Lord Deverill's Secret

by Amanda Grange

  “Thank you, you are most kind,” said Cassandra, feeling more and more sorry that she could not accept him.

  He smiled at her.

  “I honour you for your feelings,” he said. “If you contract a love match I will wish you happy. But if you do not, you have only to say a word to have my offer renewed. Until then, Miss Paxton, I will bid you good day.”

  He made her a low bow and withdrew.

  Cassandra clasped her hands in front of her and walked over to the fireplace. She stopped short as she caught sight of her face in the gilded mirror hanging above it. She looked worried. And small wonder. She had just turned down a most eligible offer, one that would have ensured her future comfort, and Lizzie’s future prosperity as well.

  Have I been foolish? were the words etched across her face. She did not want luxury for herself, but she did not just have herself to think of. She had Lizzie, too. She could provide for them both after a fashion, but was that enough? The little girl might be happy now, when all she needed was a pony, but as she grew older she would have different needs. Fashionable clothes, a season, a chance to marry…and Cassandra would not be able to give her them. But Lord Armington would, and he had made it clear that he would do it gladly. To offer Lizzie a marriage portion…it was extraordinarily kind.

  She heard footsteps in the hall. Pinching her cheeks to put a little colour into them, she turned and faced the door. It was opened to reveal Maria.

  “Cassie! I’ve just seen Lord Armington leaving your house,” said Maria, her eyes shining with excitement. “Don’t keep me in suspense. Has he proposed?”

  Cassandra gave a rueful smile. “Yes.”

  “Oh, Cassie, congratulations! I knew how it would be. I have said so all along. You will be Lady Armington! You will have clothes and carriages and a house in town. Lady Armington! How well it sounds. I can only hope you won’t be too grand to speak to me when you are married.”

  Cassandra could bear no more.

  “Maria, I turned him down.”

  Maria looked stunned.

  “You turned him down?” she gasped.

  “Yes.”

  “But Cassie, why? Everything that is most eligible…An offer like that will not come again.”

  “I know.”

  Maria shook her head. “I don’t understand you,” she said.

  “I couldn’t marry him because I don’t love him,” said Cassandra simply.

  “There is more to marriage than love,” said Maria.

  “That is easy for you to say, but would you have married Harry if you hadn’t loved him?” asked Cassandra.

  “No,” Maria admitted, “but that’s different. I didn’t have a mortgaged estate and a sister to care for. And besides, I can’t see why you don’t love Lord Armington. I’m sure it can’t be difficult. He’s handsome, charming and well mannered. He’s interesting, and he sincerely values you, and he would welcome Lizzie.”

  “Yes, I know he would, he told me so himself. But I just couldn’t do it.”

  Maria looked downcast.

  “Oh, Cassie, I was hoping you’d make a good marriage so that you would be able to keep your town house,” she said. “Without it you will hardly ever be in Brighton. You can stay with us at any time, you know that, but it is not the same. We will miss you.”

  “You will have to come and stay with us in the country.”

  “Of course we will, but I did so want to have you here. Oh, well, never mind,” said Maria, putting her gloom behind her. “At least we have you for another week or so. We will have to make the most of it. We will be giving a small dinner party on Wednesday. Perhaps you might like one of the gentlemen there.”

  “I am beginning to agree with Harry. You are incorrigible!” said Cassandra.

  “But you will come to my party all the same,” said Maria. “I’m afraid I can’t,” said Cassandra. “I would like to, but I am going to the Pavilion.”

  Maria was momentarily speechless.

  “The Pavilion?” she said at last.

  “Yes.”

  “To see the Prince of Wales?”

  “I believe he lives there, yes,” Cassandra teased her.

  “Well! I never thought…I never imagined…Cassie, this is wonderful. I am green with envy. Who are you going with? How did you secure an invitation?”

  “I am going with Lord Deverill’s sister,” she said.

  “Lord Deverill’s sister,” said Maria, casting her a thoughtful glance.

  “Yes. It is just kindness,” said Cassandra, trying to fend off the questions she could see hovering on Maria’s lips.

  “Of course,” said Maria with a straight face. “She invites all her casual acquaintances to go to the Pavilion. Will her brother be there?” she added nonchalantly.

  “I believe so,” said Cassandra.

  Maria’s eyes sparkled.

  “Now I know why you turned down Lord Armington.”

  “Maria, you’re wrong.”

  “You can’t lie to me. I know there has been something between you and Lord Deverill recently but I didn’t like to say anything because I believed it was causing you pain, but there is something about you when you are with him. You seem more alive than when he is not there. I think you are meant to be together,” she said simply.

  “There is nothing in the acquaintance, I assure you,” said Cassandra.

  “Very well, if you say so, then I will pretend to believe you.”

  Cassandra felt uncomfortable, and was glad when Maria changed the subject.

  “Have you decided what you will wear?” Maria asked.

  “No. I don’t have anything suitable,” said Cassandra.

  “Neither do I, or you would be welcome to borrow it,” said Maria. “You must have something new.”

  “It’s impossible,” said Cassandra with a sigh.

