“That sounds as if you don’t like Lord Peyton.” Diana served herself some halibut. “He is very approachable and exhibits none of the froideur so fashionable amongst the dandies.”
“No, he was not cold or aloof in his manner, in fact, I found him quite amiable. Nevertheless, there is steel beneath. You also are of a determined nature, Diana. You have been thus since you were a baby. But some men will not easily bend to your will.”
“Lord Peyton—” Diana began.
Mama held up a graceful hand. “Men like Peyton, who was an officer during the most brutal campaigns fighting Napoleon, are not biddable.”
“But what if such a man falls in love?” Helen asked. That could change most men she imagined.
“Perhaps then. With the right woman.” Mama glanced at Helen. “A sensible wife could make all the difference. Especially one who has had some experience of life.” She patted Diana’s arm. “But not a girl just out of the schoolroom.”
Diana bristled. “I am almost eighteen, Mama.”
“And your father has kept you carefully sheltered within the bosom of this family.” Mama smiled. “I agree that it is time for you to spread your wings. But I want you to enjoy your first Season. It is the most wonderful time of your life; do not waste it chasing after rainbows. Meet many gentlemen, and choose the best one for your husband.”
After dinner, once Helen and Diana dismissed their maid and climbed into bed, Diana folded her arms over the coverlet. “I don’t think Mama gives me enough credit.”
“You know Mama is far wiser than we are, Diana.”
“Normally, I would agree. I am no longer a child, and she needs to realize that. But she soon will.”
Recognizing the defiant note in Diana’s voice, Helen rolled over to study her sister in the flickering light. “As Mama said, many men will attend your ball who are of a suitable age and disposition.”
“I expected such a sensible reply from you, Helen.” Diana yawned. “You don’t have my passion for life. I can’t imagine you falling madly in love with someone entirely unsuitable. Blow out the candle, will you? I’m sleepy.”
She supposed Diana was right. Helen rubbed her arms and lay staring into the dark. She well understood her sister’s attraction to Lord Peyton. She, too, had noticed his strength and confidence, but Helen had also detected a world-weariness in his eyes. She foresaw trouble ahead. Papa had always told Diana she could have anything in life she wished for. In Helen’s experience, it was a man’s world, and that was unlikely to change, for men controlled every aspect of a woman’s life.
She knew that Papa had hoped for one of his children to follow in his footsteps and share his work. Neither Toby nor their elder brother, Harry, were interested. And why should Harry be? His letters were filled with new discoveries on the Continent, and he would one day inherit Papa’s estate and a tidy fortune. Their father had some years ago concluded, somewhat unfairly, that Helen, or Hedgehog, as he affectionately called her, an animal who curled up into a ball when upset, would not be his chosen companion. And as Alexander was still a baby, that left Diana, who resembled him most in personality. Unfortunately, Helen suspected her sister’s show of interest in ancient works generally coincided with something Mama had refused her, which Papa inevitably agreed to.
***
Jason realized Charlie had arrived home as soon as he put a foot in the door. Russell’s face split into a smile as he directed Jason to the kitchen. The sound of laughter emanated from below as Jason descended the stairs. Laughter had not been heard in this house for some time. He paused with a hand on the banister, realizing how much he had missed it.
Jason continued down the stairs. All very well, but Charlie required a strong hand, and before their father died, he had promised he’d see his scamp of a brother safely into adulthood.
Charlie sat at the scrubbed table, flirting outrageously with the kitchen maid while Cook placed before him a plate of thickly sliced ham, bread and butter, and a slab of fruit cake. The kitchen maid, who had been hanging on Charlie’s every word, caught sight of Jason, and turned red.
Charlie pushed back his chair and jumped up. “Jas! I was hoping I’d see you before I went out.” He thumped Jason’s back and enveloped him in a hug.
Jason grinned despite himself. “It is good to see you, Charlie.” He forced his features into a stern expression as he joined him at the table and picked up a piece of ham from his plate. Swallowing the tasty ham, he accepted a good strong cup of tea from Cook. “A pity it’s under such distressing circumstances. Where might you be dashing off to?”
