the idea that she was once again forced into the marquess’s company. There might be another confrontation.

  Telling myself that Freddie would more likely return outdoors after turning Lord Kendrick over to a servant rather than enter into a debate with him alone—I would give her ten minutes before going after her—I bowed and made myself agreeable to the Duke of Derehurst and his daughter, Lady Deidre.

  I cannot tell you the depth of my astonis
hment when, about five minutes later, Freddie and Lord Kendrick walked our way.

  I had never seen Freddie so white in all the years I have known her. Her face was completely bloodless.

  Lord Kendrick had changed his coat. He waived gaily at Lady Ariana and Signor Tallarico before joining us. With his perpetual smirk in place, Lord Kendrick gazed at me with a triumphant air about him.

  Freddie addressed Lady Deidre. “All is well; however, Lord Kendrick has suffered a brush with death. You must promise to dance with him tonight, Lady Deidre. He is a brave man and would make you a fine partner.”

  I stood mute, staring at Freddie, hardly trusting my ears. What the devil had happened to make her say such a thing?

  His Grace, the Duke of Derehurst, seemed almost as surprised. “Well, Deidre, if Lord Kendrick has received so high a recommendation by the Royal Duchess, I say one dance with the marquess is in order.”

  Lady Deidre looked appraisingly at Lord Kendrick. “I shall save you the first contra-danse.” She plied her fan. “I have not seen you in London yet this Season, my lord. Will we have the pleasure of your company in Town soon?”

  What the marquess answered to this query, I could not tell you. My attention was solely on Freddie. She stood as if turned into a marble statue. I could bear it no more. “Excuse us, please,” I said, executing a bow and leading Freddie away. She did not protest the action, indeed, she complied in silence.

  People were all around us, sipping drinks, strolling, and undoubtedly talking about Lady Ariana’s unfortunate mishap.

  I guided Freddie towards an unoccupied area of the refreshment table. “What happened? What made you say those things to the Duke? Freddie? Freddie, what is it?” I whispered in growing alarm. I placed my hand on her arm, pressing it gently, willing her to speak.

  She looked down at my hand and then up at me. “Please remove your hand from my person.”

  I felt as though she had struck me. Speechless, I obeyed the command at once.

  Holding herself in rigid control, her Royal Highness would not look at me. Instead, she gazed at a point beyond my head. “Before he went upstairs to change his coat, Lord Kendrick demanded to see me in private. I would not have agreed, except that he began to recite these words to me: ‘My Dearest George, You cannot know the disorder of my thoughts as I pen these lines. Friends have written me about my husband’s behaviour of late, though their words can only confirm what I already know. The Duke has formed a strong attachment this time.’ “

  Chapter Twelve

  Everything around Freddie and me remained normal; the guests nibbled food and chatted, players aimed at the archery targets, birds sang in the aviary, dogs begged for treats at the food tables. Yet, for a moment I heard nothing and saw nothing. I was numb with shock.

  Freddie spoke again, her voice flat. “Lord Kendrick took me aside. He stated that he is in possession of that letter I wrote you, George. It is the one I wrote when my husband set up

  Mrs. Clarke as his mistress, and I was so very distressed—”

  “I know the one,” I managed to get out. The numbness began to leave my body. In its place, a profound self-loathing—what a detestable creature I was for keeping that letter!—along with a blazing rage at the marquess began to overtake me.

  Freddie’s voice, now grim, went on despite my silence. “Lord Kendrick said that unless I wanted him to send the letter anonymously to the Morning Post, I would do exactly as he said. At present, he is not blackmailing me for money. His father left a fortune. Rather he wants me to help him gain respect with the highest members of Society, specifically the Duke of Derehurst and his daughter, Lady Deidre. Lord Kendrick desires her to be his wife, and he knows the Duke holds my opinion in high esteem.”

  Without a conscious decision to do so, I turned my head in the direction of Lord Kendrick. He was walking away from the Duke and Lady Deidre toward the Cranworths—Roger had finally appeared at the picnic—and Lady Ariana. Lord Kendrick’s smirk was visible even from a distance.

  Of a sudden, every nuance of my famous self-control deserted me. I left Freddie without saying a word and strode rapidly across the grass.

  Before he could reach the others, I grabbed Lord Kendrick by the lapels of his coat. “You vulgar coward,” I ground out. “Give me that letter or I shall deliver you to your Maker, I promise you.”

  Lord Kendrick’s eyes reflected panic. Then he rallied. “I am not the only one who knows about the letter. Killing me will only result in my partner revealing all. The Royal Duchess will be the subject of a roaring scandal, and you will be hanged for murder.”

  “Better they take away my life than ruin my or the Royal Duchess’s character. You are the highwayman, or you have employed someone to do your dirty work. Yes, that is it. You just said you had a partner. Not uncommon for the black sheep of the family to take on such an occupation.”

