‘That is probably true,’ he said, taking a sip of his coffee. ‘Let us turn our minds to more pleasant topics. How are you enjoying your dancing lessons?’
Before she could stop it, she felt a blush creeping into her cheeks. Fortunately, her brother was as uninterested in making actual chit-chat as he usually was and did not look up from his breakfast to see it.
‘Fine,’ she said. ‘I am enjoying the lessons and thank you for the privilege.’
‘And is your sister enjoying them, as well?’ Now he surprised her, meeting her gaze with a pointed look, as if ready to catch her in a lie.
‘I think she is quite satisfied with them,’ Peg answered truthfully. ‘But you would have to ask her.’
‘I suspect I shall,’ he said, not looking away. ‘But for now, I am speaking with you. I know your sister is headstrong and eager to escape the house. I would hope, if she is doing something she shouldn’t, that you would tell me.’
If this was an attempt to coerce her into spying for him, it failed utterly. She chose her next words carefully, so as to answer honestly without betraying Liv. ‘I think, if you were less strict with her, she would not want to rebel.’
He grunted in response and picked up the paper again. ‘I do not remember asking your opinion.’
‘Perhaps you should have,’ she said, smiling back at him. ‘Since I am one, I know far more about young women than you do. I can assure you you will never keep either of us in line by tightening the restrictions on us.’
She remembered what Mr Castell had said about the possible reasons that their brother kept them from the ton. ‘If you are concerned that we might be as bothered by gossip as you are by your newspaper, you must not worry. I know better than to believe nonsense told to us by others, or to be hurt by cuts and snubs from ignorant strangers.’
He looked up at her, more shocked than surprised, searching her expression, as if wondering if they were thinking of the same scandal.
‘I do not think you need to worry about such a thing, but all the same it is a very sensible response,’ he said, raising his paper again to block her out and indicate that further speculation about his motives was not welcome.
But this only served to take him back to the thing that had made him angry before. As she finished her toast, he let out another series of huffs and gave the paper a vicious shake as if it might rearrange the words to be more to his liking. ‘Damned Castell,’ he muttered.
‘I beg your pardon,’ she said, sure that she could not have heard him correctly.
He huffed again. ‘And I beg yours. I should not use such language in your presence.’
‘Were you swearing at someone in particular?’ she said, waiting for the correction that would prove she had misheard him.
‘It is nothing,’ he said, rattling the paper again.
‘It did not sound like nothing.’
‘Just a reporter who never fails to annoy me,’ he said, setting the paper aside. ‘It is foolish of me to keep reading his articles, since it is likely to drive me to apoplexy one day. That is probably what he is hoping for, since he never has a fair word to say about me.’
‘I see,’ she said, eyeing the paper.
Her brother took a deep sip from his coffee, then pushed the cup aside. ‘But enough of that. I have far more important things to worry about than the opinions of a scribbler in a second-rate newspaper.’ He rose from the table then and left her.
She waited only a moment for him to get clear of the door before grabbing the paper and paging through it to find the article that had angered him. It was a review of the recent doings in Parliament and highly critical of the position her brother had taken. And the name under the headline was just as she had feared: David Castell.
She dropped the paper on the table again. Perhaps it was a common name. There must be more than one Castell family in England and surely there could be more than one of them named David. Since her dancing master had not bothered to spell it for her, perhaps it was not the same name at all.
But in her heart, she knew it must be true. The coincidence of his arrival was just too great. It also explained how she had managed to get a dancing master who did not actually dance.
But that led to the question of just what it was he had come to find. The answer was obvious. He was the one that had brought up the rumours still swirling about her brother. He had also been quick to tell her that her brother had sent him to spy on them. Was that the truth, or merely something he had made up to win her loyalties?
Worst of all, he had kissed her. It was not much of a kiss, but it was probably the beginning of a plot to seduce her, using her fickle heart to make her betray her family.
The murder had been almost two years ago. When would scandalmongers like David Castell give up their speculations and realise that the real killer would never be found?
There was one way to find out. Without realising it, she had crumpled the paper in her hands. Now she smoothed it, folded it and tucked it under her arm. She must prepare for today’s dance lesson. Perhaps Mr Castell would have to prepare himself for a few unfortunate truths, as well.
* * *
David arrived at the Scofield town house that day trying not to be too eager for the lesson that was to come. It was probably for the best that the last visit with Lady Margaret had been interrupted by her sister. He had been on the verge of abandoning his true mission in favour of a dalliance with someone who was young, innocent and totally out of reach.
Rationally, he knew nothing could come of it. He might steal a few kisses, but he would leave soon and never see her again. Still, there was a dangerous part of his heart that wanted more, just as he wanted a better hand than he’d been dealt in every other part of his life. Where was it written that some people were born deserving less than their fellows? Had God put a woman like Margaret Bethune on the planet simply to remind him that his aspirations were doomed to failure?
