Unmasking Lady Helen
The Kinsey Family
Book One
Maggi Andersen
UNMASKING LADY HELEN
COPYRIGHT
This is a book of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright©2017 by Maggi Andersen. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute or transmit in any form or by any means.
Edited by Devin Govaere.
Cover art by Erin Dameron-Hill
ISBN: 978-0-9953658-5-8
Join Maggi’s Newsletter: http://www.maggiandersenauthor.com
Hear my soul speak:
The very instant that I saw you, did
My heart fly to your service.
The Tempest
Shakespeare
For James
Table of Contents
COPYRIGHT
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Epilogue
About the Author
Chapter One
Queen’s Walk, Green Park, London, 1821
“He’s down there again.”
“Come away from the window, Diana. He might see you.” Helen eyed her sister as she arranged the cups and saucers over the table. “The sun’s shining directly on your hair. You’ll attract inappropriate attention.”
“I will, in a minute.”
Unable to resist a peek, Helen rose and joined Diana at the window. Down below, in the line of trees rimming the park, a man stood half in shadow. He stepped forward, and sunlight fell on his face. A chiaroscuro of light and shade delineated strong cheekbones, a chiseled chin, and a determined set to his shoulders before the shadows claimed him again.
Helen turned away, unwilling to give such a masculine figure another thought. “The tea will get cold.”
“I can’t see him. He must have gone.” Diana let the lace curtain fall back into place and joined her at the table. “Another man has just walked away down the path.”
“Were they together?”
“No, I don’t think so.”
Helen finished buttering each scone and added strawberry preserve. She found small domestic tasks soothing, although Diana had accused her of using them to hide from the world. “Did you send the footman yesterday to inquire if the man needed assistance?”
“I did, but he’d vanished into the park before Jeremy reached the bottom of the garden.”
“Odd how he stands there alone for half an hour or more, a few yards from our back gate. He must be waiting for someone.”
Diana sat beside her on the threadbare crimson plush sofa. She took the thick white ceramic cup and saucer that was part of the schoolroom china and stirred in sugar. “If it was someone from Kinsey House, he would have inquired at the door.” She added a scone to her plate.
“If he comes again tomorrow, tell a servant to invite him down to the kitchen,” Helen said. “Some have fallen on hard times since the war. We mustn’t forget Father’s wish to care for the less fortunate.”
Diana chuckled. “He didn’t look hungry, not in fashionable clothes and Hessians, and he carried a brass-topped cane.”
“Then his business does not concern us.” Helen arranged the small triangles of sandwiches neatly on a plate.
Diana dabbed her mouth with her napkin. “He’s quite handsome.”
“Can you discern that from the schoolroom window? We are three flights above ground.” She’d thought the same. The cake knife poised to slice seed cake, she quickly dismissed an annoying flush of interest. It was merely him standing so still and intent when most strolled leisurely past along the Walk.
Helen offered Diana the plate, aware that her impulsive sister was about to indulge in one of her flights of fancy, some of which had led her into some awful scrapes in the past. “Your imagination is taking hold again. Next, you’ll be saying there are ghosts living in the attic.”
“Ghosts don’t live, silly. They metamorphose and float around.” Diana sipped her tea. “Perhaps I couldn’t see his face so well, but he is tall and broad-shouldered. At one point, he took off his hat and ran his fingers through his wavy dark hair.” She grinned. “It’s the reason I first noticed him.”
Helen smiled. “Perhaps he’s one of Papa’s classical scholars from Cambridge, composing a sonnet on wood nymphs. They’re a peculiar lot if you ask me.”
“But they all look pale and weedy, and he’s not at all—”
“Papa isn’t pale and weedy,” Helen interjected.
“But Papa is always away riding camels and visiting hot climes.” Diana gazed into space. “Perhaps this man is involved in a romantic liaison. And the lady has not kept her promise. She might have broken his heart.”
Helen shook her head and laughed. She envied her sister’s romantic view of the world. Helen’s view was more than a little suspicious. Men who did not behave as one might expect were deserving of suspicion.
Their lanky younger brother entered the doorway and crossed the worn patterned carpet stalked by a black cat. “Who’s broken whose heart?”
Diana shrugged. “It’s of no importance. Purely a hypothetical supposition.”
Helen dashed milk into a saucer and placed it on the floor. “Here, Plato.”
The cat graciously accepted the offering and lapped the milk with its pink tongue.
Toby perched on the old rocking horse. Gripping its moth-eaten mane, he rocked gently, his knees almost under his chin. “Ham sandwiches, cake, and scones? Good, I’m starving. Pour me some tea, would you, Helen?”
“Toby, would you like to play shuttlecock on the lawn tomorrow?” Diana brushed cake crumbs from her muslin skirt.
Dismounting, Toby sat down on the patched wing chair beside the low table. He piled his plate high with everything on offer. “We haven’t played for ages. Why now?”
“I have a yen for it,” Diana replied.
Toby’s freckled nose twitched, reminding Helen of one of those inquisitive red squirrels in the park. “I remember you saying it was unladylike to launch yourself around the grass after you’d turned seventeen, Diana.”
