Chapter Eighteen
The Willard’s double-drawing room was filled with guests. Letty had little expectation of finding Brandon there and was surprised when he entered, handsome in midnight blue and crisp white evening clothes. He spied her and nodded before turning to talk to his host and hostess.
Letty bit her lip, dismayed by how much she cared for him. She’d caught the signs of strain around his eyes. It was all she could do not to rush over and ask him what had happened since she had last seen him. There was so much she wanted him to tell her, and although she felt in some way entitled to a few crumbs after all she’d been through with him, she couldn’t expect him to reveal government secrets. She supposed she’d never learn from Brandon if Marston was imprisoned with the others, and certainly not here, where they would be overheard. But somehow, she must find a way to tell him about Pierse.
Arietta had taken one of the seats arranged around the pianoforte, and she was forced to join her. The elegant room decorated in burgundy wallpaper and gilt molding, was filled with the polite murmur of guests seating themselves and preparing to be entertained. Afterward, a supper was to be served, and tables set up in the salon for those who wished to play cards.
A hush came over the room as the pianist walked in and bowed to polite applause. He threw up the tails of his coat and sat before the pianoforte, massaging his hands. Mrs. Willard came to stand before them. “Miss Angela Willard, will this evening sing for you a lyric aria by Mozart.”
Angela was close to Letty in age. In a white muslin gown, her hair caught up with pearl combs, she stood demurely but quite confidently before them whilst the pianist played the introduction. Then, her hands clasped at her waist, she began to sing. Her pure voice soared and sent prickles down Letty’s spine. She sat transfixed as the beautiful music flowed over her. No one moved, no gentlemen’s feet shuffled, even the ladies’ fans stilled. When Miss Willard’s voice died away, there was silence, and then the audience erupted to their feet. They clapped and demanded an encore.
Miss Willard, flushed but composed, sang another by Mozart which was just as wonderful.
After the concert had ended, everyone rushed to congratulate her before slowly gravitating to the next room where supper was served.
Letty, still very much moved by Angela’s lovely voice, entered with Arietta. Her gaze, sweeping the room, failed to locate Brandon.
As they filled their plates with the sumptuous foods on offer, she spied him in the corridor outside. He talked to a blonde lady in black lace whose back was to Letty. She reached up a black glove to touch his cheek. He leaned over her, a strong emotion in his eyes, which Letty could not decipher, then he took the lady’s hand and tucked it into his arm, leading her through the open double doors.
It was Lady Fraughton.
Letty dropped the piece of lobster patty she held on her fork, back onto her plate. It didn’t help that she had no right to feel this sense of betrayal. Brandon owed her nothing. But somehow, it made her slightly sick to see him with her, while Fraughton was barely cold in his grave.
“Do you not care for the food, Letitia?” Arietta asked at her elbow.
Letty turned away from the unwelcome sight of Brandon and Lady Fraughton together. “It’s delicious, but I am still so moved by Miss Willard’s singing, I can barely manage a bite.”
“Why there’s Mr. Cartwright, Letitia,” Arietta murmured, gazing over her shoulder. “Don’t you wish to speak to him? He may have some news.”
Letty turned. Lady Fraughton had left him. Brandon now talked to Mr. Willard. Despite still deeply disapproving of Brandon’s flirtation, she must speak to him. “I should not like to interrupt them. Perhaps, when he is free.”
Arietta’s suggestion raised the opportunity for them to have a private conversation. Letty fought to bring her disappointment under control. She would not forget her manners again, and certainly not amongst the Willard’s elegant guests.
The chance arose after supper when many guests had gone into the salon to play cards. By accident or design, Brandon had wandered out onto the wrought-iron balcony to smoke a cheroot. With a glance to make sure Arietta was not within earshot, Letty slipped out to join him. She might not have long before others appeared with the same aim, which would make even a discreet conversation impossible on the narrow balcony.
“Miss Bromley. How nice to see you again,” he said politely, his blue eyes searching her face. “Are you fully recovered from your…ordeal?”
“Yes, Mr. Cartwright, but…”
“And your presentation went well?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said impatiently. “What has happened since I last saw you? Has Marston been found?”
“No need to worry about Marston anymore,” he said in a tone that invited no questions. “If you are planning to attempt to draw more information from me, you should go back inside.”
“There is something I must tell you.”
His gaze flickered to the lighted room visible through the French doors. “Yes?”
“Pierse came to see Arietta.”
He frowned, straightening his shoulders. “Right, that’s it, Miss Bromley. I want you out of there. I’ll find somewhere for you to stay.”
“I don’t see the need,” she said edgily, determined he not try his high-handed tactics on her. “I wasn’t able to hear what was said, but should he come again, I could try…”
“Let me stop you there, Miss Bromley.” Brandon flicked his cheroot into the garden below. “While I’m grateful for this information, I prefer you not to be there if he visits again.”
“I have nowhere to go,” Letty said, frustrated. “And I am perfectly safe where I am.”
“Has anyone told you that you are exceedingly stubborn?” He sighed and gazed at her. “If the Frenchman should show up before I am able to remove you, you are to leave the house, come directly here to Willard’s. They will take you in.”