He forced himself to remember his true purpose, which was to make war and not love. Ruining Scofield would not just avenge Dick Sterling. The article might also be the making of David’s career. His father could hardly ignore him if his investigative work made him the talk of London. Margaret Bethune had no part in any of that, other than as a source of information.
There was also the fact that Scofield would kill him if he found out about the simple kiss that David had already given her. Try as he might, he could not manage to be frightened by the fact. In truth, he felt it would be better to die for a larger sin than one as pathetically small as that had been.
His plan for the day was to limit himself to a few weak dance lessons, ferreting out more information about the family as he led her through the steps. If something of a romantic nature developed from that? He could not help the grin that was spreading across his face. A few kisses would do neither of them harm and would give Margaret a bit of the adventure she had been denied by her scoundrel of a brother.
Today he made no effort to lose himself in wrong turns, but arrived at the music room promptly on the hour in time to see Lady Olivia disappearing out the window with the help of her sister. When Lady Margaret turned back from the window, he greeted her with a broad smile and a deep bow. ‘I have been counting the hours, my lady,’ he said, embarrassed at the sincerity in his voice.
‘Have you now?’ she said, with none of her usual warmth. She reached into the pocket of her gown and produced a folded sheet of newsprint, waving it once in his face before slapping him in the chest with it and stalking towards the middle of the room.
He did not have to read it to realise that she must have found his latest editorial from the newspaper. ‘I had no idea you read the Standard,’ he said, trying a more tentative, playful smile.
‘You must think me so stupid that I could not read at all,’ she snapped. ‘Of course, I am probably as great a fool as you think me, since I did not immed
iately report to my brother that you had a false name, a false accent and no dancing ability whatsoever.’
‘I do not think you foolish in the least,’ he assured her. ‘And, all things considered, I thought we were getting along quite well together without my having to dance for you.’
‘Because I did not know who you were,’ she said, spitting out the words as though they were coated in vinegar. ‘If I had known you were playing up to me so that I would tell you family secrets, I’d have told Hugh that you kissed me. Then you could find out for yourself if he is truly a dangerous man.’
It was a perfectly reasonable response to what he had done. But what surprised him most was the fact that she had not already carried it out. If she was truly angry at him, he’d have thought that her brother would already have a hand on his collar, leading him to his fate.
‘You have nothing to say for yourself?’ she said, outraged.
‘I am sorry that I have lied to you,’ he said, trying and failing to find the words to describe how he felt about deceiving her. ‘But I am doing what I am doing for the good of society.’
‘You think the world requires you to harass an innocent man and enter our home under false pretences to lure information out of me by lying?’ she said. ‘I had no idea that the greater good was so despicable.’
For a moment he looked into her eyes and felt the hurt of his betrayal as keenly as she did. Then, he remembered it was not just the murder of the Duke he sought to avenge, but his friend’s, as well. ‘It gave me no feeling of pride to mislead you,’ he said, hardening his heart. ‘You are innocent of all this. But though you want to believe it so, your brother is not. It is not only your father whom he killed. He murdered a close friend of mine, stabbed him and threw his body in the river like garbage.’
‘Did you see it happen?’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘But I know that they argued and I know that Scofield threatened to kill him. Two days later, Dick was dead—murdered, just as your brother had promised.’
‘Then you know as much as you claim to know about Father’s death and that is nothing at all,’ she snapped. ‘All you have is rumour, assumption and my brother’s tendency to threaten people. But since you do not know him, you cannot know the truth. He would never follow through on his words.’
‘Yet people he threatens tend to die,’ David reminded her.
‘A coincidence,’ she snapped. ‘He had nothing to do with either of those deaths.’
‘Murders,’ David corrected, unable to let her hide from the truth.
‘Murders, then,’ she said, obviously frustrated with his clarification. ‘But that still does not mean Hugh had anything to do with them.’
‘We will have to disagree,’ he said, for it was clear there was nothing he could say that would persuade her of the disaster about to strike her family. ‘But that does not tell me what you mean to do, now that you have discovered my secret.’
At this question, her anger evaporated, replaced with confusion. It was clear that she had no plan, other than the initial confrontation with him. She stared at him in silence for a moment as she tried to calculate her next move. Then she said, ‘If it makes you feel better, I will not tell him what you really came here to do.’
‘Thank you,’ he said, surprised. Considering how she must feel about him, it was more than he deserved.
‘But neither will I allow you to libel my brother,’ she added.
‘It is not libel, if it is the truth,’ David reminded her.
She released a frustrated sigh. ‘What if I can prove to you that he is innocent?’
‘Then I would most like to hear it.’ He leaned closer. ‘What do you know?’ She had been in the house at the time of the crime. Perhaps there was something she remembered that would prove her support for Scofield was more than just family loyalty.
But now that she was pressed for details, she had fallen silent again. ‘I will find something,’ she said at last. ‘Then you will see that you are wrong.’
‘You would not know where to look,’ he said.
‘Neither would you,’ she reminded him. ‘Yet you came to this house, ready to search.’
