Lord Deverill's Secret

by Amanda Grange

  “By which you mean it was a foolish fancy that cost him dear,” she said with a sigh. “Poor Rupert.” Her brow wrinkled. “But if he’d been gambling too freely, wouldn’t I have found a large debt that had to be paid when he died?” It had not occurred to her before, but if her brother had taken his horse out in the dark because he had gambled on setting a new record for riding to London overnight, then he must have lost the bet. Yet she had found no evidence of a debt. “I don’t want to have one come on me unexpectedly.”

  “Probably won the bet,” said Mr. Goddard. “Bet a fortune on it raining in the morning. Went home. Realized it was a stupid thing to do. No way of knowing what the weather’s going to do. Couldn’t sleep. Drank a bottle or two. Wrote to you. Said he’d done something terrible. Expected to lose a deal of money. Then heard the rain. Spirits lifted. Screwed the paper up and stuffed it in his breeches pocket. Went outside to look at the rain. Pouring down. Won the bet. Forgot about the letter.”

  “Yes, I suppose it must have been something like that,” said Cassandra.

  It was now a year since her brother had written it, and as she could not find a trace of anything terrible having happened she supposed there must be nothing to it after all.

  “Do you know why he went out riding at night?” she asked.

  Mr. Goddard looked uneasy, then said, “Probably had an assignation.”

  She hesitated, then said, “Do you know why Lord Deverill was with him?”

  “No,” he said guilelessly. “Was Deverill with him? I didn’t know.”

  Cassandra realized he would tell her nothing further, and small wonder: no gentleman would want to talk of such things to a lady. But at least now she knew that Rupert had done nothing truly terrible.

  They reached the side of the track. Maria and Harry had overtaken them and were already there. Justin and Freddy were not far away. Justin had been joined by a pretty young lady with fair hair and dimples, dressed in a fetching bonnet lined with ruched silk, and a matching green silk gown. Next to the young lady was her complacent mama. It wasn’t only Miss Kerrith who had set her cap at him, Cassandra realized.

  As she thought it, she felt a stab of jealousy. She told herself not to be absurd. Justin had no feelings for her, and she had no right to have any feelings for him. But why then had he kissed her? asked a small voice inside.

  She turned her attention away from him deliberately and bowed to several people she had met at the assembly. Then the horses began to gather.

  “Fancy any of them?” asked Freddy, turning to Cassandra. “Grey’s going well this season. Belongs to Lord Povington. Ridden by his groom. Favour it myself.”

  Cassandra interested herself in the horses, and remarked that she liked the looks of a neat black with a white star on its forehead.

  “Put a wager on for you,” said Mr. Kingsley. Wagers were being made up and down the race course. “Still think the bay will do it myself, but never contradict a lady.”

  He went over to a nearby booth and made a small wager for each of them, then returned to Cassandra’s side. He did it with some difficulty, for the crowd was growing denser by the minute.

  Cassandra cast her eye along the course. It was a demanding one, with a hairpin bend, and the race promised to be exciting.

  The atmosphere changed as the horses took up their starting positions. Everyone in the crowd turned to look at the track, and a hush fell. Then the horses were off.

  The bay quickly outstripped the other horses whilst her own horse was trapped in the middle of the group and Maria’s horse trailed towards the rear. Then Maria’s horse put on a spurt and overtook Cassandra’s, the bay fell behind, and Cassandra’s horse made up lost ground on the bend. Maria’s horse fell behind again, the bay joined the leaders, and Cassandra’s horse made a challenge for third position.

  There was a thunder of hoofs as the horses raced towards them and the front runners went past. Cassandra’s horse was amongst them. She turned her head to follow its progress…and then suddenly she was jostled from behind and was thrown forward into the path of the oncoming horses. Before she had time to react, she felt a firm hand on the back of her shawl, and she was pulled out of the way just in time. She looked round to see Justin behind her. Their eyes met, and she read something there that she could not understand. Then he took her hand and pulled her arm through his, anchoring her safely to his large person.

