If occasionally she was a bit lonely, she accepted it, accepted that she was probably meant to be a spinster. There had been other gentlemen; indeed, half a dozen marriage proposals had flowed in over the years, but those gentlemen had seemed somehow insubstantial, not touching her, even when she allowed several of them to kiss her. If, upon occasion, she thought of the child or children she would never shepherd into this world, she wanted to weep, but she soon got over it. Her lot was an enviable one, and she should never forget it. Thank heavens her father was a fine man, filled with laughter, with a tolerant view of his fellow man.
Sophie said to Leah, “Julian believes me a positive youngster, doubtless an empty-headed schoolroom chit. He wants me to consider him a fond uncle.”
Leah looked from Roxanne to Sophie. “Since I am a widow and thus expected to be older than twenty, your grace, then mayhap your son—the perfect age—will consider me the perfect age as well.”
“But what about Richard Langworth?” Roxanne asked, cup poised halfway to her mouth.
Leah said calmly, “I have learned a lady can never have too many gentlemen dangling after her. It keeps her sparkling, don’t you know. As for my dear Richard, I have written him a small missive, telling him where I will be this evening. I hope he will be able to come.” As she walked out of the drawing room ten minutes later, she said quietly to Roxanne, “He is mine, do you hear me?”
“But Leah, you said a lady can never have too many gentlemen—”
“Do not make me smack you, Roxanne. It has been a long time, but I remember how to do it.”
“What a singular woman,” Corinne said to Roxanne, after Leah and her maid left in the Radcliffe carriage for shopping in Bond Street. “I cannot like it that she is seeing Richard Langworth. I started to tell her he was a dangerous man, but—forgive me—your sister isn’t at all, well, pleasant, I guess I would say, and maybe they deserve each other.
“But this worries me. Do you think he sought her out purposefully, Roxanne? That he knew of my son’s connection to your family?”
I certainly do, she thought, but she said, “It doesn’t seem very likely. I mean, he could find out that I would be coming with my niece to London for the Season. It’s also possible he could have discovered that you, your grace, and Sophie’s mama were best friends, even heard you hoped for a wedding between her daughter and your son. But all of that seems so convoluted to me.
“Since I have not attended the assembly-room balls on Mount Street in several months, it is quite possible he did indeed meet Leah there. Mayhap this budding romance is only as it appears—an innocent encounter.”
Sophie said, “An innocent encounter? Come, Roxanne, it blasts one in the head with the coincidence of it.”
“Whatever the reason,” Corinne said thoughtfully, “he moved quickly to attach her. It appears he was successful.”
“It would help, ma’am, if you told us why he believes Julian shot Lily.”
Corinne shook her head.
Sophie said, “My mama always said she was blessed and cursed with her sisters. She said Aunt Leah was the curse part. I think it was one of the few times my papa agreed with her. I believe Aunt Leah once called him an advocate for the joys of Hell. He didn’t know what she meant, but he was put off by her. Not that he ever appreciates a female expressing an opinion in his presence.”
Roxanne wanted to curse Reverend Wilkie and laugh at the same time—an advocate for Hell—well done, Leah, but she didn’t laugh. She stood up and shook out her skirts, said, “Leah obviously does not know what sort of man Richard Langworth is. Do you think I should make the push to detach her from him?”
Sophie said, “I cannot imagine she would believe you, Roxanne. She would think you jealous.”
Corinne said, “I do not like this, girls. It doesn’t bode well for bringing to fruition what I want in the full passage of time.” She gave Sophie a significant look. Sophie merely smiled at her. Corinne added, “I believe I shall have to set Jory to following him. Mayhap I shall have to hire another boy.”
And I, Roxanne thought, shall have to determine what, if any, danger Richard Langworth poses to my sister. And to Julian.
17
Devlin fired. The small white paper target fifteen feet distant burst into pieces.
“Good shot,” Julian said, raised his own pistol, and fired. The paper square beside the first one exploded.
