by Louise Allen
‘You are American?’ Now what was there in that to make him suddenly so alert, so focused?
‘Yes. My first visit.’
‘I wonder you chose to come here and not to Paris. The French are your allies, after all.’
‘We are not at war with Britain and I, for one, have no sympathy with the extremes of the French revolution.’
‘No? You are not in favour of democracy and the overthrow of a corrupt monarchy?’
‘I am not in favour of chopping off people’s heads on an industrial scale,’ I snapped, then realised that my tone was hardly that of the ditzy blonde I had been portraying. ‘It makes me feel quite ill,’ I added, fanning myself with one gloved hand. ‘But I hardly understand the subtleties of the politics involved.’ I was going to have nightmares over how easy it was to behave as men like him expected of a woman.
‘No, of course not.’ He seemed to relax. ‘The French reforms give scope for men of talent to rise according to their abilities and not according to aristocratic privilege. As does your own system, of course.’ He proceeded to lecture me on American governance, trade and industry while I ruminated on mansplaining across the centuries and wondered whether we were going to emerge from this shrubbery without me dotting him one with my parasol out of sheer irritation at his hypocrisy. The man was willing to accept his uncle’s patronage and influence, it seemed, but not tolerate the same thing in anyone else.
‘Do you know many of your fellow countrymen in London?’ he asked casually, changing the subject.
‘The Ambassador, of course – but purely socially. Otherwise, no.’ Now why did I get the sense that he was disappointed? ‘Have you met many Americans?’
‘No, you are my first,’ Reece admitted, making it sound somehow lascivious.
I didn’t want to be his first anything so I put on my best deeply interested expression and started to talk about him. ‘And what occupies your time, Mr Reece? Are you a gentleman of leisure?’
‘I work at the Home Office.’
I took my cue from his tone. ‘That must be so important and challenging! I suppose you have a degree and all manner of qualifications.’
‘A degree from Oxford, naturally. But as for the rest, well, ability and the right attitude are what one needs.’ He began to edge a little closer, pushing at the parasol with his thigh until it touched mine.
Time to be going, I think. ‘You would have known that poor young man who hanged himself. Mr Coates. So tragic.’
He was tense again. He really did need to work on his body language if he was going to find himself in any tricky situations. ‘He should never have been employed, obviously an unstable person.’
‘You think so? But surely grief or great pressure can drive even the most solid person to despair?’
‘Coates was not the solid gentleman he pretended to be,’ Reece said with a sneer.
‘Really? Of course, you would know all about it.’
‘He was a man of unsavoury habits, not at all the sort of thing one could discuss with a lady.’
So, you knew. And how was that, given that his colleagues in the same office gave not the slightest hint?
‘Dreadful.’ I couldn’t blush to order but I looked away, attempting to look shocked. It was a mistake.
The next thing I knew Elliott Reece had his arms around me and was trying to kiss me.
‘Let me go this instant!’ I didn’t have to act to sound properly outraged. He had hands everywhere and was planting open-mouthed kisses on my neck and the side of my face as I pulled away from him. ‘Stop that!’
‘Stop acting coy with me. You don’t linger in the shrubbery with a man you do not know unless you want some of this.’ This appeared to involve his hand on my left breast.
I gave a fleeting thought to whether the knife had been folded properly, decided I didn’t care, grabbed the reticule by its strings and swung it. The thump as it landed over his ear was most satisfactory.
‘You little bitch!’ Reece scrambled backwards and fell off the end of the bench. The reticule didn’t look dangerous, but it contained a notebook, the knife and all the rest of my odds and ends and must have hurt.
I stood up, took a firm hold on the bag, picked up my parasol and jabbed him in the sternum with it as he tried to haul himself upright. He sat down with a yelp.
‘You, sir, are no gentleman and certainly have no right to condemn others for their behaviour. You are a disgrace, a lout, a – ’
I was still in full rant but the sound of applause made me break off. I half turned, keeping a wary eye on Reece, and saw a woman I recognised. She was, thankfully, alone.