“Came down on a stage coach. Met a fellow who’s going to the cockfights. Thought I might join him.”
At that, Jason tossed back the tea and put down the cup. “Finish up your food and then join me in the library, will you?” He climbed to his feet.
“Yes, of course, Jas. I believe I have time before—”
“And allow Molly to get on with her work.”
The girl flushed again and bowed her head over the peas she was shelling.
“Forgive me, milord.” Cook anxiously pleated her apron. “It’s just that I haven’t seen Mister Charles since last year when we was all back at Peyton Grove.”
Jason smiled. “Perfectly understandable, Cook. You have known my rascal brother since he was a lad. Of course, you enjoy seeing him again. As do I.”
He returned upstairs, thinking that Charlie could charm anyone in skirts, even the fearsome Mrs. Newbold, their housekeeper, who would no doubt soon succumb. But where was their sister?
When he tapped on Lizzie’s door, her maid opened it. “Lady Greywood is walking in the park with a gentleman, milord.”
“Which gentleman, Sally?” he asked in surprise. “And why didn’t you accompany her?”
“As it was merely a short stroll, my lord, my presence was not required.” The tone of her voice revealed her disapproval. Sally had been Lizzie’s lady’s maid when her beloved husband, Greywood, had suffered a mortal wound during a shooting accident. Since then Sally had become most protective of her. The maid hurried over to the dressing table and picked up a card, returning to hand it to him.
He glanced at the bold black script. “Who is this Baron Antonio Bianchi?”
“Her ladyship met him at the Covent Garden opera two nights ago. Lady Plummer introduced them.”
“I see.” Jason didn’t see at all. Since she’d come to London, Lizzie had repelled two highly suitable suitors. Jason had put that down to Greywood. Any man would find it difficult to measure up to her memories of her deceased husband. Admittedly, his sister was no green girl at twenty-five, but she was vulnerable and he’d protect her from hurt at any cost. He would find out more about this baron when she returned, but first, he had to talk to Charlie.
As he returned to the library, it occurred to him that he should get his own household in order before he tried to delve into other people’s lives. Damn Parnell, why couldn’t he leave him alone? The spymaster had stated flatly that he considered Jason to be sleepwalking through life since the war, and as he knew the reason why, Jason had no defense.
“If you’d set up your nursery I wouldn’t ask this of you, but rusticating in the country isn’t the life for any red-blooded male. And certainly not for one of Wellington’s finest spies. I, and Wellington, had expected you to go on to bigger things.”
Parnell had continued ruthlessly, using his talent for persuasion while insinuating he was doing Jason a favor to shake him out of his lethargy. “The informant fears for his life and has chosen not to divulge any details concerning his own situation or his name. But he asked particularly for you. A man he said he can trust.”
Jason had no idea who that could be.
“This will neither be a difficult mission, nor a long one,” Parnell had assured him. “Just a few inquiries and Whitehall will take it from there. And I know you wouldn’t wish to leave me in the lurch, knowing how shorthanded we are with our best men away from England.”
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Sleepwalking through life? Parnell was wrong there. Upon inheriting the title of earl, Jason gained an estate in Surrey along with this Mayfair townhouse and some solid investments, which paid the bills. Parnell was right about one thing. He did not intend to marry and inflict his moods on any hapless woman, and he was not interested in setting up a permanent mistress after Genevieve, who had proved to be every bit as demanding as any wife.
It was a comfortable existence, and he saw no reason to change it. He preferred to be at Peyton Grove, working with his steward to improve the estate and visiting his tenants. The rhythm of country-life suited him. And after years in the army, he preferred a busy active life. No lady would ever agree to such a dull existence. She would rightly want to come to London for the Season. And except for the cut and thrust of the House of Lords, the company of a few friends, or to visit a lady, London society didn’t hold a great deal of charm for him. He was only here now for Lizzie’s sake.
