The remaining ladies watched her leave, then turned the weight of their curiosity on Ashleigh, who put down his teacup with a sigh and told his tale.
“I’m sorry, Kate,” he concluded. “I truly thought it was over. It never occurred to me that Farnsworth might still be a threat.”
She shrugged and answered calmly. “I can’t claim to be surprised. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t make myself believe that he would simply give up. He is a man who cannot believe that anyone would dare oppose him.”
“Such wickedness! I can scarce believe it.” Franny, the mother hen, looked around furiously. “This cannot be permitted. He must be stopped.”
“Indeed, Ma’am,” said Bancroft gently. “You may be assured that we will stop him.”
“Indeed, we will,” said Lady Talmadge. “Have you gentlemen made any plans as yet?”
Ashleigh, who had been watching Kate carefully and seeing more anger than distress, turned to his sister. “I thought to go to London. It will be easier to confront him there. But,” he hesitated, “but I would like all of us to go. I do not care to leave you unprotected, where you might be vulnerable to attack.”
“You think we would be unsafe if we stayed here at Kelswick?” Kate almost laughed at the thought, but Ashley shook his head.
“You would be safe enough, perhaps, if you never stepped outside the door,” he said, “but I fear you might find such restriction irritating.”
Bancroft added, “No sensible man would attempt anything here, but he is not sensible. Proposing the murder of a duke? The man is not entirely rational.”
Lady Talmadge leaned back and thought. “No, he does not seem quite rational. In fact, he seems quite mad.” She looked at her brother. “Do you know any of his family? Who is his heir?”
Ashleigh snorted. “Do you seriously think that he is likely to listen to the remonstrances of his aunts and cousins?”
“No,” she snapped. “I think that his family, and particularly his heir, will have an interest in seeing that he does not run amok, bringing shame on their name and, quite possibly, destroying his estate. They might prefer to have him quietly restrained someplace where he can do no harm.”
The others looked at her with something approaching awe.
“Bedlam, you mean?” said Kate. Her eyes narrowed in speculation.
Lady Talmadge shrugged. “His family is more likely to find a private asylum for him. But yes, that is essentially what I mean.” She smiled at Kate.
“Good God.” Ashleigh looked stunned.
His sister turned to him with a frown. “Would that not serve?”
“It would. Indeed, it would. I had just not expected… I had not thought you to be quite so ferocious.”
“Be warned, Your Grace,” said Franny. “When those we love are threatened, we women are not only ferocious but do not feel ourselves bound by any of your codes of gentlemanly behavior. We will use any weapons that come to hand.”
Ashleigh looked to Bancroft for help, but that gentleman was gazing carefully at the Romney portrait of the previous duke and showed no inclination to offer an opinion. Ashleigh cleared his throat. “Yes. Well. Yes.” He cleared his throat again. “I will write to Jorrey and tell him to see what he can discover.”
Chapter Twenty-One
London
Ashleigh House was probably what she should have expected after Kelswick, but it was so unlike her brother’s house that Kate had all she could do to keep from staring.
It was, of course, perfect in every detail. The sheer size of the building had almost overwhelmed her when the carriage drew up before it—four stories of pale stone taking up an entire side of Portland Square. Then came the hall, with its rose and white marble floor and, high above, a glass cupola. Everything gleamed and glowed with polish. The servants somehow managed to seem invisible, yet they were instantly there to whisk away bonnets and shawls, to open doors, to provide tea.
The housekeeper had escorted her to her rooms—rooms! Not simply a bedchamber, but also a sitting room, a dressing room in which a maid was unpacking her clothes and putting everything away, and even a bathing room with piped water coming from gilded faucets shaped like fish. The rooms looked over the garden, where some late roses were blooming, and a pleasant breeze carried their scent into the room.
She stood in the center of the sitting room and turned around slowly. It was a room that would look like sunshine on the gloomiest days with its pale yellow walls picked out in cream. The windows were draped in a silky fabric of blue and yellow, and the same colors appeared in the coverings of the chairs and settee. A small work table stood between the windows, its top a bouquet of marquetry flowers. It was quite beautiful.