‘Lady Turnham.’
‘I saw you vanish round here and thought to have a chat but it took me a while to get away from Lady Westerham. She can talk the hind leg off a donkey and happens to be my husband’s terribly wealthy godmother, so one cannot simply swan off, however much one might wish to. Anyway, I am so glad I got here in time to see that magnificent blow. Who is this nasty little worm?’
‘Mr Elliott Reece, an ornament to the Home Office,’ I said, prodding him again when he tried to get to his feet.
‘So it is. I didn’t recognise you grovelling on the grass, Mr Reece. I do hope you don’t think to spread any nasty gossip about this. My husband, Lord Turnham, has rather more influence in government than I think you do, if you take my point?’ She smiled sweetly at him and he dropped his gaze and made no more attempts to stand.
‘Do come and join me for a cup of tea, Miss Lawrence.’
‘Thank you, Lady Turnham,’ I said, when we had rounded the bush and were once more amongst the crowd of guests. ‘I certainly didn’t go in there with him – I thought I was taking a short cut.’
‘Call me Chloe. And you are Cassandra, if I remember rightly?’ She waved to several people as we passed but kept pressing on towards the refreshments. A woman after my own heart. ‘Lady Liverpool knows how to throw a party.’ She took two champagne flutes from a tray a footman was holding as we passed and gave one to me. ‘Bother tea, this will do you more good. And some of the salmon mousse and the delicious cheese puffs that are her chef’s speciality. Look, here is a free table.’
She sank down in an elegant flutter of amber silks and gestured to a footman. ‘More champagne, if you would, and a large plate of your very choicest savouries. There now, we can be comfortable,’ she added as the footman strode off.
I thanked her, took a reviving gulp of fizz, sneezed and pulled my handkerchief out of the reticule. Garrick’s sinister knife tumbled out too.
‘Goodness,’ Chloe said, prodding it with one fingertip. ‘What a very exciting life you seem to lead, Cassandra.’
‘It’s an American habit,’ I said, improvising wildly. ‘Grizzly bears.’
‘In Boston?’
I made a rapid decision. Chloe was bright, unconventional, had nothing to do with the Home Office – and I was in dire need of a female friend. ‘My cousin, Lord Radcliffe, was attacked on Friday. Someone tried to kill him.’
‘Because of the two bodies you discovered? I read about the inquests in the papers.’
‘We didn’t discover the first one exactly, but yes, because of that. Doctor Talbot was definitely murdered and we suspect that Mr Coates was driven to suicide, probably by blackmail. And they knew each other.’
‘Was Talbot blackmailing Coates and Coates killed him, then hanged himself?’
‘No, the time of the deaths rules that out.’ I broke off while the footman, accompanied by a colleague with a bottle of champagne in a cooler, covered the table in plates. I was even more impressed by Chloe if she could conjure this up with just a smile.
‘So why are you involved in investigating?’ She waved the men away with a word of thanks and topped up our glasses.
‘Mr James Franklin, Lord Radcliffe’s brother, knew both men socially. He has a strong sense of justice and felt that, unless we looked into it, whoever was responsible would escape detection.’
&nbs
p; ‘And Lord Radcliffe is a close cousin?’
‘No. Distant and, well, not to put too fine a point on it, my branch was on the wrong side of the blanket some way back. The family, other than Lord Radcliffe and Mr Franklin, does not recognise mine. Their mother, for example, has no idea that I am in London, or that I even exist.’
There were so many holes in that explanation that you could have driven a London bus – or a stagecoach – through it. Like, what was I doing in London, how come Luc and James knew and accepted me, what was I doing involved in a murder investigation?
Every one of those questions, and probably half a dozen more, had clearly occurred to Chloe as I was speaking, but she merely nodded. ‘Very exciting. So, how can I help?’
I stared at her and then said words I never thought I’d hear myself utter. ‘But what would your husband say?’
She collapsed into giggles. ‘I can wind Armistead around my little finger, the darling.’