“Well, I’m eighteen in two weeks and much more mature. A lady can change her mind.”
“Tomorrow then. After breakfast.” He took the teacup and saucer from Helen. “I’ll have to make do with you for entertainment, I suppose, now that my Eton pals have gone off to the country.”
“Fool!” Diana grinned, leaned across, and poked his arm. “Not after breakfast. Helen and I have an appointment with the dancing master and after that a French lesson. About three o’clock.”
Eyebrows lifted, Toby looked from Helen to Diana. “I suspect an ulterior motive.”
Diana dissected her cake with her fork. “We have little enough to do while Papa is engulfed in the depths of some Eastern library. He won’t return for weeks. And there’s a mystery to be solved.”
“A mystery?” Toby turned to Helen. “What’s afoot? Has Diana been reading one of Papa’s books on Ancient Greece?” He gave an exaggerated shudder. “Or, worse, Mama’s Gothic novels?”
“You’d best tell him, Diana.” Helen rose to add hot water to the brown china teapot from the decorative gold and white samovar their father had brought back from his travels in Russia.
Diana frowned. “As you well know, I don’t read Greek. That’s a privilege only available to you and Harry.”
“I doubt Harry is interested in ancient history while discovering the joys of Paris.” Toby wrinkled his nose again. “You can attend my lessons for me, anytime. Well? Are you going to tell me about this mystery or not?”
“It’s merely an instinct. There’s not much to tell.” Diana described the intriguing gentleman she’d been watching in the park. “This is the third time he’s been there.”
“I say!” Toby jumped up, rushed to the window, and threw up the sash. “No one down there now. Anyway, there are always people strolling the Queen’s Walk to the Queen’s Basin and back again. Queen Caroline had that reservoir built to provide water for St. James’s. She had the library erected too.”
“Heaven knows what will happen to them now. It’s said that the king wishes to divorce her,” Helen said.
“Well, the gentleman disappeared from the park some time ago. A good thing too.” Diana gave a huff of disgust. “You’re so mutton-headed you would have scared him off. You’d make a dreadful spy, I must say. But he’s the reason we need to be down there tomorrow. If he comes again, we can confront him.”
“What if he’s a thief working out how he can break in and rob us?”
“He’s not.”
“How do you know that?” Toby asked, his mouth full of ham sandwich.
“He’s too well dressed to be a thief.”
“Well, if he is a rook, I’ll plant him a facer!”
“My goodness, Toby. As if you could!” Helen said with a huff of dismay. “Your imagination is worse than Diana’s.”
The door opened, and the nanny came in, holding the hand of their young brother. “Here is Lord Alexander, Lady Helen. If you could just watch him for an hour until milady returns from the lending library.”
“Please give our best wishes to your mother, Miss Prince,” Helen said. “I hope you find her in better health.”
When Diana and Toby added their best wishes to Helen’s, Miss Prince smiled. “Thank you. I must hurry or I’ll have little time to spend with Mother. And I plan to buy her some of those wonderful scotch eggs Fortnum and Masons make.”
As the door closed, Helen opened her arms. With a joyful cry, the chubby four-year-old boy climbed into her lap. She stroked his copper curls as he struggled to reach the food on the table. “You may have a sandwich and a slice of cake, Zander. I’ll be in trouble if you don’t eat your dinner.”
“Thank you, Helen,” Alexander said in his endearing baby voice. He took the sandwich and slid off her lap to investigate the toy chest in the corner.
“Do you intend to find a husband this Season, Helen?” Toby asked with his usual lack of tact.
“My goodness no. It’s Diana’s debut. I don’t intend to marry.”
“Oh, but you must, Helen,” Diana said.
“Not every woman must.”
Helen looked away from Diana’s concerned gaze. After her own Season ended in disaster some years ago, she’d reluctantly come to London and endured hot crammed ballrooms, Almack’s dances designed to marry one off, and horrid routs, while missing Bertie, her dog, and the beautiful spring at Cherrywood, their country home. She supposed at twenty-four she was fast becoming a spinster, but it ceased to worry her now that she had decided what her future would be. It lay ahead, soothing her as she tidied up the cake crumbs.
Diana gave a puzzled frown. “You seem to want so little from life, Helen. I remember how your first Season ended so regrettably, but you have discouraged several suitors since then. You would make a wonderful mother. Unlike me. Father says I’m adventurous while Mama accuses me of being too impetuous.”
“I’m sure they’re both right,” Toby said, leaping in with both feet and receiving a sharp poke in the side from Diana.
***
Jason, Captain, Lord Peyton, strode away through the trees of the park, a muscle tightening in his jaw. Still no sign of his informant. Had he met with foul play? If the man failed to turn up tomorrow, Jason would return to Whitehall and consult Lord Parnell, the Spymaster General, who’d pressured him to take this job. Jason hadn’t been involved in intelligence work since the Peninsular War, and he had little inclination to do more of it, but Parnell could be forceful, and even quite ruthless. He was not to be denied once he’d considered Jason best suited to investigate a member of the upper classes without detection.
