The carriage jerked to a halt and the door opened quickly. Wilfred stepped down and turned to help both of the ladies down. He offered his arm to his mother just as Baron Nairn arrived and offered to his sister.
‘Lady Caroline, I’m delighted to arrive at the same time. May I escort you inside?’ he asked with his usual aplomb.
‘Thank you, my Lord. It would be an honour to accept your company.’ Caroline murmured with a coy smile, before resting her gloved hand on his forearm.
Footmen arrived to take cloaks and the major domo introduced them loudly and clearly.
‘The Duchess of Dovedale, the Earl of Buxton, Baron Nairn and Lady Caroline de Lacey.’
‘Why do I come last?’ Caroline said with a pout.
‘Because we all outrank you, my dear!’ Howard said with a dashing smile, ‘even a lowly Baron like me has more rank than a Duke’s daughter.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘A woman’s lot and all that!’ he finished and patted her hand.
‘So if I was an Earl in my own right, I would outrank you?’ she ventured and received a winning smile from the Baron.
‘You would indeed, Lady Caroline.’
Wilfred saw his mother and sister deposited with the other chaperones and charges. Howard smiled engagingly at all the tittering girls as they asked about beverages and soon they were stood in the refreshment room waiting for brandy and lemonade.
Wilfred’s first brandy didn’t even touch the sides as he tilted the glass back and gulped the contents down his throat.
‘Something wrong?’ Howard asked as the last time he’d seen Wilfred guzzle brandy had been after his father had tried to arrange a marriage for him and Wilfred had lost it completely and thrown his life into chaos.
Wilfred almost choked on his brandy in his efforts to blurt out his troubles. ‘I’ll say. That blasted Duke has tried to shackle me to…’ he looked cautiously about the room, ‘…Imogen Allen!’ he whispered in horror.
‘Good God!’ Howard blurted then up ended his glass too. ‘She’s got a face like a horse!’ He sniggered. ‘So what did you tell his graceness?’
‘I told him no.’ Wilfred admitted immediately.
Howard raised an eyebrow. ‘Just that?’ he gasped. ‘No?!’
Wilfred smiled then. It was a full on beaming smile that Howard hadn’t actually seen for years, at least not since they left Cambridge. ‘Just that. No!’ Wilfred laughed then. ‘I thought he was going to have an apoplexy!’
‘Didn’t he ask you why?’ Howard asked indignantly.
‘No, only Glyndebourne did. So I told him that I had already selected the next Countess of Buxton and would be spending the next year courting her.’
‘Lucille Hastings, by any chance?’ Howard ventured.
‘Yes,’ Wilfred sighed. ‘She is so beautiful and I’m afraid I’m already in love with her.’
‘That’s a sad admission, Will.’ Howard said with a solemn shake of his head. ‘Still, I’m glad that at last you know how I feel. Waiting for Eleanor is torture!’
‘You have to win her affections, Howard. I will not just give you my sister.’ Wilfred frowned as he accepted a new glass of brandy.
A couple of youngbloods arrived at the table and indicated their choice of spirit. One said to the other in a particularly loud voice ‘Did you hear about Bassett?’ The other one shook his head. ‘Popped his clogs, old man.’ The First one finished.
‘Really?’ The second one asked in surprise. ‘So who gets the title?’
‘I believe it goes to a nephew or some such, Bassett never had any children according to my mother.’ He sniggered. ‘Probably couldn’t stand the sight of his wife.’
‘How did he die?’ the second asked with curiosity.
‘Fever, I believe.’ The first one sighed. ‘Still he’d had a good innings and was well into his dotage.’
Wilfred and Howard looked at each other. ‘Poor Lucy.’ Wilfred muttered. ‘To lose your uncle so soon after your father, it must be difficult.’
‘Robert will handle it.’ Howard said calmly. ‘He was excessively capable while we were at Cambridge.’
‘I have no doubt the old Earl trained him well. Lucy said that Robert had been with him all summer.’