‘That’s Lord Turnham? The family name, not his first name? I’m sorry, only we are rather less formal where I come from.’ To say nothing of when I came from.
‘The poor darling was christened Augustus and a more unlikely Augustus I never saw.’ She leaned over and whispered, ‘I call him Gus in moments of… Our closer moments, but that would never do in public. Now how can I assist?’
I demolished three cheese puffs while I thought. They were that lethally tempting size – so delicious that you had to have more and so tiny that you didn’t notice how many you were eating.
‘We did wonder if one of Doctor Talbot’s patients became rather too attached to him and a jealous husband took extreme measures. We had heard that last year one gentleman did go so far as to utter threats.’
‘That would be Mr Archibald. He is insanely jealous, which is all his own fault for marrying a pretty little air-head twenty years younger than he is. It certainly isn’t him. They have got him safely installed in a private asylum after he attacked his own valet last month under the impression that the man was taking liberties.’
‘Can you think of anyone else?’
Chloe shook her head. ‘What if it was one of his patients who killed him? Now, why would they do that?’ she asked rhetorically. ‘Let me see. To prevent him telling her husband or father some secret? Or because she had an affaire with Talbot and then he spurned her?’
‘It wouldn’t be that – he was, er, not interested in women that way, apparently.’
‘How do you know?’ She didn’t seem shocked, merely curious.
I had to be careful not to even hint that James knew all too well what Talbot’s sexuality was. ‘His valet told us.’
‘How interesting. Well, that rules that out.’
‘You know all the ladies who might have been amongst his patients. Would you be able to ask around, see what gossip there might be? I really don’t know anyone well enough to ask such intimate questions.’
‘I can certainly do that. Best not to let anyone know that he was otherwise inclined, don’t you think?’
‘Definitely.’ I chased down a lobster patty with some champagne and began to feel rather more optimistic about that element of the investigation. Then a shadow fell across our little table and I looked up to see Luc looking decidedly like the Earl of Radcliffe and not at all like my lover.
‘Cousin Cassandra. I have been looking for you for some time.’
Oh hell. We had agreed to stay within sight of each other.
‘There is no need to worry, Lord Radcliffe,’ Chloe said with a bright smile. ‘Miss Lawrence is more than capable of seeing off rakes in the shrubbery – even without my assistance.’
‘What?’ Now Luc had gone from merely aristocratically frosty to positively volcanic.
Chapter Fourteen
‘Elliott Reece,’ I explained before Luc completely lost it.
‘In the shrubbery?’
‘I took a wrong turning, he followed me and it seemed like a good opportunity to have a chat.’
‘A chat.’ His gaze flickered to Chloe.
‘Lady Turnham knows we are investigating the two deaths and is going to help me by finding out if there is any gossip about Doctor Talbot. And, of course,’ I added hastily before Luc could spontaneously combust, ‘she won’t say anything about what we discovered from the Doctor’s valet, about his lack of interest in women.’
‘Do please join us, Lord Radcliffe.’ Chloe gestured towards a spare chair. That was good tactics, getting someone who is angry to sit down often helps diffuse the situation.
Luc was too much the gentleman to refuse. He took the chair with a half-bow of acknowledgment and accepted the glass of champagne I pushed towards him with a tight smile. ‘You were telling me about Reece.’
‘He became rather free with his hands. I hit him with my reticule, he fell off the bench and then Lady Turnham arrived and threatened him with her husband’s influence with the Administration if he spread any unpleasant gossip.’
‘I see. And where is he now?’
‘I have no idea – and don’t you dare rush off and challenge him to a duel. I absolutely will not forgive you if you get yourself killed.’
Chloe gave a small, but ladylike, snort of amusement, Luc narrowed his eyes at me. ‘Whatever gives you the idea that I would be the one who came off worst?’
‘Fine.’ I snapped back. ‘You will kill him and then where will we be?’
‘Your honour – ’
‘My honour does not depend on you risking your life or liberty. I knocked him to the ground in front of a witness. He’s been laughed at, humiliated and very effectively threatened.’