As he picked up his second pistol and fired it at the third square, Devlin said, “I saw Sophie,” and missed. He frowned, set the pistol down, turned to Julian. “It draws dreadfully to the left. You win, Julian, since I missed that last one. Sophie told me the other Radcliffe sister has come to London to visit—her aunt Leah. I must say she sounded rather ambiguous about it.”
“What do you mean ‘ambiguous’?” Julian seated himself in front of a table that smelled of oil, waved off the attendant, and began to clean his pistol himself.
“Her name is Leah Cosgrove, Lady Merrick, widow of a naval captain, a baron, who drowned some years ago. I fancy if I knew her better, Sophie would have relieved her bile and called the woman a bitch. She said Aunt Leah was sharp with Roxanne, insulting her, really, and she didn’t like it, and what did I think?”
“What did you say?”
“I said I would meet the woman and then tell her.”
Julian laughed. “As you know, my mother, who has never minced matters, called her an ill-intentioned harpy. She told me about her visit with them. And believe me, Dev, that’s not the worst of it.”
Devlin said only, “Yes, I know. Richard Langworth is in the picture, evidently the close friend of Lady Merrick.”
Julian nodded. “I do not know how it came about, but I am convinced it isn’t a random coincidence. I believe Richard somehow discovered my mother wanted an alliance between Sophie and me. I don’t know how he found out, but I will discover it.”
Devlin closed his two pistols in a very old mahogany case. “Do you know, I think it’s time you put a bullet in him, Julian—cleverly, of course, since you don’t want to be forced to leave England.”
“I shall consider it.”
“Good. Now I’m off to see Corrie Sherbrooke. I want to see if she’s still vomiting in the chamber pots.”
As for Julian, he worked with Pennyworth until his eyes nearly crossed, worried more about the Blue Star, and took himself off to speak to a half-dozen bullyboys Harlan had told him knew everything that happened at the docks.
He was walking toward his house when he simply felt the other man’s presence. He felt his small derringer solid and loaded in his vest pocket. He slowly turned. “Richard.”
“Three years have passed since you left England after Lily’s funeral. Indeed, you left so quickly I didn’t have time to kill you. Why did you come back? Did you possibly believe that all would be forgiven? Did you think I would forget what you did? Forget you destroyed my family?”
Julian said, his voice utterly emotionless, “I have known you and your family all my life. We grew up together. I loved Lily, you knew I loved her, you were pleased when we married. How could you ever believe I would harm a hair on her head, much less kill her, even if there was this supposed lover in the picture?”
Richard stared at him, rage narrowing his dark eyes. “You ran like the puling coward that you are.”
Julian shrugged. “I ran believing I could somehow outrun my grief. But do you know, there is no place to hide from a desolation that is burrowed in the deepest part of you? Time has faded her face, the way she looked in death, but the pain is still deep. I never knew the pain of loss before, so I do not know if the pain will ever go away.”
“It is your guilt that keeps it fresh, but the pain of loss, of anger at the injustice, is mine and my father’s and my sister’s. But you know that. You still will not admit your guilt to me, will you? There is none near to hear you, so why not?”
“I did not kill Lily.”
“There was no one else, no lover lurking about
. Do you believe she killed herself?”
Julian shook his head. He simply couldn’t bear to think Lily could have shot herself.
“Such a lovely dark night it was at Saint Osyth.”
“So,” Julian said slowly, “it was you watching me and my men bring in our goods.” Thank God he hadn’t allowed Devlin to come with him. “I finally realized it must have been you.”
“I only wish I’d known where you were going. I could have brought a dozen excisemen with me. At least now your amusement is over. You dare not risk using that cove near Saint Osyth again. If you do, I might be waiting for you.”
“Once upon a time you and I went smuggling together, Richard.”
“A lifetime ago. Have you heard of your ship?”
Julian said slowly, “What do you know of the Blue Star?”
“All know she is weeks late. Out of Constantinople, I’m told.” Richard gave him a sneer, nodded, and left him, whistling.
