The Diabolical Baron

by Mary Jo Putney

  “I expect you are right and I am worrying about nothing. I’ll probably never see the Diabolical Baron again, except in the distance at some crowded affair. In the meantime, poppet, it’s high time you and I got started with your music lesson. I must be home early to go shopping with Gina. She needs some ribbon to refurbish a gown before the Cavendish ball tomorrow night.”

  “I think I am too old to be a poppet, Caro,” Linda announced. “I am almost ten, you know.”

  “Indeed, I am very sorry to have made such a mistake. If Miss Sterling is ready for the pianoforte, may we begin? And if Miss Sterling has done her practice faithfully and performs well, there may just be some fresh gingerbread for her.”

  With a squeak of delight, Linda abandoned her newfound maturity to dash to the music room, her cousin following with more decorum. Jessica looked after the figures a little sadly. Her little girl was not going to be a little girl much longer, and the niece that was almost a daughter was being forced into womanhood before she was ready.

  The hardest part of being a mother, she thought, was knowing that growth was painful. And that there was no way she could spare them those pains.

  Chapter 3

  Caroline returned to the Hanscombe town house later than intended; the few minutes spent on a Mozart concerto became a full-scale composing session after Linda left munching her gingerbread. Even at best she could be absentminded, and when she got involved in music, time lost any meaning.

  It was a family joke that Caro must be kept from the pianoforte if there were any important engagements. Once she had settled down for a few minutes’ playing after lunch, and had been forcibly dragged away by Gina six hours later to dress in time for dinner. She had been in a creative daze all that evening, but it had been worthwhile; it was the first time she had composed a concerto worthy of the name.

  In London, Caroline took pains to avoid getting over-absorbed in her music. The many distractions of town, coupled with the inferior performance of the pianoforte in the rented town house, kept her in touch with the normal world. Today, however, she had been seduced away from her good intentions by the fine instrument Jessica owned. Gina was doubtless waiting impatiently.

  She was breathless and flushed from hurrying when she burst into the sitting room to find Gina. She took two steps into the room and stopped in shock. The Diabolical Baron was there.

  Jason did not miss her gasp at seeing him. Clearly Miss Hanscombe must learn that when he said he would do something, it was as good as done. Not for him the casual social promise! He said he would call, and was here at the earliest acceptable hour.

  He was pleased to see her, having endured a quarter-hour of Lady Hanscombe’s intrusive chatter as well as the forcible introduction of Miss Gina. A good-enough girl, but not one he could envision as Lady Radford; that jolly country squire from Almack’s would suit her very well.

  Caroline at least had possibilities. Thank heaven she wasn’t a talker like her mother.

  “Good day. Miss Hanscombe,” he said smoothly as he rose and made his bow. “The morning air suits you admirably. I have come to beg the honor of taking you for a turn in the park.”

  Caroline blushed and looked at the carpet. “It would be a great pleasure, my lord, but... but I am engaged to my sister.”

  “Oh, that is quite all, right, Caro,” Gina said helpfully. “We can go tomorrow. I shouldn’t wish to interfere with your enjoyment.” She cast a roguish look in Lord Radford’s direction. “Besides, Gideon will be here soon and we are also going for a drive.”

  “Indeed, Caroline, it was very bad of you to keep his lordship waiting,” said her stepmother sternly.

  “She did not know when I was coming, Lady Hanscombe. But I do hope you are now free to accept my invitation,” he said to her.

  “Of course, Lord Radford,” she said, still studying the carpet. “If you will but give me a few moments to freshen up, I will be with you directly.” With that, she turned and left the room quickly enough to qualify it as flight.

  She hurried up the stairs in confusion. What was the man doing here? Surely he had better things to do.

  She entered her room and took a quick inventory of her wardrobe. The gray morning dress with dark blue trim should do; she always looked as if she were succumbing to a minor illness when she wore it. She changed quickly, and spent a moment combing her hair over her brow to conceal her face more.