Perhaps if she were taller, she would not feel such a bumpkin amidst all this perfection. Or perhaps, it would make no difference.
She felt him there in the room, behind her, before she heard him. She always knew when he was there. Had this been true from that first day when she opened the door to him or had it developed slowly? That also made no difference. She turned, smiled, and went into his arms.
He held her, nothing more, and she leaned against him, absorbing the strength and safety of him.
Eventually, he spoke. “It will be all right, Kate. All will be well.”
*
Ashleigh sat motionless in the carriage. Not a crease marred the perfection of his blue superfine coat, his pale yellow brocaded waistcoat, his biscuit knit trousers. His black Hessians were polished to a mirror gleam. The whiteness of his linen defied the sooty air of London, and the intricate folds of his cravat defied the city’s damp atmosphere. A tall beaver sat at precisely the right angle on his head, neither too stolid nor too jaunty. His hands, encased in a second skin of pale yellow kid, rested on the silver handle of his ebony walking stick.
Across from him sat Merton and Bancroft, nearly his equals in sartorial splendor. Bancroft had rejected his usual unobtrusiveness for a waistcoat in swirls of purple and green, and Merton had managed to refrain from destroying the perfection of his cravat or disheveling his hair. He could not, however, match the immobility of Ashleigh’s countenance.
“I still say this is a bad idea,” he muttered as the ducal equipage pulled up in front of Farnsworth’s residence. “What the devil do you expect to accomplish?”
The men had all descended before Ashleigh replied. “If this were a duel, he would be given an opportunity to apologize. As it is, once he realizes that he is known, that he is opposed, he may withdraw.” Merton snorted at that, and Ashleigh smiled faintly. “Also, I wish to see him, to judge for myself.”
Bancroft shook his head. “We will do it your way. I expect you will have to see for yourself. Just do not be too foolish. A man who hires assassins is not deserving of chivalry.”
Ashleigh nodded and led the way up the steps. The door was opened promptly and they entered, placing their cards on the servant’s tray. “We would speak with the earl,” he said and strolled in, looking casually about the hall.
Minutes later, they were ushered into a library where a man of middle years stood leaning on a cane. His complexion was mottled and his eyes glittered in an unhealthy way.
“You’re Ashleigh?” he demanded. At the duke’s nod, he barked out, “Well, I see you have come to your senses. Have you brought her? Where is she?”
Taken aback, Ashleigh stared coldly at the man. “You are Farnsworth?”
“Of course I am. What do you think? You are in my home, are you not?”
Ashleigh acknowledged that with a slight nod.
Farnsworth snorted. “Do not play games with me. Katherine is mine. I want the little bitch brought to me immediately.” He thumped his cane on the floor.
“You dare to speak of her that way!” Ashleigh sucked in an angry gasp and started for the man, but Bancroft put out a hand. He managed to compose himself before he spoke again. “You do not seem to be aware that Miss Russell and I are betrothed.”
He could get
no further before Farnsworth broke in, stumbling forward. “No, she is mine! I have her brother’s word. I want her. I will have her!” His voice rose furiously.
Ashleigh glanced at his companions. “This is useless.” He turned back to the earl. “I have come to give you fair warning. You must put an end to this insane pursuit of Miss Russell. If you do not do so of your own accord, I will be forced to take action of my own. Is that perfectly clear?”
Farnsworth’s eyes grew round with anger. “You dare… you dare to threaten me? Do you know who I am? I am Farnsworth!” Spittle frothed at the corners of his mouth. He swung the cane at them though they were well beyond his reach. “No one defies me. I am Farnsworth!”
This time, it was Merton who made to move toward him, and Ashleigh who held him back. They withdrew and left the building, followed by shouts of “I am Farnsworth. No one defies me.”