  “Your horse is doing well,” he remarked easily.

  She had expected him to make some remark on her fall, but his eyes were fixed on the horses. Remembering how Rupert had hated to be distracted when watching a race, she thought he must feel the same, and did not mention her accident. Instead, she answered his comment with a simple, “Yes.”

  She turned to watch her horse. It was overtaken at the last minute by a showy animal, and the race was over.

  “Thought the bay would do it,” said Freddy regretfully.

  Neither he nor any of the other members of Cassandra’s party had noticed her accident.

  “Never mind,” said Cassandra. “Better luck next time.”

  “Can I persuade you to join me for some refreshment?” asked Justin. “There is a superior tent at the end, and you are all included in the invitation, of course.”

  “Thank you,” said Maria. “We’d be delighted. Wouldn’t we, Harry?”

  “Oh, yes,” said Harry, receiving a nudge in the ribs. “Delighted.”

  Cassandra tried to draw her arm away from Justin as they began to walk towards the tent, but he put his hand on top of it and held it firm. The contact was unnerving, awakening the feelings that had been stirred at the soirée. She didn’t know why it should be. She glanced sideways at him, taking him in. On the surface he was like any other man of his type, but underneath there was something more. What lay beneath his civilized exterior? she wondered. Because for all his polished manners, there was something dangerous and yet compelling there.

  “Did you manage to ask Mr. Goddard everything you wanted to know?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did, thank you.”

  “And?”

  “He felt, like you, that it was nothing more than a bad bet.”

  “Then I hope it has set your mind at rest.”

  “Yes, it has.”

  “Good.” He smiled down at her. “Now you can forget about it and enjoy the rest of your stay in Brighton.”

  But it was not so easy. There were still things she wanted to know. Plucking up her courage she began.

  “You told me that you were with Rupert on the night he died.”

  “Yes, I was.”

  “When I spoke to Mr. Bradley at the soirée, or rather, when he spoke to me, he said I should ask you about the night my brother died. He said…he implied…”

  She did not know how to continue. He walked beside her in silence, not helping her.

  She gathered her thoughts, then went on. “He said…” She could not reveal what he had really said. Ask Deverill what he was doing with your brother on the night he died. Ask him what really happened, then see how much you want him to touch you. But she must know what he had meant. “Lord Deverill, what really happened?”

  “I was with Rupert, as Mr. Bradley said. Rupert took a hedge in the dark and unluckily there was a ditch beyond it. His horse fell and he fell with it. He was mortally wounded.” His voice dropped. “I am sorry.”

  Cassandra fell silent. After a time she said, “Mr. Bradley implied there was more.”

  “Bradley was drunk,” he said.

  “Yes,” she conceded.

  “And he was not well disposed towards me.”

  “No, that’s true.”

  Was there more to the situation? She felt there was, but she also felt that he would say no more. Again she was struck by the layers in him. He was in some ways charming, witty and good company. He was an extremely attractive man, and he made her feel in a way no one had ever made her feel before. But there was something deeper, something darker, hidden away, and t
he more she learnt about him, the less she felt she knew about him.

  They arrived at one of the refreshment tents. Unlike its companions, it was a sedate enclosure, and had none of the drunken behaviour that was going on elsewhere. There were some elegantly dressed people enjoying glasses of rata-fia and lemonade, and before long Cassandra found herself seated at a trestle table with a glass of lemonade in front of her. Whilst the others talked of the race, Cassandra continued her conversation with Justin.

  “I haven’t thanked you yet for saving me,” she said. “When I felt myself falling, I feared the worst. It was lucky you’d come up beside me and noticed what was happening, otherwise I would be dead by now. I seem to be accident prone at the moment. I was almost drowned when I went bathing a few days ago, and now I almost fell under a horse! I really need to be more careful. I am not used to mixing with large groups of people, and I have forgotten how to be aware of so many things happening at once. In the country it’s very quiet. But I will get used to it again, by and by.”