“But nothing has happened to alarm me. I don’t see why…”
“Pierse could be dangerous, that’s why.”
Her face heated. “I expected you to be more grateful.”
“Letty, please!” He sighed. “Pierse will be dealt with. But I don’t want you involved. In fact, I insist that you stay out of it.”
“But what about Arietta?” She frowned. “She may be entirely innocent. I don’t wish her to be caught up unfairly in this. I consider myself in the best position to learn what their association might be.”
A couple wandered across the drawing room toward the French doors. “Haven’t you had enough excitement?” he asked in an undertone. “Must you place yourself in danger again? Do nothing, do you hear me? Find someone to take you in. It would be best if you go back to Cumbria should there be no alternative,” he added sharply. The couple stepped through the doors onto the balcony. “I must agree, Miss Willard’s performance was certainly a tour de force,” he said, and took her arm in his firm grip. “The night grows cool. Shall we go inside?”
As soon as she was able, Letty stepped away from him. “Please, don’t let me keep you from Lady Fraughton.”
He turned to look at her, his blue eyes hot with anger or frustration. She thought he might speak again, but he strode away.
When Letty gazed up at him, her plump bottom lip trembling, her enormous brown eyes flashing an accusation he could hardly stand there and deny, it almost brought him undone. He wanted to whisk her out of the room and kiss some sense into her. Fool that he was! The thought that she might be in danger again was intolerable. He went in search of Willard, but he was caught up with his niece within an enthusiastic circle of guests.
“That must have been an interesting conversation you just had with Miss Bromley,” Susan Fraughton said beside him.
“We discussed music. An interest of hers. She was much moved by Willard’s niece’s performance.”
Susan fluttered her lashes. “Did she offer to play or sing for you? A private performance? I would be wary, Cartwright. It co
uld be an excuse to trap you, although a novel one I grant you.”
“Haven’t we said everything that needs to be said, Lady Fraughton?” Not trusting her in this state, he drew her into a corner, aware she was unhappy and looking for someone to blame.
“I want to know what happened to Marston. He has not been seen in London since… Since Fraughton died. I expected him to come to see me. Did he kill Fraughton?”
“If you think he dispatched your husband so you and he might be together, you are mistaken.”
She narrowed her eyes. “As you refuse to furnish me with the facts, I must come to my own conclusions.”
“As there is nothing further I can tell you, you must excuse me.” He made to move around her.
“Cartwright?” Her eyes were pools of misery. “Did that letter I gave you lead to Fraughton’s death?”
Concerned she was not dealing with this well, Brandon gazed around at those who stood closest to them. No one appeared to be interested in their conversation. “That letter was of no use. You had nothing to do with any of this, but I’m profoundly sorry you’ve been hurt by it.”
He bowed, and as he left her side, caught sight of Letty watching him from the other end of the room. He hated the thought of her mixed up in this. Rejected it totally. He must find the means to get her away. Should Pierse pay another visit to Lady Arietta, they would be lying in wait for him. What were those two schemers planning? He’d find it easier to deal with twenty men than that young lady in her demure primrose muslin! He shrugged his tight shoulders as he made his way toward Willard who was now free, determined to persuade him to have Letty removed from the house.
Brandon considered writing to Letty’s uncle. But then dismissed it. It would take too long to get a response, and she would hate him for it. Short of kidnapping her, another way of removing Letty from that house must be found, and quickly.
Willard beckoned. “I could do with a brandy. Come to the library?” he asked when Brandon reached his side.
Brandon seated himself in one of the leather chairs. “I was surprised to find Arietta Kendall here.”
“She is well-liked and is a friend of my wife’s.”
“Your niece has a fine voice.” Brandon accepted a snifter of brandy with a nod of thanks. “Remarkable young woman. So poised for her age.”
“Angela avows that her interests lie with performing and not matrimony, but she has expressed a desire to meet you.”
Brandon smiled. “I relish the opportunity to praise her remarkable performance.”
“If you can tear yourself away from the two other ladies seeking your attention,” Willard said with a raised eyebrow.
“Susan Fraughton demands to know where Marston is.”
“But you told her nothing?”
“I thought it better not to. The news of his death will reach London by tomorrow. I doubt learning the manner in which he died would help her.”
“She expressed a wish to rid herself of Fraughton, didn’t she?”
Brandon eyed him with a frown. “Talk is cheap. The lady is troubled, Willard.”
Willard sighed. “Yes, of course she is. One gets hardened. That is why I want you to leave the spying game. It’s difficult to hang onto your integrity and even your sanity in this business.”
“You haven’t lost either, my friend.”
“I am not in the field, but even so….”
Brandon took a sip of brandy. “Miss Bromley has advised me that Pierse made a late-night visit to Lady Arietta.”
“Did he indeed? Slippery fellow, haven’t been able to find him. We’ll put a watch on her house and pick him up. Her, too.”
Brandon leaned forward. “I want to remove Miss Bromley before any action is taken.”
“That will alert Pierse that the house is watched. We’ll take care to see she is safe, move in as soon as he arrives. Is there somewhere she can go as soon as this business is over?”