‘You are under my protection and my honour – ’
‘I will have to ask you to make that sacrifice for me,’ I said, looking him straight in the eye. ‘You recall what you were so concerned about the other evening? Do you want to risk that happening?’
I saw that sink in. Luc couldn’t be certain I could get home if he was not here at this end of whichever wormhole through time and space was pulling me back and forth. However good he was he could not be certain that an unlucky bullet might not take him, whatever the skill of his opponent.
‘Only for you,’ he said, then seemed to recall that we were not alone and turned to Chloe. ‘And I must thank you for assisting my cousin.’
‘She needed very little help.’ She looked across the lawn and waved. ‘And there is my husband wondering where I have got to. I will leave the remaining cheese puffs for you, Lord Radcliffe. If I should garner any useful gossip, how can I reach you, Cassandra?’
‘I have a house in Hill Street, but I am not properly moved in yet. Perhaps a note to Lord Radcliffe at Albany would be safest?’
‘Of course.’ I had a sneaking suspicion that she knew perfectly well where I was staying and that the relationship between Luc and myself was anything but cousinly, but she would not betray it, I was certain.
When she had gone Luc sat down again, slumped against the back of the chair and reached for the champagne bottle. ‘You terrify me.’
‘And you terrify me.’ I poured more wine, keeping the bottle out of his reach when he immediately tried to take it over. ‘We have huge cultural differences, vast differences in how we see the world. I don’t want to worry you or hurt you or confuse you and I know you feel the same about me.’ We looked at each other in silence for a while, then I pushed one of the platters towards him. ‘Have a cheese puff, in the absence of chocolate they do help.’
He took two, chewed, nodded. ‘I must set Garrick on to stealing the recipe. Why did you confide in Lady Turnham?’
‘Because I need help with the ladies – I don’t know them well enough to ask intimate questions. And she saw the knife Garrick gave me, it fell out when I took out my handkerchief, so I needed a reason for carrying it. She knows I had some involvement with the cases – everyone does after the newspaper reported on the inquests. She doesn’t know Coates’s secret or that James knew him as a friend. And she’s brigh
t and amusing and independent.’
I wanted to reach out across the table and take his hand but I knew I couldn’t, not in the middle of this throng of people. ‘Are we all right now, you and me?’
‘Yes.’ Luc smiled. ‘Let’s go and find out what James has found out. If he’s simmered down enough to have done any investigating, that is.’
‘Oh Lord – we should be watching his back as well and you got distracted by my problems.’
‘He’s over there.’ Luc nodded to where a group were lounging on the stone rim of a large ornamental pool. ‘He’s found some of Sir Thomas Reece’s young men. And there’s Elliott Reece.’ He was halfway out of his seat before I could grab his arm.
‘Don’t go over there looking like murder. He doesn’t know James has anything to do with me. Or you, come to that.’
‘True. But I want to hear what he says. If we walk around the lawn that way we can get close to James and you will be hidden by that urn on the stand, the one with the seat next to it.’
The seat was empty and I saw many of the ladies around the garden getting to their feet and making for a marquee at the far end. The sound of a string ensemble tuning up drifted towards us. Many of the younger men, and certainly the group around the pool, took no notice.
We took our refilled glasses with us and drifted casually past flowerbeds and knots of guests, many of whom greeted Lucian. He acknowledged them but didn’t stop or introduce me and we arrived at the urn before anyone took the cast iron seat next to it. The urn was vast, the kind I remembered seeing at Versailles, and it had been planted with ivy that cascaded down in great sprays that shielded me from the men just a few feet away but allowed me to hear and see them through the foliage.
Luc sauntered round and leaned his hip on the stone surround next to James. I saw him say something in his brother’s ear and James half-turned and smiled in my direction.
The four men nearest me were talking about racing, arguing about blood lines until my eyes crossed with boredom. The disagreement was fuelled by the wine they were sharing from two bottles and their voices were loud enough to prevent me hearing what was being said by the main group where Reece, Luc and James were.