Julian realized in that moment that Richard had planted a man on his ship, and that man had done something. He took a dozen fast steps, grabbed Richard’s arm, and spun him around. He grabbed his collar and hauled him close, saw the shaving nick on his chin, the coldness in his dark eyes. “You will tell me what you have to do with my ship being late.”
Julian felt the muzzle of a pistol pressing into his belly.
“That’s right, Julian, if you do not release me this instant, I will blow your guts out your back.”
Slowly, Julian released him and stepped back. “You obviously want to tell me, or you wouldn’t have mentioned it. What have you done?”
Richard looked at him dispassionately. “I hear your mother wants you to marry Sophie Wilkie. She’s a lovely little pullet, but nothing like Lily. Lily was a goddess. She didn’t deserve to have you as her husband.
“Nothing to say? I heard Sophie Wilkie giggle at something Devlin Monroe said to her. She sounded happy, bless her infant’s heart. She’s an innocent. She doesn’t have any idea what you are, does she? Yet you will draw her in, and she will end up dead.”
“What do you know about the Blue Star?”
“Ah, I see, you’re afraid I may try to attach little Sophie myself. I could, you know. What would you do then, Julian?”
Julian suddenly saw Sophie naked, Richard covering her. He said easily, “I would kill you.”
“And risk being hung? My father would see to it, you know. He is not without influence, and he hates you as much as I do. He now believes you murdered Lily.”
“Richard, look at me. Do you remember the first time we got drunk? It was just the two of us, laughing our heads off, then puking up your father’s brandy. We sailed together on Désirée. We hunted together. We went to Oxford together. How can you believe me capable of killing anyone, much less someone I knew and loved all my life?”
“You are a liar, Julian. Someone saw you. No, I will not tell you who, that would sign a death warrant, wouldn’t it?”
“Then why isn’t Bow Street hauling me off to Newgate?”
Richard said, “I have all the proof I need.”
“I see, Bow Street wouldn’t believe this person, would they? Tell me, Richard, what is this proof?”
Richard leaned close, his breath hot on Julian’s face. “I will make you pay. Soon you will know and understand the pain that is now woven into my life, a pain that invades my dreams.”
Julian managed to grab Richard’s wrist before he pulled the trigger. When the gun fired, the shot went wide. There was only one bullet in the derringer. Julian pulled Richard close again.” Listen to me, I loved her, no one else, and she loved me.”
The familiar sneer marred Richard’s mouth. “Time grows close now, don’t forget.”
Julian felt his blood run cold. “Stay away from Sophie Wilkie and Roxanne Radcliffe. Stay away from Devlin Monroe. This is between us, no one else, just us.”
Richard slowly raised his pistol, leveled it right between Julian’s eyes. “This derringer holds two bullets, but I shouldn’t want to hang or be deported, either. Soon, Julian.” He turned away, whistling again, a Navy ditty, popular on Julian’s ships, actually written by Amos Toft, first mate aboard the Blue Star.
Julian’s heart pounded hard and fast. He called out, “Stay away from Sophie’s aunt Leah. Surely she cannot know what you are about.”
Richard turned slowly. “That’s right, Leah is Sophie Wilkie’s aunt, isn’t she? Fancy that. It is indeed a small world, isn’t it?”
“You knew exactly who she was, and that is why you attached her.”
“But how could I have known that?” He laughed. “Leah is known as the most beautiful Radcliffe sister, at least that is what she told me. Mayhap she is more beautiful than Roxanne Radcliffe. What do you think?”
“I have not yet met her.”
“I believe I find Leah quite fascinating. The stories she tells me, so many of them, about her sisters and their silliness, their never-ending ill will and spite toward her—the beautiful middle sister. The only time she shuts her mouth is when she is moaning. And that is lovely, I assure you.”
“You set yourself out to meet her because you knew who she was. But I wonder, how did you find out about my mother’s scheme?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about, Julian. Will you be at the Caulcott musicale this evening? You will be able to meet the most beautiful Radcliffe sister. Do you know she looks like an angel, all pale blond hair, blue eyes the color of a summer sky? Thankfully she was not cursed with the red hair of her sister—it is vulgar, don’t you think?”