  He threw off his drink, then turned towards her.

  “You were almost drowned, you say?” he asked casually. “You didn’t mention it when I saw you.”

  “There didn’t seem to be any reason to do so. I was bathing, and one of the other ladies was in difficulties. I tried to help her, but she was flailing around so wildly that at last I had to get away from her. I couldn’t surface, so I swam under water. When I came up I couldn’t see her, so she must have managed to save herself.”

  He regarded her thoughtfully.

  “Not many people can swim under water,” he remarked.

  “No, but my mother could, and she taught me. She grew up in Brighton, and she was used to the sea. She learnt to swim at an early age. Her parents both felt it was a healthful activity. My grandfather believed in the beneficial properties of sea water. In fact, he believed in them so much that he tried to make my mother drink it. Fortunately, my grandmother said that Dr. Russell might be a great man in some ways, and that he had done them all a great service by turning Brighton into a bathing resort, but that he was a fool for suggesting people drink sea water and that no child of hers was going to drink it!”

  He laughed. “That isn’t the worst of it. Dr. Awsiter used to recommend that people drink it mixed with milk.”

  “Ugh!” said Cassandra. “I can think of nothing worse. Fortunately my mother was as sensible as my grandmother, and although she taught Rupert, Lizzie and me to swim, she never made us drink the sea.”

  “She must have been an unusual lady,” said Justin.

  “She was.” Cassandra smiled as she thought of her mother. “She was advanced in her thinking. She made sure we spent our summers in Brighton so that we could benefit from the sea air, and in the autumn we returned to the estate. She made it seem so easy to organize everything. It wasn’t until she died that I realized how difficult it was. She was always singing and cheerful.”

  She became quiet. He seemed to understand something of what she was thinking, because he said, “It must have been a blow to you when she died.”

  “Yes.” She sighed. “It was. We had no warning of it, you see. She and my father went to London to visit friends. She worried about leaving us behind, but Lizzie was recovering from chicken pox and was too ill to travel and Rupert did not want to go. I was content to stay at home to amuse Lizzie, and so at last she was persuaded to go. We had Moll and John to look after us, as well as a houseful of servants at that time. My mother wrote to us every day. Her letters were cheerful, full of the interesting things she and my father were seeing and doing. Then there was an outbreak of cholera. They were both taken ill, and though their friends nursed them faithfully, they never recovered.”

  He spoke quietly. “It isn’t easy to lose your parents, especially not so young.”

  There was something in his tone of voice that touched her.

  “You sound as though you speak from experience,” she said, turning towards him. She saw that his expression had softened. The harsh lines had gone from around his mouth, and his eyes were opaque.

  “I do,” he said simply. “I, too, lost my parents young, although they did not both die at the same time. My mother died just before I came of age, and my father died a few years later. My mother’s death was caused by an old complaint; and my father never recovered from her death. He lost his interest in life and very soon followed her to the grave. I became the guardian of my sister. She was only fourteen at the time. I had an aunt who helped me to give her a season and she married a good man. She is happy now, but it was difficult for her at the time.”

  “Then we have something in common. My sister, Lizzie, is ten years old. I have tried to be a mother and father to her, but it is not easy.”

  “It isn’t,” he said. “You told me she is staying with a friend?”

  “Yes, in Hertfordshire.” Cassandra smiled. “I had a letter from her yesterday. She’s riding and swimming in the river and generally behaving like a hoyden!”

  “Has she been to Brighton?”

  “Yes. We used to spend the summer here regularly when my parents were alive.”

  “And now you intend to do so again.”

  “It would be lovely, but no. I have to try and sell the house. I must do what I can to repair our family’s fortunes.”

  She fell silent, remembering that he, too, must repair his family fortune. A chill breeze blew under the flap of the tent and she drew her shawl more tightly about her. He would marry an heiress. She would sell the town house. And they would never see each other again.

  Around them, the others talked.