Once back in the carriage, Ashleigh leaned his head back on the squabs and closed his eyes. They were nearly home before he spoke. “My God, that creature could have gotten his hands on Kate. The thought that he might even touch her… and her brother would have let him…”
“Pity Newell’s already at sea,” said Bancroft. “I wouldn’t mind having a further chat with him.”
“You would have to wait your turn,” said Merton. “But this did clear up one thing. He’s definitely got the pox.” When his companions looked at him curiously, he gave a sour grin. “Did you see his nose?”
“It looked damaged,” said Bancroft, “as if something had struck him.”
Merton shook his head. “It’s rotting away. He’s better dressed than the poxy madmen you see in ports around the Mediterranean or in the Indies but, other than that, I saw his like too often when I was in the navy.”
Ashleigh felt ill.
*
Kate and Alice were waiting nervously at the door when the gentlemen returned. Ashleigh shook his head, but not even that gesture had been needed. The very fact that they wore masks of impassivity was enough to announce that they had no good news to tell.
In the library, Ashleigh picked up some papers and promptly threw then back down. “The man’s as mad as a hatter, but according to Jorrey, he has no near relations. Hell, there isn’t even an heir as far as anyone knows. And if I challenge him, I will have to kill him in order to stop him. There’s nothing else for it. I will have to go to the authorities and have him taken in charge.”
“No!” Kate spoke sharply, then repeated more softly, “No. He would fight it, you know he would. The scandal would be enormous. The papers and the caricaturists would have a field day. Your name, your reputation would be destroyed simply because of your connection with me. I cannot allow that.”
“Good God, Kate, do you think I can risk leaving that madman at large? He’s shown himself willing to use kidnapping, arson and murder to get his hands on you. Do you expect me to stand aside until he succeeds?”
“I will not embroil you in a scandal of this magnitude.”
“And I will not allow you to put yourself at risk.”
They glared at each other.
“Do stop playing at heroics, you two, and let me think.” Lady Talmadge settled herself in a chair and tapped her finger thoughtfully on her cheek. “Not a large party. A small dinner, I think. Yes, a small, select company. That would be best.”
“Alice, what on earth are you talking about? We are trying to protect Kate, not launch her into society.”
Bancroft put a calming hand on Ashleigh’s shoulder. “Let your sister think. She does it quite well.”
She shot him a quick glance of appreciation and said, “It would be infinitely better for us to have this handled quietly, but it would also be better for certain others. Consider the case of Earl Ferrars.”
Ashleigh frowned. “Ferrars? But that was more than half a century ago.”
“Yes,” she nodded, “but people still remember it.”
“Didn’t he murder someone?” asked Kate.
“Yes, his steward, and he was hanged for it,” Bancroft said. “A triumph of justice, one might say.”
“They may say that in the House of Lords,” Merton said. “In taverns, they are more apt to say that a peer has to be found standing over the body with a bloody dagger in his hand before anyone will do anything to stop him.”
Lady Talmadge nodded in agreement. “There were complaints that this was far from his first violent crime. They said he would have been brought to justice far sooner had he not been a peer. The case is still brought up from time to time in the radical papers.”
“You read the radical papers?” Ashleigh looked at his sister in consternation. “No. Wait.” He put up a hand and shook his head to clear it. “What has this to do with dinner parties?”
Lady Talmadge smiled tolerantly at her brother. “With all the recent unrest, the government is worried about riots and rebellion. Sidmouth has been particularly assiduous in uncovering plots and sedition.”
“I fail to see what Home Secretary Sidmouth has to do with my affairs.” Ashleigh was sounding ducal again.
“He will not be at all pleased to learn that a peer has been running about, committing crimes right and left, considering himself untouchable because of his position. Attempting to kidnap an innocent girl. Torching the home of a respectable widow. Seeking to hire an assassin. Making such behavior—such unpunished—behavior public could easily set off a wave of rioting that could have unforeseeable consequences. It could be 1789 all over again.”