  To complete the effect, she took her least favorite bonnet, one of her stepmother’s castoffs. It had been unimpressive even in its salad days, and age had not improved it. She drew a deep breath to calm herself, then proceeded downstairs to meet her fate.

  Lord Radford studied her as she entered the salon. He gave her several points for the speed with which she had made ready, but had to subtract them for the poor results. Really, the girl dressed a fright. She had looked quite pretty when she came in from outside; now she looked like a nondescript governess. Her wardrobe must certainly be altered as soon as they were betrothed.

  Even a young woman as inattentive to fashion as Caroline could not fail to notice Lord Radford’s high-perch phaeton. It was magnificently black, with accents in silver. The superbly matched black horses were clearly of superior lineage, and their harness continued the black-and-silver theme.

  Jason watched Caroline’s eyes widen and asked, “Do you approve?”

  “It is not for me to approve or disapprove, your lordship.”

  “Nonsense. You are entitled to an opinion, and I’m sure you have one, even if you are not in the habit of stating it,” he said as he helped her up into the vehicle.

  “Well, it is very dramatic,” she said hesitantly as she settled herself against the black velvet squabs. “But perhaps a little . . . ominous.” She certainly couldn’t tell him it exactly confirmed her naming him the Diabolical Baron.

  “Your mother likes it. Before you returned, she told me it was most handsome.”

  “Stepmother.”

  “Ah, we are making progress, Miss Hanscombe! That is the first comment you have made that goes beyond the minimum necessary to answer my remarks,” Jason said genially. He was pleased to learn that the girl was no blood relation to Lady Hanscombe. He would rather not have a wife from that mold.

  “I... I’m sorry, Lord Radford.” She flushed and looked at the glossy horses before her. “I did not mean to be uncivil.”

  Jason cursed his misstep. He wasn’t sure whether she took his remark as a criticism, or merely had no sense of humor; in either event, he had lost any ground he had made.

  Glancing sideways, he guessed the lovely porcelain skin would always betray her feelings in easy blushes. Unfortunate for her, perhaps, but convenient for him.

  “I am sure you have never been uncivil in your life. Is this your first visit to London?” Back to the neutralities of their first meeting at Almack’s; it seemed safer.

  English weather was always good for extended conversation, so Jason spent the drive through Hyde Park discussing it while she replied in monosyllables. Yes, it was unusually warm for late April. Indeed, it was very pleasant; yes, rain would soon be needed for the crops.

  They tooled elegantly about during this scintillating discussion, attracting considerable attention from those fashionable folk in the park this early. No one could ever remember Radford taking a drive with a female who could be safely introduced in mixed company. And a marriageable miss just out of the schoolroom? It must be serious!

  Sublimely unaware of the speculations, Caroline was slowly starting to relax. While she would have preferred to be almost anywhere other than this conspicuous vehicle with its even more conspicuous driver, at least she was in no immediate danger. She was still unclear about what kind of danger Lord Radford represented, but she couldn’t shake that disturbing sense of unknown forces around her.

  They were heading back when a familiar voice hailed them. George Fitzwilliam trotted his horse over and gave a cheerful smile even though he saw his chances of owning Jason’s g
rays rapidly diminishing. “Good day to you, Miss Hanscombe, Jason. A splendid morning to be taking the air.”

  As he chatted easily, he studied Caroline. The chit didn’t seem best pleased; the most positive thing one could say about her expression was “resigned.” Perhaps his wager wasn’t quite so hopeless after all.

  After George had moved on to greet others, Jason expertly gathered the reins and made a tricky turn around a badly driven barouche. “Tell me, Miss Hanscombe, do you have any special interests that you would like to discuss? I am exhausting my store of commonplaces, and it is your turn to suggest a topic.”

  Caroline glanced at him hesitantly. “I am ... very fond of music, my lord.”

  Jason managed to avoid groaning, “Spare me!” but she saw in his face the look of a man who had heard too many painful concerts by conscientious, untalented maidens. So many weeping harps! Pounded pianofortes! Voices either inaudible or all too easily heard in the next street.