‘Maybe he had been ill for a long time.’ Howard ventured solemnly. ‘Still, let’s get back to your mother and sister with their drinks before anything untoward happens.’ Wilfred gathered a couple of glasses of lemonade and they sauntered out into the ballroom.
As usual, this affair was the height of decadence as the hosts wealth was displayed tastelessly everywhere. Wilfred picked his way through the throng of people shouting at each other to be heard above the noise of a hundred voices. He approached the seats where he had left his mother only to find them empty. He looked at the Dowager Countess of Wessex and enquired after his mother.
‘Lady Evangeline is dancing with Lord Gilbert and Lady Caroline is dancing with the Duke of Markham.’ She said haughtily and flicked her closed fan in the direction of the dance floor.
Wilfred looked across in horror to see Caroline firmly in the Duke’s embrace. He couldn’t storm onto the dance floor and yank her away from him so he would just have to wait for the dance to finish.
‘Why is Caroline waltzing with Markham?’ Howard whispered in Wilfred’s ear. ‘Didn’t you tell her how dangerous he is?’
‘I don’t know and yes I did, respectively.’ Wilfred replied absently, his mind on distances and probabilities. ‘In all likelihood Markham is going to take her out on the terrace.’
‘Then let us be in the vicinity of the terrace doors.’ Howard said firmly.
Both men strolled laconically over to the terrace doors as if idling around the room. Wilfred saw Caroline and the Duke almost immediately as they swirled around with the rest of the dancers and the two men took up sentinel posts either side of the terrace doors.
Wilfred watched Caroline as she was twirled and seduced by Markham’s notorious charm. She smiled, laughed and simpered, as every young girl does when the Markham charm is directed at them. Wilfred scowled as Markham pulled her a little closer, inappropriately closer to whisper in her ear. Caroline laughed and blushed at whatever Markham said as the music came to an end. Markham bowed to Caroline, who curtsied in return and then Markham offered her his arm and turned her immediately for the terrace doors. Neither party saw Wilfred until he spoke.
‘Going somewhere with my sister, Markham?’ Wilfred said coldly. Caroline flushed a deep red from her throat to her hairline.
‘I was…’ Caroline started.
‘I wasn’t asking you Caroline.’ Wilfred cut across her, making her squirm, ‘I was asking the Duke.’
‘Your sister became overly hot and I offered to accompany her onto the terrace.’ Markham said evenly.
‘Well, that’s not necessary as I’m here.’ Wilfred said and turned his devastating smile on. He held out his arm. ‘I can see to my sister’s need for fresh air.’ He lifted Caroline’s hand from Markham’s arm and placed it on his own, putting his hand firmly over the top. ‘Thank you for your assistance.’ Wilfred said in dismissal. The Duke looked from Wilfred to Caroline and even she could see the rage in his eyes as he courteously bowed and thanked her for the dance. As he moved away Howard arrived. ‘Fetch my mother please, Howard?’ Wilfred said and turned for the terrace.
Out on the terrace, Caroline became a spitting feline. ‘How dare you embarrass me in front of a Duke!?’ she shouted. ‘He was only offering to accompany me out for some fresh air.’ She tried to yank her hand away from him, but he clutched her wrist so hard she yelped.
‘I don’t care how many men I embarrass you in front of. I would rather embarrass us both than find you beaten, bloody and raped of your innocence behind a bush in the garden.’ Wilfred shook her arm. ‘Enough Caroline. I told you to stay away from Markham and next time I see you dance with him I shall drag you kicking and screaming from the ball!’
‘You wouldn’t dare!’ she gasped.
‘What is going on?’ A bewildered Evangeline de Lacey asked as she arrived on the terrace with Howard. Wilfred’s head jerked around to look at her coldly.
‘Where were you, Madam?’ Wilfred demanded, ‘when your daughter was dancing with Markham?’
The silence was quite profound for a moment as Evangeline turned her attention to her daughter. ‘You danced with Markham?’ she demanded, her voice rising incrementally until it was almost a screech.