  “You can’t meet the Prince of Wales in an old frock,” said Maria.

  Cassandra hesitated. What Maria said was very true.

  “Cassie, you must have something new. If you are determined to sell the town house, then some of the proceeds will pay for it. Madame Joubier will not mind waiting a few months for payment, and if she knows you are going to the Pavilion she will give you a favourable price. If one of her creations is seen in such exclusive company, it will be bound to bring more business in her way.”

  Cassandra was tempted.

  “Perhaps I might have something new,” she said hesitantly.

  Maria stood up.

  “I am going to take you to her salon right away, before you change your mind.”

  “She won’t see me without an appointment,” Cassandra prevaricated.

  “When she knows you are going to dine with the Prince, she will see you straight away,” said Maria.

  “And she won’t be able to have anything ready so quickly.”

  “She always keeps a few gowns half made for emergencies. She told me so when I visited her once, in need of a new gown in a hurry. I was delighted to find she had a good selection that were partially made up, ready for just such an event. She will dress you for the Pavilion if she has to keep a team of seamstresses up all night between now and Wednesday to do it.”

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Cassandra looked into the cheval glass and could hardly believe what she saw. Her new gown moulded itself round her form and fell in soft folds to the floor. Made of satin, it had an overskirt of white gauze, with short puffed sleeves and a modest train. Moll had piled her hair on top of her head in an elaborate chignon which glistened in the candlelight, then wrapped a string of pearls round the base, to match the pearls at her throat. They had belonged to her mother and were the only form of jewellery she possessed, but to night she wanted nothing more.

  “You look like a fairy,” said Moll gruffly.

  Cassandra smiled and kissed her. But as she pulled on her gloves and went downstairs, she reminded herself that she was not going to an evening’s entertainment. She was going to try and catch a killer.


  Anne’s carriage arrived promptly and Cassandra left the house. The night was fine, with just a suggestion of a breeze. A few stars sprinkled the darkening sky as she entered the carriage.

  “I am so pleased you could join us,” said Anne.

  She was dressed in a beautiful gown of azure silk which was trimmed with matching ribbon.

  “Delighted to see you again, my dear,” said Charles affably.

  “It was very good of you to invite me,” said Cassandra.

  “Nonsense. Any friend of Justin’s is welcome in our house. We are so pleased the two of you met. You have been good for Justin, Cassandra,” said Anne.

  Cassandra did not know what to reply, and hastily turned the conversation.

  “I am longing to see the Pavilion. The Prince has been busy altering it again, I believe,” she said.

  “He’s turning it into a nabob’s palace,” said Charles, unimpressed.

  “Charles!” remonstrated Anne.

  “Well, you can’t say he isn’t,” said Charles unrepentantly. “The stables look like they’re from India, and inside the pavilion everything’s Chinese!” He looked at Cassandra and winked. “I think he’s losing his head over the place, myself, but don’t tell him I said so, m’dear. Princes can be touchy, and if I offend him I might lose m’own head!”

  Cassandra laughed.

  “I haven’t been to Brighton for a while, but it seems to me the Pavilion’s growing grander every year,” she said.

  A simple house to begin with, the Prince had already extended it, changing the original farm house into a superior residence by doubling it in size. He had created a new wing mirroring the original building, and had joined the two with an impressive rotunda. Cassandra had watched its development with interest. The Prince had been altering it for most of her life, and there were rumours that he had plans for yet more changes.

  It was not only the outside of the Pavilion that had undergone a number of changes. He had also redecorated it, reviving the fashion for chinoiserie.

  “Indeed it is,” said Anne. “He’s added a conservatory and a new entrance hall—the first one was not grand enough for his tastes. And of course he’s added to the gardens considerably. He bought the Promenade Grove a few years ago and turned it into part of his estate. It meant rebuilding the main London road further away from the Pavilion, but what is that to a prince? The road used to annoy him by passing right in front of the Pavilion—so little privacy!—and of course it separated the Pavilion from the Grove.”

  “Rebuilding the road!” said Charles, with a hearty guffaw.

  “For a prince, rebuilding a road is but a trifle,” said Anne reprovingly.

  The carriage rolled through the streets and at last approached the Pavilion. Cassandra drank it in as they drew close. The starlight was eclipsed by the candlelight blazing out of the French windows. The windows themselves were magnificent. They were tall on the ground floor, with graceful proportions that added to the elegance of the façade. Those above were not quite so large, but their proportions echoed those of the windows below to create a harmonious whole. The building was covered in cream glazed tiles, giving it a bright appearance.

  “I would like some Hampshire tiles myself,” said Anne. “Just look how light they make the Pavilion look.”

  “But would you have such stables?” asked Cassandra.

  “Well, they are certainly unusual,” said Anne, “though I think they are not quite to my taste. But I would not tell the Prince so, for there is a rumour he is so delighted with them that he means to remodel the rest of the Pavilion in the Indian style.”