Already an extremely reluctant participant in what seemed a hastily conjured-up mission, Jason had better things to do with his time than kicking his heels up in the park. Why his contact hadn’t suggested somewhere more discreet he didn’t know. A pub in the Seven Dials would have been wiser. Here, these big free-standing mansions along the Queen’s Walk would overlook them. For all he knew, he could have had a dozen curious eyes on him while he waited there. In fact, he’d caught sight of a fiery head at one of the upper-story windows. But that would most likely be a maid or a child in the nursery.
Details of their information were sketchy at best. Only that the informant was employed in one of the houses along the Walk. The arrangement was for the man to slip out and divulge some threat he’d uncovered that the government decided merited close examination. But where was he? Had it been a ruse? The man had asked particularly for Jason, whom he said he trusted. But Jason didn’t even know what position he held or from which of those big houses he came. It irked him to be so ill informed. As he only had the briefest connection to one or two of the inhabitants, Parnell would need to produce a viable reason for Jason to visit them.
Twenty minutes later, he entered his Mayfair townhouse in South Audley Street and relinquished his coat, hat, cane, and gloves into the arms of his butler, Russell.
“The post has come, my lord.”
Jason removed his mail from the silver salver on the pier table and headed up the sweep of stairs to the upper floors, scanning a scrawled missive from his brother, Charlie, up at Oxford. What scrape was he in now? Money, he supposed. It usually was.
His sister, Lizzie, appeared at the banister rail on the landing above him, her dark hair covered by a white lace cap tied at an angle under her chin. She’d forgone her widow weeds for half-mourning and wore a gray dress with bands of purple on the collar, hem, and cuffs.
“Jason, would you care to escort me to the Peckworths’ soiree this evening?”
“I’d be delighted.” He was pleased and somewhat relieved when Lizzie had come to London to stay with him, revealing an interest in Society again. He examined his sister’s peaky face. In contrast to her black hair, her skin was like alabaster. But the bruised look beneath her eyes, evidence of her profound sadness, had faded. Greywood had been gone for more than eighteen months. It was time to take her place in society again.
On the following afternoon, Jason took up his position in the park. Breathing in the smell of sun-drenched grasses, he leaned against a tree and pulled his younger brother’s letter from his pocket. Charlie was being sent down for some misdemeanor or other. He’d explain when he arrived. Jason still was unable to discern much from the hasty lines. How serious was it? Worse than the time he’d put itching powder in his tutor’s linen? Or when he’d missed a whole afternoon of lectures to take part in a rowing race on the Isis near Folly Bridge? The fact that he was the finest rower they’d had for years got him out of that one. This one might not be so easy. There was something final behind his words.
Again, no one approached Jason to identify himself. He studied his pocket watch and, with an annoyed shake of his head, returned it to his waistcoat pocket d
eciding to remain for only fifteen minutes more.
A dark-haired woman in a brown pelisse and straw bonnet, with a basket over her arm, cast him a sharp, inquiring look before entering the garden gate of the mansion in front of him. After greeting a young woman and a youth playing shuttlecock, she paused in conversation with a gardener raking leaves at the far corner of the lawn then disappeared through the servants’ door.
The young woman with curls the color of a copper pan caught Jason’s attention. She squealed and hit the shuttlecock over the net then stopped to look his way, as if seeking his praise.
Jason smiled and applauded.
The young gentleman, who was no more than fifteen, turned then, and Jason saw this as his chance.
He removed his hat and crossed the walk to their gate. “Lord Peyton. Good day to you.”
The pair dropped their bats and hurried over to him. Two pairs of intense blue eyes studied him. “We’ve seen you here before, my lord. May we be of help?” The young woman smiled. She was pretty, her bright curls coiled about her small ears beneath her bonnet. Had she been watching him from one of the upper-story windows yesterday?
Her blue eyes sparkled. “Were you waiting for someone? A lady perhaps?”
Startled, Jason clamped his lips down on a laugh. “I’m afraid not. Purely business. I’m from the Office of Works. I’m sure you’re aware that John Nash is renovating Buckingham Palace for the King, as well as Green Park.”
The boy opened the gate and stepped through. He offered his hand. “How do you do? I am Tobias Kinsey, and this is my sister, Lady Diana.”
Jason shook his hand. “Your father is Lawrence Kinsey, the scholar and explorer?”
“You’ve heard of him?” Lady Diana asked. “I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised. Father’s work is well known.”
“We have met.” Jason recalled Lord Kinsey drawing him into conversation about the need for funding for some research trip at a dinner. Had all his children inherited his periwinkle blue eyes? Arresting in Lawrence Kinsey’s suntanned face when he’d aimed his forceful gaze at Jason and begged assistance. Jason had given it without hesitation. Such was the charm of the man. The elder son of the Marquess of Walcott, Kinsey was known to be brilliant if unconventional.
Unmasking Lady Helen: The Kinsey Family (The Kinsey Family Series Book 1) Page 1