Jason found his brother stalking up and down the richly patterned Turkey carpet in the library. Charlie swung around. “I only have a few minutes, Jas. I have to keep a promise, as I’ve mentioned.”
Jason gestured to a wingchair, and his brother collapsed his lanky frame onto it. “What on earth happened? Why have you been sent down?”
Charlie’s green-eyed gaze dropped away, and he rubbed his chin. “I was discovered with a woman in my quarters.”
Drawing in a deep breath, Jason sought the leather chair at his desk. He tapped an irritated finger on the tooled leather desktop. “Devil take it! You know the rules, Charlie. And you’ve flouted them once too often.”
Charlie had the grace to look shamefaced. “It was a rescue mission, Jas. Didn’t turn out that way, though.”
“A rescue mission?”
“A young lady, Miss Amelia Groton, needed help. A friend of mine, Basil Wentworth, arranged to meet her in my rooms, to assist her, but someone tipped off the dean.”
“Why couldn’t he damned well meet her in his own rooms?”
“Because his roommate, Bosky Bellows, had come down with some nasty contagious malaise.”
Jason gritted his teeth. “Has your chum, so-called, been to the dean and confessed all?”
Charlie nodded gloomily. “He’s also been sent down.”
“Well, that’s a nice kettle of fish.”
“I can’t see the dean taking me back, Jas. But look on the bright side. I can keep you and Lizzie company. I’ll just need some transport. I thought a high-top phaeton. It will need to be yellow, too, as I thought I might join—”
“Stop right there.” Glaring at his young brother, Jason had begun to feel every year of his age and more.
Charlie slumped and fiddled with his cravat. “I’m sorry I’ve disappointed you.”
“It’s not a matter of disappointing me. It’s a matter of disappointing yourself, Charlie. You are almost twenty-one. You come into your inheritance at twenty-five, and then you can do what you damn well please. But until then I remain in charge. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Jas,” Charlie mumbled. He stopped tugging his cravat and despoiled the artful arrangement of his black curls. “What will you do?”
“I’ll write to some friends. I should be able to pull a few strings.”
“I expect you will.” Charlie’s mouth pulled down at the corners. “I suppose I won’t need the yellow carriage now, will I?”
“You will have one eventually. Good things come to those who wait.”
“I’ll be too old to enjoy it.” Charlie climbed to his feet. “I don’t suppose I could have some of the ready? I find myself at a stand after paying for the trip down from Oxford.”
“I consider cockfighting to be a shabby way for a man to toss away his blunt, but I see it will be useless to dissuade you.”
“I did promise, Jas.”
“I shan’t be subsidizing your allowance to pay for any gambling losses, so please try to keep your nose clean while here in London.” Jason reached for his cash box. Unlocking it, he counted out ten pounds.
“Traveling is an expensive business.” Charlie nodded his thanks and pocketed the money. “Especially if you have to escort a lady.”
Jason raised his head from locking the box. “You brought a lady with you to London?”
“I need to tell you about that.” Charlie was hurrying to the door. “I haven’t time now. I’ll explain later.”
Jason watched the door shut behind his brother. “Why does Parnell think my life is boring?” he asked the empty room. He had yet to deal with his sister, and that would require far more tact. At least tact was completely lost on Charlie.
Chapter Four
“A letter has arrived from your father.” Mama entered the breakfast room, where Helen, Diana, and Toby sat at the table with the appetizing smells of eggs, bacon, and kippers from the hot dishes wafting from the sideboard.
Helen stopped buttering toast. “Is Papa on his way home?”
“I believe so. His letter was dated a month ago when he was soon to board the ship for England. He had just returned to Alexandria after visiting the Temple of Hathor at Dendera. He has confirmed a theory and remains confident his research is sound.”
“Does he say what the theory is?” Having spread marmalade on her toast, Helen took a bite.
“He doesn’t, dear. There’s only so much room for your father’s large cursive on the page, and he seemed to be in a rush. He sends his love and is eager to hug his loved ones again.”