  The carriage rolled to a halt. Cassandra’s mood sobered. Now was the time when her would-be assassin would be likely to strike. With all the jostling going on, a determined push would not attract notice, and if she was not careful she could find herself crushed beneath a carriage’s wheels. But she was on her guard and the two footmen who flanked her as she climbed out of the carriage were on their guard, too. They kept their distance, allowing any attacker to come forward, but they kept a hawk-like watch on her just the same. She began to walk ahead, looking to right and left. She saw no one she recognized, just a mill of people all dressed in their finest clothes, looking forward to an evening with their Prince. She crossed the drive. No one molested her. She reached the Pavilion. No one pushed her. She went inside…and then felt oddly deflated. If someone had attacked her it would have been over by now. Her attacker would have been in the safe custody of her guards. But now he was free to strike at any time.

  She did not mean to let it spoil her enjoyment, however. This was her one chance to visit the Pavilion, and she meant to make the most of it.

  As she went in, she heard a tinkling sound, and looking up she saw that there were bells hanging from the ceiling. They stirred with the breeze, casting silvery notes into the air. She and Anne exchanged glances. The Pavilion took opulence to new levels, and they were both intrigued as to what they would find next.

  They went through the hall and found themselves in a long room that seemed to run the length of the Pavilion.

  “Goodness,” said Anne, looking round her. “This must be the Chinese Gallery. Justin’s told me about it, but I never imagined anything so—unusual.”

  The gallery was immensely long and stretched away from them to both left and right. Chinese lanterns hung from the ceilings and were suspended from tall, carved supports. A mural of birds and bamboo fronds in a beautiful shade of blue covered the peach-coloured walls. Cassandra’s eyes widened at the sight of a stove formed like a pagoda, and widened still further when she saw the life-size mandarin figures which were set into niches along the walls. They were dressed in real robes and they stood on bamboo cabinets, making them taller than she was and giving the gallery an exotic air. Looking up, she saw that even the ceiling was magnificent, being set with glass skylights painted in intricate designs.

  “Have you seen the cabinets?” asked Anne in an undertone, as they walked past the elegant bamboo cabinets, which were fronted with panels of gathered red silk.

  Cassandra was too overwhelmed to answer. Matching the cabinets were long sofas pushed back against the walls, and at the far end she saw a staircase made of bamboo.

  “Well!” said Charles. And then again, “Well!”

  Cassandra took it all in so that she could relate its splendours to Maria on the following day, but there was so much to see that she despaired of ever remembering it all.

  At that moment, there was a stirring amongst the guests and, looking towards the end of the gallery, Cassandra saw the Prince himself appear. He was now over forty years old, and not as slim as Cassandra remembered him, but he was well made, with a pleasing face and an air of graciousness. His clothes fitted him exactly and were made of the finest cloth, making even the best-dressed of his guests seem to be wanting in this area.

  He came forward most affably to greet his guests. Cassandra did not expect to be noticed by him, but he stopped in front of her and said, “So you are the beautiful Miss Paxton.”

  Cassandra did not know what to reply, but her evident confusion did her no harm with the Prince, who raised her from her deep curtsy, and said, “Charming, my dear.”

  He asked her what she thought of his home, and she replied truthfully that it was the most magnificent dwelling she had ever seen. He smiled, well pleased, and with a few more words, passed on.

  Barely had Cassandra recovered from being spoken to by the Prince, however, than her heart began to beat even faster, for there, following the Prince, was Justin. He gave her a warm glance, but being in attendance on the Prince could do nothing more than bow before the Prince moved away.

  Cassandra went through into the Grand Saloon, where a large party was gathered. The Prince liked to be amused, and had collected some of the ton’s wittiest and brightest people around him. Gold and silver dazzled as the ladies’ gowns caught the candlelight. The conversation was light and bubbling, and drifted up to the ceiling. Ca
ssandra could imagine her brother in such surroundings. He had had an invitation once, on account of his wit, and he had sparkled. He had told Cassandra all about it, not just once but many times. He had been born to mix with princes, he had said.

  There were a number of people she recognized. Lord Armington was there. He made her a bow when he saw her but did not approach. Miss Kerrith was there with her mother. The Prince had an eye for beauty, and she was not the only lovely young lady there. Matthew Standish, Justin’s friend, was also there. He walked over to her casually, but Cassandra was not deceived. She knew he was alert, and that his seemingly casual glances round the room were in reality pointed, for he was one of the men who were making sure she was safe.

  “Miss Paxton, how pleasant to see you.”

  “And you,” she returned.

  “What do you think of the Pavilion?”

  “I think it’s splendid.”

  “It is. But you haven’t seen the best of it. The new banqueting room is magnificent. I expect you saw it as you arrived. It is in one of the most recent additions to the building.”

  “Oh, yes, I noticed it,” said Anne.

  A small group gathered round them. Matthew had many friends, and Anne, too, was well known. They talked amongst themselves until it was time for dinner. Then Matthew offered Cassandra his arm and led her in to the banqueting room. It was every bit as magnificent as the other rooms she had so far seen, and the sumptuous decorations were matched by an enormously long table draped in a snow white cloth and sparkling with glass and silver. Tall candelabras were set in a row down the centre, and chandeliers were suspended from the ceiling above.