  “I thought my horse was going to win!” she heard Maria saying. “It was doing so well, but after the bend it could not keep up. Even so, I hoped it would make a last minute recovery, but it was mortifying to watch it come in last!” She turned to Cassandra. “I forgot to follow your horse in all the excitement, Cassandra. Did it do well?”

  “No. It did very badly. It limped in just before yours,” she remarked wryly.

  “Didn’t have the stamina,” said Freddy. “Seen it run before. Mind you, didn’t do so well myself. Came in fifth. Dashed queer things, horses. Never know what’s going to happen next.”

  They finished their refreshments.

  “I think we should be going,” said Maria.

  She, Cassandra and Harry took their leave of Justin, whilst Freddy remained behind, talking to Mr. Goddard about the race. As they left the tent, Cassandra felt Justin’s eyes on her.

  “That was most enjoyable,” said Maria, as they emerged on to the Down. “I know Lord Deverill is an attractive man, but he has no fortune,” she went on. “He is useful to make you appear sought after, but don’t forget that Lord Armington would be a much better husband.”

  “Lord Deverill has no intention of proposing to me,” said Cassandra.

  “Oh, good,” said Maria.

  Cassandra found, to her surprise, that she did not agree. Choosing not to dwell on the unsettling thought, she said, “Will you help me choose some ribbon?” A major purchase was beyond her, but a small purchase was not. “I want to buy some to trim my new bonnet, and I don’t know which colour to choose.”

  “Of course I will.”

  The subject of Justin was dropped. The sun was hot, shining down from a clear blue sky. Maria unfurled her parasol and Cassandra went to unfurl hers, only to realize she had left it in the refreshment tent.

  “I’ve forgotten my parasol. I will not be long,” she promised Maria. “I will meet you by the ribbon stall.”

  “Harry will go with you.”

  “It’s all right. I will only be a minute.”

  She returned to the refreshment tent. As she approached her table she saw that Freddy and Mr. Goddard had gone, but that Justin was still there. He was sitting with his back to her, and next to him was another gentleman. She recognized him as Matthew Standish, the young man who had burst into the room when she had visited Justin’s house on her first morn
ing in Brighton. Her eyes drifted over him to her parasol. She was about to move forward and take it, when she heard Matthew say, “You’ve got to tell her. If she’s in danger, she needs to know about it. You can’t keep this to yourself.”

  “No. I can’t warn her without telling her everything, and I’m not prepared to do that. I don’t want to destroy her peace of mind.”

  “But if she’s had two accidents already, one whilst swimming and one—”

  “I can protect her from those.”

  Cassandra felt a sinking sensation as she realized they were talking about her. Two accidents. A near drowning and a near trampling to death. But what was that Justin had said? That he could protect her? Was that the explanation for his attention to her? Was that why she came across him so often? For some reason, she felt her spirits sinking. She had begun to think it was something more. Her mind flew back to the moment he had kissed her. That had not been prompted by a desire to protect her, at least, and it warmed her to know it.

  But Matthew was speaking again.

  “No, you can’t, Justin. She had one of them whilst swimming, and gentlemen aren’t allowed to bathe with the ladies.”

  “I’ve already taken care of that; I’ve set a woman to watch her.”

  “It isn’t enough. You can’t let her go through this blind. You have to tell her.”

  Cassandra felt anxious, but she had to know the truth. “Tell me what?” she demanded.

  Justin turned round and his face darkened when he saw her.

  “Cassandra, what are you doing here?”

  “I forgot my parasol.”

  She saw him glance round, then his eyes stopped as they fell on her parasol, leaning innocently against one of the benches.

  “What do you have to tell me?” she demanded.

  “You’ll have to tell her now,” said Matthew.

  But before Justin could reply, a determined voice broke in on him. “Why, if it isn’t Lord Deverill! How wonderful to find you here.”

  Looking round, Cassandra saw Mrs. and Miss Kerrith bearing down on them.