  In a society where music was a necessary “accomplishment” for a young lady, great crimes against the human ear were perpetrated. She flushed again and looked across the park at a group of horsemen. “Of course it is of no importance,” she said stiffly.

  Jason sensed her withdrawal and felt a pang of regret. She was so vulnerable. Was he going to have to watch every word for the next forty years?

  He suddenly realized he was almost old enough to be her father. His mind digressed—about fourteen years’ difference in age? He grinned as he remembered Lizzie, the so-friendly dairy maid. Yes, technically he could have been her father....

  His off-leader shied slightly at another carriage, bringing him back to the present. Assuming a properly sober expression, he said, “I do wish, Miss Hanscombe, you were not quite so nervous in my presence. I am really not an ogre about to eat you.”

  “Are you not?” she said in an unexpectedly dry voice, slanting a quick glance up at him.

  Jason was startled both by her tone and by her surprisingly deep blue eyes. He realized it was the first time she had looked directly at him, and he had the uncomfortable feeling she might have seen more than he intended. Perhaps there was more to the girl than he thought. He smoothly retreated to safe topics and his quarry resumed studying the surrounding traffic.

  As they headed back to Adam Street, neither was pleased with the way matters were progressing.

  * * * *

  While Jason and Caroline were circling the park, Sir Alfred had summoned his wife to his study to discuss their finances. A burly, choleric man, the baronet was a breathtaking example of selfishness. While he did have a modicum of interest in his fifteen-year-old heir, Master Colin, and he quite enjoyed fighting with his wife, he had an almost total lack of interest in the welfare or comfort of anyone other than himself.

  The handsome fortune he had inherited was seriously depleted by years of self-indulgence and poor investments. While he had wisely refrained from mortgaging his estate, he had been financially embarrassed for some time now, and was ready to check on the progress of his other “investments.”

  “Well, Louisa, you promised that spending all of this money launching the oldest girls would pay a handsome return as well as getting them off our hands. How do matters stand?”

  “Quite well, Alfred. In fact there is a surprising development taking place at this very moment. I have already informed you of Gideon Fallsworthy’s interest in Gina. I am sure he is on the verge of offering for her, and he seems so besotted he will probably take her without a portion.”

  “Yes, yes, I know all about him,” Sir Alfred said impatiently. “But I do not scruple to say our financial situation has worsened. The East India trading ship I invested in is far overdue, and almost certainly lost. I had counted on the profit of that to pay for ... never mind what. Is there any chance a richer man may offer for Gina? If so, I’ll refuse to let Fallsworthy have her.”

  Lady Hanscombe was revolted by her husband’s casual greed, but she knew better than to argue the issue on romantic grounds. “I really do not think that is possible. She and Gideon have been so absorbed in each other that her other suitors have looked elsewhere. Even if there were someone else, I fear she would elope rather than give Gideon up.”

  “What kind of doxies have you been raising, madam?” Sir Alfred bellowed. Like many men of casual morals, he demanded that his daughters behave with a propriety that he would have abhorred in a potential mistress.

  “Watch your language about your daughter, sir! She is no doxy, she just knows what she wants. Fallsworthy is a very amiable young man, and I’m quite sure the minx would be able to persuade him to run off,” her proud mother said. “If you disliked the match, you should have said so when they first met. You approved at the time, you might recall.”

  “Aye, I was not at a standstill then.”

  “I had hoped the substantial portion Caroline will inherit from her mother will make her more marriageable—”

  “Don’t be counting on that,” Sir Alfred interrupted.

  “You haven’t spent the money? That would be embezzlement!” his wife gasped. “It was left in trust for her.”

  “Don’t be so anxious to send me to jail,” he snapped. “I invested it in a surefire canal scheme, but the director ran off with the funds. It was a legitimate investment for her trust money,” he added defensively in the face of his wife’s glare. While she had her share of faults, Lady Hanscombe was scrupulously honest, and her husband’s actions appalled her.