‘He was just taking her out to the terrace when I managed to stop him.’ Wilfred stated. He looked fiercely at his mother. ‘I suggest you explain what rape means before this stupid girl ends up his next victim!’
Howard could see Wilfred trembling with rage and fear and placed his hand on his shoulder. ‘Come now, Will, settle down. You were able to stop him, so Caroline is now safe.’ He saw Wilfred close his eyes, knowing he was seeing Harriet Saunders in his mind’s eyes. ‘I would like to ask Caroline for a dance.’ He turned his beaming smile on her. ‘Shall we?’ he asked and offered his arm.
Caroline was looking at her brother with apprehension, for a change, as it was apparent that Wilfred was very angry with her. ‘It was only a dance.’ She whispered and he opened his eyes.
‘But it wouldn’t have stopped there.’ Wilfred said coldly. ‘And I wouldn’t want to find you in the garden in the same state as Harriet Saunders.’ He took her hand, pulled her into his arms and held her against his chest, gently holding the back of her head. ‘I will kill him if he so much as touches you again.’ He whispered and rested his cheek on the top of her head.
‘I won’t do it again.’ Caroline whispered. She was actually horrified that her brother was so angry over just a dance, but then she recalled his warning before the season started and she realised that she was a fool to ignore it. ‘I promise.’ She pledged.
Wilfred released his strangle hold on her and kissed her softly on the forehead. ‘Good. That would make me very happy.’
‘It’s not that we object to you dancing with him,’ Evangeline said stupidly, ‘but you should never be alone with him.’
Wilfred sighed deeply. ‘I would prefer her just to stay away from him.’
‘I promise.’ Caroline said firmly and stroked his face. ‘I can see that you are upset over this, so I shall abide by your wishes.’ He nodded.
‘Shall we?’ Howard said lightly and offered his arm again. Caroline placed her hand on his arm with a wan smile and they returned to the ballroom.
‘Where were you?’ Wilfred asked coldly of his mother.
‘I was dancing with Lord Gilbert.’ She said just as coldly, ‘not that it’s any of your business who I dance with.’
‘You are supposed to be her chaperone, mother, not flirting with your beau!’
‘How dare you!’ Evangeline spluttered.
‘Maybe I should just make father attend these functions with you.’ He was surprised to see Evangeline blanch, ‘and then you would be watching your daughter instead of dancing.’ He held out his arm and escorted his red faced mother back into the ballroom, deposited her in her chair and stood over her while Caroline was dancing.
It seemed that the rest of Lady Wentworth’s ball would pass without incident, but some things are always too good to be true and it was rather unfortunate for Lady Caroline de Lacey that she happened to be standing near the terrace doors with Lady Helena Fortescue as the battered and bloodied Miss Edith Parfitt stumbled through the terrace doors and grabbed at Caroline, before collapsing to the floor. Caroline’s scream stilled the sound of a hundred voices and the men around them let out coarse expletives as they rushed to help the poor girls. Lady Wentworth fainted, along with half the female population, but Caroline could not stop her scream or take her eyes off the battered woman lying at her feet. Lady Helena Fortescue was staring, bug-eyed at the blood staining the front of Caroline’s pristine white ball gown
‘Give me a shawl or blanket or something!’ Baron Nairn yelled as he tried to get his jacket off. Wilfred yanked the silk off Howard’s shoulders and carefully draped it over the partially nude girl while a footman fetched a sheet or blanket.
‘Is there a Doctor in the house?’ Wilfred bellowed as he pulled Caroline into his arms to stifle her screams and Sir Francis Peabody approached.
Mr. Thomas Parfitt, the victim’s father arrived then and it took a number of the men standing around to restrain him from immediately seeking out and killing the Duke of Markham, but of course Markham, being a prudent man, had already left the venue.
‘She obviously has no broken limbs, or she couldn’t have got in here from the garden.’ Sir Francis muttered, ‘but I think we should call your carriage and take her home to deal with the cuts and abrasions.’ He said to Mr. Parfitt. ‘Is your wife here?’