  “I’ll not be involved with the robberies any longer,” the marquess said. “I’ll be too busy having you and the pretty little Duchess dancing on a string for me.”

  Fury overcame me. “By God, I shall find a way to stop you from hurting her, even if it does cost me my life.”

  “Heigh-ho, what’s going on here?” the oily voice of Sylvester Fairingdale interrupted. His sharp gaze rested on the marquess, then my hands on Lord Kendrick’s coat.

  The fop acted as a catalyst to bring me to my senses. I looked about me at the curious glances directed my way. Lady Crecy had one hand to her ample bosom. Lady Penelope appeared taken aback. Tallarico reached inside his coat, probably to retrieve the jewel-handled dagger I know he keeps there. Doctor Wendell’s jaw dropped.

  For once, I was somewhat grateful for Fairingdale’s tendency to meddle his way into my life. God knows what I might have done to Lord Kendrick had Fairingdale not appeared when he had.

  I forced my muscles to relax, and my expression to reflect concern. My hands smoothed the lapels of Lord Kendrick’s coat. “The marquess’s valet had not adjusted the shoulders of his coat properly when Lord Kendrick changed clothes. I was just tugging the coat into place, helping him achieve the proper appearance.”

  Lord Kendrick smiled—meaning his smirk twisted a bit—at the company.

  The others seemed to accept this explanation and returned to their own pursuits. All except Fairingdale.

  “Is that so?” the fop said, clearly not believing a word I had spoken.

  “Yes, it most certainly is,” Lord Kendrick answered. “Brummell and I have become the best of friends. In fact, he will be putting my name up for membership at White’s Club for gentlemen when we return to London.”

  I should sooner put his severed head up on a stake at the crossroads, but with every ounce of control I could muster I held my tongue and my temper in check.

  “We will talk again later,” I told Lord Kendrick.

  “Indeed we shall,” he replied in a superiour tone.

  I walked back towards the refreshment table, my mind racing. A plan to search Lord Kendrick’s room for the letter immediately presented itself in my brain. Now would be an excellent time, while he was outside. Although his valet might be in his master’s chamber.

  First I wanted to say a few words to Freddie, namely words of abject apology, and give her my strongest assurance that I would get the letter back.

  However, when I reached the long end of the refreshment table where we had been standing, she was gone. A wigged footman behind the table caught my attention. “I beg your pardon, sir, but her Royal Highness asked me to deliver a message to you.”

  “Yes, go on.”

  “Mr. Fishe came to her, asking for her assistance with the Royal Duchess’s dog, Phanor.” The footman shifted, looking uncomfortable. “Her Royal Highness instructed me to tell you that she would be unavailable to see you until dinner this evening, sir. She asked that you respect her wishes.”

  “Thank you,” I said, feeling as if I had been handed a one- way ticket on the Royal Mail-Coach to Hell. “Would you be good
enough to pour me a glass of that Chambertin wine?”

  * * * *

  Intent on searching Lord Kendrick’s room, I went into the house and sent a footman for Old Dawe. The elderly retainer appeared in the hall and bowed. “What can I do for you,

  Mr. Brummell?”

  I ran a hand through my hair, not caring about its perfect arrangement. “Which is Lord Kendrick’s bedchamber?”

  Old Dawe appeared undisturbed by the question. “His is three doors down on the left from yours, sir.”

  “Has he a valet with him?”

  “Yes, sir. Thompson, who served the old marquess, now serves Lord Kendrick.”

  “Is Thompson, mayhaps, in the kitchens or the pantry just now?”

  Old Dawe shook his head. “No, sir. I do not believe he has left the marquess’s room since he helped him change his coat earlier.”

  “Did Thompson come down to supper with the servants last evening?”

  “No, sir. A maid brought him his meal on a tray.”

  “Thank you.”

  Climbing the stairs, I decided there was no easy way I could search the marquess’s room while his valet was about. I would have to find a way to divert the man. Quickly.

  I reached my bedchamber, flung open the door, and found a possible co-conspirator; Robinson had returned from London.

  Robinson dropped the towel he was about to drape over the washstand. “Sir! What has happened to your hair?”

  “What? Oh, I think I must have run a hand through it. This has been a trying day.” Good God, was that an understatement.

  “No, sir, I mean, I knew it should have been trimmed before I left, but there was no time. Now you have got it in an entirely different style.” Robinson’s eyes narrowed. “Did

  Mr. Digwood do that?”

  I closed my eyes for a moment. You have allowed your hair to grow. I like it this way.

  Freddie. Freddie was angry with me with very good reason. Both our reputations were in jeopardy.

  In that case, I shall keep the style. For you.