‘I assumed I would find someone to help me,’ he said, wondering if she knew how little effort it had taken to get information out of her own servants.
‘I suppose you wanted me to help you ruin my own brother,’ she said, disgusted. ‘You were trying to turn me against him on the first day we met.’
‘My warnings on that day were sincere,’ he said. ‘I was and am worried for you and your sister, left in the care of a man who might be capable of anything. If you were afraid to be in the house with him, I wanted to know.’
‘Well, I am not,’ she said. ‘I am more concerned with the wild lies you will be spreading if you do not have someone to see that you have the whole story.’
‘Then help me,’ he said. ‘If you are right and I am wrong, find one piece of evidence that will support the fact and I will drop my plans and leave Scofield in peace.’
She stared at him, biting her lip, and said, ‘All right. If an investigation is going to take place, I want to be involved in it. But only because I know he is innocent and I mean to prove it to you.’
‘You will help?’ he said, surprised that he had got her to agree.
‘It is better that I do it willingly than that you trick me into it,’ she said with a sigh. ‘And it will be easier for all of us if I do not go to Hugh and insist that I no longer want the lessons I asked him for. He will ask questions that none of us wants to answer.’
She was speaking of his lies, Olivia’s escapes and the kiss he had already given her. In a few short visits, they had created a complicated web of potential blackmail that no one wanted to unravel. ‘I will keep your secrets if you keep mine,’ he assured her. ‘Together, perhaps we can uncover the truth.’
She nodded, resigned, then glanced at the clock on the mantle. ‘We have half a lesson left. Where do you wish to begin?’
‘You want to start now?’ he said, surprised.
‘We might as well get it over with,’ she said with another sigh. ‘What can I help you with?’
‘I would like to meet your sister’s dog,’ he said.
‘No,’ she replied, firmly. ‘I do not think you would.’
‘Why would you say that?’ he said, smiling.
‘Because no one wants to meet that horrid little beast. At least, no one wants to meet him twice. Once is usually enough to form a permanent dislike of him.’
‘That is precisely why I want to see him. Where is this dog and why have I not seen him already?’
‘Because, on occasions when my sister does not want to deal with him, which is most of the time, he is kept in a kennel in the back garden.’
‘Show me,’ he said again, moving to the window that Olivia used to escape.
Lady Margaret reached out and tugged him back. ‘Let us use a more conventional method of exit.’
‘What will you tell the staff, if they enquire as to what we are doing?’
‘I will think of something,’ she said with a shrug and led him out of the room and down a corridor towards the kitchen. As they passed through to get to the back door, the cook gave them a fish-eyed look.
‘Mr Castellano says he is fond of dogs. I am taking him to meet Caesar to disabuse him of that.’
The cook crossed herself and stepped out of their way. As an afterthought, she pulled a juicy bone from the stew pot and wrapped it in a napkin. ‘In case you need it.’
Margaret nodded her thanks and they went into the garden. As they rounded the corner of the house, the kennel came in sight and an ageing pug let out what he probably thought was a fearsome battle cry, but was actually an endless series of wheezy barks. The sound carried surprisingly well in the walled garden and he suspected anyone near an open window i
n the house was thoroughly annoyed by it.
Suddenly, the little dog tired of idle threats and launched himself from his house, charging David with the confidence of a lion on an antelope. The dog did not go silent until his little teeth sank into the flesh of David’s ankle.
David let out a string of curses that no lady should hear. Then he hissed through clenched teeth and gave Lady Margaret a pleading look. ‘Get this monster off of me.’
In response, she smiled, obviously pleased that he had been paid back in some part for the tricks he had already played. She had warned him, and now he was getting what he deserved. ‘Caesar,’ she called, with no particular enthusiasm, ‘stop it.’
The dog ignored her.
David gave a sharp kick of his leg to dislodge the animal and was free for only a moment before it snapped again, catching the leg of his pantaloons and worrying the fabric until it ripped.
‘Caesar,’ she said again, then unwrapped the bone and dropped it directly in front of him.
The dog immediately freed David’s leg and tried to pick up the bone. Since it was bigger than his head, the best he could do was a slow, industrious drag back to his house, growling happily the whole way.
She looked back to David, as he rubbed his ankle and stared in dismay at his ripped pantaloons. ‘Now you have met my sister’s dog. Was that what you were expecting to find?’
‘He has more than lived up to his reputation,’ David said, reaching into his pocket for a handkerchief to bind his wounded ankle. ‘Was this dog present in the house when your father was killed?’
‘My sister was here and so was he,’ she said. ‘She would never leave him in the country. The servants there want no part of him.’
‘And where is the window to the study?’ he asked.
She stared back at the house and picked it out of the row of the windows, pointing.
‘So, if someone attempted to break in from the yard, as the open window of the study implied, the dog would have barked to alert the house, then attacked him.’ David paused, waiting to see if she could offer anything more than a denial of the obvious.
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