“She says not,” Brandon said. “Her only relatives live in Cumbria.”
“Leave it with me. I’ll ask Mrs. Willard. Some of her friends are bringing out daughters this Season. I am sure someone will take her in.”
“Thank you. I’d be relieved. Miss Bromley suspects Lady Arietta has been duped. Removing the young lady will be as difficult as prying an oyster from its shell.”
Willard nodded sympathetically. “And perhaps you are not the one to do it, my good fellow.”
Brandon looked up from placing his empty glass on the table. “Meaning?”
“You have formed a tender for the young lady.”
“She is remarkable, I grant you. But I am not about to involve her in my disorderly life.”
“Then change your life.” Willard rose. “I must return to my guests or risk Veronica’s wrath.”
Brandon stood. “We men are greatly put upon.”
“You have experienced nothing yet. Wait until you have a wife and daughters.”
Brandon couldn’t conceive of such a life, but conceded it might be pleasant to have a family. As they left the room, he reminded himself of his father’s opinion of him as the family’s black sheep. He would do well to remember it.
Chapter Nineteen
At breakfast the next morning, Letty was forced to admit that her distaste at seeing Brandon with Lady Fraughton was not entirely due to the couple’s past association. She was jealous. When she’d seen others struggle with jealousy, she’d been a little contemptuous of them, sure that she would never succumb to such a lowly emotion herself.
And her heated response to seeing them standing close, and appearing so familiar with each other, disturbed her more than she liked to admit. She’d dismissed Brandon’s advice out of hand, when he expressed a genuine concern for her safety. She should have been grateful. Her parting comment was unforgiveable. If only she could have been more reasonable. If only he hadn’t been so…bossy.
But thinking on it now, she doubted it would have made a penny’s worth of difference. He wanted nothing from her but her promise to leave Arietta’s house. So, they had reached an impasse. He wanted her gone while she had no intention of abandoning her kind patroness until she was sure there was proof that Arietta was guilty of some crime.
“Did Cartwright tell you anything of interest?” Arietta inquired on the way home in the carriage.
“No, we only had a moment before some people came out onto the balcony. It’s unlikely he would have,” she said. “I doubt our paths will cross again.” This seemed to sustain Arietta for she’d lapsed into a thoughtful silence for the rest of the journey.
The next day, an article about Robert Marston’s untimely death while rock climbing, an apparent favorite sport of his, appeared in The Gazette, beneath an article about the corruption and the shady dealings plaguing London and the need for better policing.
Letty would love to know what involvement Brandon had in his death, but perhaps it was better not to know. The whole sordid business should be relegated to the past. Were they being watched? She rose from the table and walked to the breakfast room window which overlooked the small kitchen garden and the mews in the back lane. She could see no one about, except the groom she knew was one of Arietta’s washing the carriage. Annoyed with herself, she turned away. Brandon might well have told her if she’d kept a cool head and asked him. It would have been comforting to know that the house was being watched.
Arietta came into the room in her dressing gown. “What shall we do today? You decide. We might go to see the Egyptian artifacts at the British museum, or an exhibition at the art gallery.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the museum,” Letty said. “If you care to? I’m sure you have already been there.”
“There is always something new to see in the museum. So, we shall,” Arietta said with her genial smile. “I have a few letters to dispatch beforehand. Shall we go at eleven?”
Some hours later at the museum, they studied the mysterious hieroglyphic languages of the Rosetta Stone, which was discov
ered during Napoleon’s Egypt Campaign, before being brought to England. And displays of Egyptian friezes, ancient pottery, and stuffed wild animals.
The displays, as fascinating as they were, failed to prevent Letty’s thoughts from returning to Brandon. Surely, she was not being overly romantic to believe that from that first unfortunate beginning, there had been a strong link between them. And while she told herself it was Arietta’s demands that sent her after him, it was also a desire to know him, to understand him, and then, to be close to him.
His dictatorial manner, which made her wish to give him a good set down on more than one occasion, failed to dampen her desire for his company. It perplexed her, that despite what they’d been through, she felt safe when with him. Her heart beat faster when he came near, and when he smiled at her, she felt somehow special. It didn’t matter what he had done in his life. She instinctively knew him to be a good man. Had sensed it in their first meeting. She sighed as she stood sightlessly before a glass display filled with grotesque ceramic masks. It appeared she was a sad case. She admitted that she had tumbled into love with him and could gloomily foresee returning to Cumbria with a heavy heart after their last meeting had ended badly.
“You are in a brown study, today, my pet,” Arietta said. “Shall we have afternoon tea at the Piazza? It might brighten you up.”
Letty smiled. “Am I being tedious? I am sorry, and suppose I’m a little tired. I should like tea.”
“Early to bed tonight, Letitia. You have been through a lot. I don’t wish to see dark shadows beneath your eyes. We have yet to find a suitor you approve of, and I am determined not to send you back to Cumbria at the end of the Season without you becoming engaged. There’s Mrs. Royston’s picnic at Richmond Park, tomorrow, perhaps some charming gentleman will attend.”
Barons, Brides, and Spies: Regency Series Starter Collection Volume Two Page 37