Thomas was staring down at his beloved daughter. ‘No.’ He said distantly. ‘Her mother died five years ago.’ And at that moment her chaperone, one Aunt Celia arrived and fainted dead away.
Lady Wentworth’s first ball had started the little season off with a bang and all the nobles present knew that the Duke of Markham would just continue to rape and abuse any female he cared to unless something was done about it.
As they climbed into the ducal carriage, Caroline was very quiet, almost catatonic as Wilfred lifted her into the coach and helped her to sit down. As the carriage jerked into motion she looked up at Wilfred with her face ashen and huge eyes full of horror. ‘That could have been me.’ She whispered.
‘Yes, Caroline.’ Wilfred said evenly. ‘That is why I asked you to stay away from Markham.’
Her eyes lost focus at whatever she was seeing in her mind’s eye. ‘He would have done that to me earlier in the evening.’ Slowly she started to rub her hands up her arms as if she was chilled to the bone. ‘I saw the rage in his eyes as you told him he was no longer required.’
‘Yes.’ Wilfred whispered ‘and that is nothing to what Harriet Saunders looked like.’
He left Caroline to his mother and sister and walked around to Green Street. He felt appalled and horrified that Markham should just pick another girl.
Harriet had retired, as it was rather late, but she still came downstairs to see him. She was shocked at the ashen colour of his face and the horror in his eyes. ‘Wilfred? What has happened?’ she asked and then ordered tea from her butler. Taking his hand she led him into the drawing room and made him sit down. She went to the sideboard and poured a large brandy for him. She gave him the drink and then sat on the settee and waited. Haltingly, Wilfred explained the events at the Wentworth ball as Harriet sat and fumed, occasionally replenishing his glass. ‘Will no one stop this madman, before he kills somebody?’ she asked the air.
‘I suppose not.’ Wilfred said calmly. ‘Most peers are afraid of his political power, so he’s almost untouchable.’
‘Nobody should be above the law, even the King.’ She sighed, ‘but I understand what you mean. You men are actually afraid to take him on in case you lose.’ Wilfred nodded sadly as he sipped his brandy. ‘Well in that case, I think we women should handle it. He can’t exactly destroy our political careers, now can he?’ She went to her escritoire and pulled vellum, ink and a quill out.
‘What are you doing?’ Wilfred asked.
‘Making a list of all Markham’s victims,’ she said coldly, ‘starting with me.’ It was quiet for some time and the only sound in the room was the scratch of Harriet’s quill and the crackle of the fire. ‘I wonder that Bow Street haven’t caught him red handed.’ Harriet murmured as she sanded her list and re-read it.
‘I’d be surprised if Bow Street even knew about him, but the Duke has an uncanny knack of knowing when he is being observed.’ Wilfred replied.
‘In that case, perhaps we need to dish out some retribution or maybe even punishment for his sins.’ Harriet said quietly, making the hairs on the back of Wilfred’s neck rise.
‘What are you going to do?’ he asked sibilant
ly.
‘It’s better if you don’t know.’ She said with the kind of smile that would make his blood run cold, if he was tied to her bed!
‘You’re right! I don’t want to know.’ Wilfred lurched to his feet as a sweat broke out over his forehead. ‘I think I should be going.’ She accompanied him to the hallway and held his hat while Bennet helped him on with his cloak. ‘There is an old saying,’ Wilfred said softly, ‘that “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned” and I have no intention of delving into your affairs, Miss Saunders.’ He took the hat and smiled. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Goodnight, Wilfred and next time could you at least call in the daytime? I wouldn’t want my neighbours to think that I’m your mistress.’
‘Of course.’ He said politely and bowed deeply. ‘Until next time.’
Chapter Five
November 1812
Lucy stood at the grave and looked at the ornate headstone that Robert had commissioned from a local stone mason. It was fairly bland, only a small curlicue decorated the crest of the domed top and it just stated the facts of life and death.
Here lies the 8th Earl of Bassett,
Lord Rupert Sebastian Hastings,
Pride and Retribution Page 8