  After collecting herself, Louisa said coldly, “Then it is just as well Caroline never knew the size of her inheritance. The other news I have for you could not be better timed. I had begun to despair of finding someone for her. She has no countenance or vivacity, and seems quite uninterested in attaching anyone. But it is the most amazing thing—Lord Radford has taken a marked interest in her. He sought her out at Almack’s last night, danced only with her, and called for her this morning for a drive. Hard as it may be to understand, he seems quite smitten with her.”

  “Lord Radford? The man has had some of the most dashing mistresses in London. What interest could he have in a milk-and-water miss like Caroline?”

  “Mysterious are the ways of love,” Lady Hanscombe said sententiously. “He probably wants a well-brought-up young lady who will bear him a son and not curb his pleasures. Caroline should suit him very well. And she won’t present any problems if he comes up to scratch. She’s always been a most obedient girl.”

  “Well, see she stays that way!” her loving husband barked as he ended the interview by leaving the room for his club.

  Chapter 4

  Richard Davenport’s leg was aching badly by the time he reached the legal offices of Chelmsford and Marlin, but since that was common nowadays, he ignored it. He was taking long daily walks to rebuild the damaged leg as much as possible; on difficult days, like this one, he carried a cane and distracted himself by whistling complicated musical themes.

  He had always been a whistler, and often maddened and intrigued his fellow officers with his habit of whistling tunes that were comments or footnotes to what was being discussed. When other amusements were in short supply, as was often the case in the Peninsular campaigns, it was considered a good game to guess what chain of unconscious logic led Captain Dalton to whistle his current choice.

  It wasn’t hard to understand why mentioning London brought forth “Oranges and Lemons,” or a lament on the lack of decent drink a chorus of “John Barleycorn.” But sometimes the references were more obscure, and numerous energetic discussions had resulted on why “A-Rovin’ ” or “Jack the Jolly Tar” had been heard. Richard was no help; when questioned, he would just smile and whistle a Spanish phrase that translated as “Who knows?”

  More than a week had passed since his initial discussion with Josiah Chelmsford, and he was still uncertain whether the life of an earl was worth considering. Josiah had invited him back with the bait of more information on his parents’ early years.

  H
e entered the office and was received by the clerk with much more civility than on his first visit. He smiled wryly. Such toad-eating would doubtless be a principal side effect of becoming a peer of the realm.

  Josiah greeted Richard with a handshake and a jovial “Good day, my boy. You are looking very much more the thing than when we last met. Are you coming to terms with your unexpected fortune?”

  “Good day sir. I am sorry to disappoint you, but I have no more idea what to do now than last week.”

  “I don’t want to press you, but I must explain way your grandfather tied up the estate. It has been almost exactly a year since he died. Under the terms of the will, I was to administer the estate for eighteen months while a search was made for Julius Davenport or his heir. The earl was estranged from your father for much longer than the seven years it takes to declare a missing person dead, but when he revised his will after the death of your second uncle, I told him of the letters I had received from Julius.

  “Your father had notified me of your birth, and in the absence of evidence to the contrary, I preferred to assume you were alive. Unfortunately I had no idea where to look for you. Your father’s letters were remarkably unforthcoming. He was determined that no one should trace him.

  “At any rate, if no direct heir is found after eighteen months, the estate will pass to the heir presumptive, your father’s cousin Reginald Davenport. He is the son of the earl’s younger brother, but closer in age to you than to your father.”

  Chelmsford paused and fiddled with the pipe he had been puffing. “Your grandfather did not like many people, but he particularly disliked Reginald. Your cousin has quite a reputation as a gamester, fighter, and all-around rake. He was forbidden entry to his lordship’s presence for the last ten years. Nonetheless, he assumes himself to be the next earl and has all but painted a crest on his carriage. He is pressing me to wind this business up as quickly as possible. I suspect he has been living on his expectations for some time.”