Her brother looked at her in horror. “You can’t be serious.”
She sighed regretfully. “No, I’m not. However, I have listened to Sidmouth rant about his conspiracies often enough. It is precisely the sort of scenario he will have no difficulty believing. We will invite him to dinner and fawn over him. Then you will confide in him over port and express your concerns about this madman and the effect on the public when his crimes become known.” She paused to think. “We should invite someone else as well. Not the prime minister. Liverpool may rely on Sidmouth, but he prefers to not know about unpleasant details. Eldon, I think. As lord chancellor, he has the power to convene a panel to examine Farnsworth and have him committed without any of it being made public.”
The others stared at her in silence until Bancroft shook his head in bemusement. “Did your husband have any notion of what Byzantine plotting was going on in that head of yours?”
“Of course not. I was simply there to arrange the dinners and routs and be attractive and charming to the guests. No one ever desired me to voice an opinion or give advice, so I never did. But I watched. And I listened.” She allowed herself a small smile of satisfaction.
Ashleigh was still staring at his sister, but the shock had given way to calculation. “You know, that might work. That might actually work.”
Kate remained confused. “I am afraid I do not understand at all. These are powerful men you are talking about. Why would they even be interested, no less willing to help me?”
“They would not be helping you, Kate,” said Bancroft. “They would be furthering their own interests and, in the process, they would be doing a favor for a duke, trusting that he will remember and be grateful enough to cooperate with them in the future.”
“A somewhat cynical assessment, but nonetheless accurate,” said Ashleigh.
Kate frowned and swung around to look at him. “Does this mean you will be in their debt? Is that wise?”
He shrugged. “Not so deep in their debt that I would ever feel obliged to do anything I would not do otherwise. Remember, Farnsworth is a problem for them as well, though they do not yet realize it. With all the unrest disturbing the country, a mad peer who commits crimes but whose rank makes him immune to punishment could be the spark to set off a conflagration.”
Bancroft’s laugh rumbled out. “Don’t worry, Kate. I have known Peter practically all his life, and I have never yet known him to do something he did not wish to do.”
“Three days hence�
��no, four,” said Lady Talmadge thoughtfully. “That will give Cook a bit more time to prepare. Come along, Kate. You are about to receive a lesson in planning a dinner party.”
*
It was a comparatively small dinner, with only ten at table. Nonetheless, Lady Talmadge had seen to it that all the most elaborate silver dishes were on display, including the Cellini salt cellar acquired by the fourth duke when he visited Rome on his Grand Tour. The huge silver gilt tureen on the sideboard had been a gift from King Charles II to an earlier duchess, though this was not, of course, mentioned unless someone happened to inquire.
Twenty bewigged footmen, in the austere Ashleigh livery of black and silver, stood motionless against the walls, stepping forward to serve the ten diners only when given an almost imperceptible signal by the butler.
Ashleigh himself looked far more regal than poor mad George ever had or than the regent could ever hope to. In breeches, as befitted a conservative peer, a black coat, as prescribed earlier by Beau Brummell, and a brocaded waistcoat, his perfect tailoring displayed a masculine figure that needed neither padding nor corseting. Bancroft was similarly attired, though his coat was not quite so snug and his waistcoat showed a pale yellow stripe.
The austerity of the gentlemen’s attire served as a foil for the exuberance of the ladies’ gowns. Franny was the most sedate in lavender silk trimmed with lace and a matching turban, with a modest set of amethysts around her neck. Lady Talmadge’s blue satin was overlaid with a skirt of silver net, and the intricate braids and ringlets of her hair sported a diamond pin holding in place a plume of three blue feathers. Her necklace and bracelet of sapphires and diamonds drew a gasp of admiration from Lady Eldon when she arrived. Kate was a picture of innocence in fine white muslin with intricate white embroidery on the tiny sleeves and bodice and around the hem. The only touch of color was the green sash, just the color of the leaves on the white roses in her hair.
A Debt of Dishonor Page 24