“Her hair is the color of the sunset over the Aegean Sea.”
“So the wind blows that way, does it? And not toward little Sophie Wilkie? How very disappointed your dear mother must be.”
Julian said not another word, forced himself to walk away, his own pistol still in his pocket. He wanted to shoot Richard right between the eyes. He was the better shot, at least he was once upon a time. It all seemed so long ago as to be a different lifetime.
What are you planning, Richard? To hurt Sophie? Roxanne? So that I will be hurt as you were?
There appeared to be no hope for it. The last thing Julian wanted to do was go to a musicale with twin tenors from Milan, even though his mother had begged him to attend with her as her escort. He would rather face a Spanish firing squad. But now he had no choice at all.
Did Richard’s derringer really hold two bullets?
18
Corinne lightly tapped her Spanish fan on her son’s arm, careful of the delicate spans, since he had sent it to her the previous Christmas. “You are not being at all obliging, Julian. There is Sophie, and she looks ever so lovely, doesn’t she? All that glorious hair, and her blue eyes, I am reminded of spring when I see her eyes. Yes, a fresh spring day with the heavens practically glowing.”
“So it isn’t raining?”
She tapped him again, a bit harder this time. “Your jest is on the thin side, dearest. I really believe you should save her from her Leah, not a pleasant woman, too much spite and venom. Bethanne told me all about her, but so gently—you know how she was—but I knew what she was really not saying. I’m sure Leah made poor Roxanne’s life a misery whenever she could. I remember Bethanne said once Leah always seemed eager to tear down, never to build up.
“You have five minutes before we are treated to the Milanese twin tenors. Have you met them? Lady Caulcott marched them out a while ago, showing them off to her guests. They speak no English, so all they do is bow when one speaks to them. Would you look at that, there’s Richard Langworth fast approaching Leah and Sophie. I don’t like this, Julian.”
Julian didn’t like it, either. He patted his mother’s hand and managed to reach the women at nearly the same time Richard Langworth did.
“Sophie,” he said, giving her a bow. “Perhaps you would care to have a glass of the wicked champagne punch? To fortify yourself for what is to come?”
She grinned. “I shou
ld prefer champagne, but I see no bubbles in my future. First, Julian, I would like you to meet Roxanne’s sister, my aunt Leah, Lady Merrick. This is Lord Julian Monroe, Lady Merrick. Ah, and Mr. Langworth.”
If Richard noted the sudden coldness in Sophie’s voice, he gave no sign. He watched Leah extend a graceful hand to Julian, watched him bend over her wrist but not kiss it. He watched Sophie Wilkie place her hand on Julian’s arm, to draw him away. Since he wasn’t blind, Richard also saw the banked threat in Julian’s eyes.
He smiled. “My dear,” he said to Leah, “shall we take a stroll around the room before we are bolted to our seats for the musicale?”
She dimpled up at him. “I am so pleased you are here, Richard. I was beginning to wonder—”
“The moment I received your note, Leah, I changed my plans for the evening. You look delightful. Come.”
Sophie watched the two of them walk toward the huge buffet table at the far end of the large ballroom, weaving their way gracefully through the crowds of black-coated gentlemen and rainbow-gowned ladies.
“He seems so charming,” Sophie said. “Not showing on the outside what boils inside him.” Why does he believe you murdered his sister? But she said nothing.
Neither did Julian.
“You came to rescue me?”
“Consider yourself rescued. Since there is no champagne, would you like me to take you to Roxanne? She is speaking to a portly gentleman who is, I believe, a longtime friend of her father’s.”
“Let us stroll for a bit, if you don’t mind. I wish to consult my wise uncle.”
“I am at your service. Something bothers you, Sophie?”
She placed her hand on his arm again and drew close. “I’m thinking perhaps I can mask my face, lure my aunt Leah onto the balcony, tap her on the shoulder, and when she turns, smack my fist to her jaw, topple her over into the bushes. What do you think?”
The Prince of Ravenscar Page 9