“How very like Papa,” Diana said with a laugh. “To send us exciting news and not tell us what it is.”
“We shall learn of it all in good time, Diana.” Mama paused as Fiske entered the room to provide hot water.
Helen doubted they’d learn much more from Papa. When he was at home, he closeted himself in his library and didn’t always see fit to tell them what took up so much of his time. But she longed to see him again. He had been gone for over two months, and their home just didn’t feel right without him. “How is Bart today, Mama, and Jinx?”
Mama shook her head, her eyes sad. “I had not wished to discuss this with you until after breakfast. Jinx has recovered and returned to his duties in the kitchen. But our footman is very ill indeed. The doctor called again early this morning. Brace yourselves, my dears, Bartholomew is not expected to live for much longer.”
“Oh, Mama!” Diana and Helen cried in unison.
“Poor Bart.” Toby’s voice wobbled with distress. He pushed away his half-eaten plate of bacon and eggs. “I went to see him yesterday, but was told he was sleeping.”
“I shall visit him this morning,” Mama said. “I hope to ask him what his last wishes might be. I’ll consult Father’s secretary when he arrives. Mr. Thorburn will need to deal with this matter in your father’s absence.”
“Can we say goodbye?” Helen asked with a sad wrench.
“If you really wish to, although it will be distressing, and I’m sure Bartholomew won’t expect it.”
“We want to, Mama,” Toby said.
“Very well. The doctor assures me he is not infectious.”
Helen glanced at her brother and sister while wiping away a tear. Bart had been a part of their household for years. He had always impressed her with his ability to perform his duties perfectly with only one arm.
***
Lizzie brought the sweet fragrance of sunlit gardens into the library with her arms full of aromatic flowers. Her cheeks were flushed, and there was a sparkle he had not seen for some years in her eye. “How agreeable to find you at home, Jason. These are for my sitting room. I mean to borrow that pretty blue and white vase on the mantelpiece.”
Jason rang for the footman as she unloaded the bunch onto a table. “Stay and talk to me,” he said, seizing the opportunity to speak to her.
When the footman appeared, she gave him the vase and filled his arms with the pink and white blooms. “Please tell Sally to fill the vase with water, arrange the flowers, and
set them in my sitting room, thank you, Henry.
“They’re so gorgeous I couldn’t resist buying them from a flower seller,” she said after the footman departed.
“Indeed. I do hope Henry doesn’t drop that urn. I believe it’s Sèvres.”
Jason disliked having to question her. But question her, he must. Greywood had left her very wealthy. Lizzie had been barely out of the schoolroom when she married in her first Season. She was of a trusting nature. Well, he was not. “You look very pleased with something, my dear. I doubt it’s the flowers alone.”
“Not entirely. A gentleman and I have had a pleasant promenade in the park.”
Jason shifted his shoulders. “Yes, Sally told me. I saw his calling card.”
Lizzie’s eyes widened. “Oh?”
Jason placed his compendium of Wordsworth poetry he read in his quiet moments on the side table. He was doubtful there’d be too many of those for a while as he turned in the wingchair to better view Lizzie on the sofa. “Who is this Baron Bianchi?”
“He has an estate in Florence. An ancient baronetcy. The baron is visiting London for a few months.”
“Why has he come to England?”
She smoothed her gray skirts and fixed him with a determined gaze. “Does he need a reason?”
“A man generally does,” Jason said gently.
“He is here on business.” She shrugged. “I knew you would be suspicious!”
“I believe it to be prudent. Until the facts are before me.”
She eyed him with a calculating expression. “You would not feel that way if he was an English gentleman.”
“I’d be no less so. It’s my duty to care for your interests, Lizzie.” Greywood had wished it, although Jason didn’t want to remind her of it. He rose and went to the drinks tray on the sideboard and poured himself a brandy. “A glass of Madeira? Or would you prefer me to ring for tea?”
“Madeira. I feel in need of some fortifying.”
Unmasking Lady Helen: The Kinsey Family (The Kinsey Family Series Book 1) Page 3
