“Do not upset yourself, my lady. She is not the most difficult female I have attended on. The child is young and spirited, and it is only natural for her to be a little frightened.”
Lady Charlotte smiled thinly. “You are all kindness and understanding.”
Half an hour later Lady Charlotte came sailing down the main staircase in search of the Earl of Delvin and found herself caught up in an early arrival for the Fireworks ball.
An old gentleman with grizzled hair, a servant at his back leading two greyhounds, was being greeted by the Duchess of Romney-St. Neots, while footmen carried portmanteaux into the wide marble foyer. A younger gentleman in a scarlet frock with silver lacings and carrying an amber headed cane came in behind the bag-carrying footmen and waited to be noticed, looking nervously about and up at the gold leaf and painted blue domed ceiling.
Lady Charlotte was not pleased to have her mission interrupted and was about to return to the second landing when her mother saw her and beckoned her down to join the group.
Plantagenet Halsey introduced Simon Tremarton to the Duchess saying, “He doesn’t have a gilt-edged card of invitation but I knew you wouldn’t take exception to an extra pair of feet on the dance floor. He is brother to Lady Gervais and acquainted with Alec through the Foreign Department.”
“Your Grace,” Simon muttered and bowed low, “it was not my wish to intrude on your hospitality.”
“Not at all, Mr. Tremarton,” the Duchess said kindly, extending her hand to the old man. She introduced Lady Charlotte and was secretly pleased to see her daughter thrown off-balance to have her hand bowed over by a man she considered fit only for Tyburn. It served her to rights; the Duchess was still furious with her for fetching Sir John Oliphant.
Lady Charlotte almost recoiled when introduced to Plantagenet Halsey. She forced herself to give him her hand. In her opinion this old man with his republican sentiments had no place in a nobleman’s house; better to invite a highwayman to sit down to dinner. To Simon Tremarton she was no better with her civilities. Obviously he was a friend of this traitor or he wouldn’t have shared his carriage. When the greyhounds began sniffing at her silk mules it was too much for her to bear and she hurriedly excused herself with a whispered apology and an agitated wave of her gouache fan.
Plantagenet Halsey laughed openly at the woman’s hurried exit. He sent Tam off with the dogs to find his nephew and turned to the Duchess with a grin. “So that’s the one Alec says is crab-faced. Are all your daughters like that one, your Grace?”
“Fortunately, no. Though Sybilla is a little dim-witted,” said the Duchess with a smile. She took the arm he offered her, and with Mr. Tremarton following up behind, they went through to the Long Gallery where most of the house guests had assembled for an afternoon of card playing. “I’ll have Neave fetch Alec. Would you care for refreshment?”
Plantagenet Halsey patted her hand. “Don’t you worry yourself about us. Tremarton and I can wait for afternoon tea. Tell me how you are,” he said gruffly, looking down at her with concern. “And don’t give me any flam!”
Flustered by such rough speech, but just as pleased by it, the Duchess sat with him on a settee, away from her guests and Simon Tremarton politely excused himself and sauntered off to the card tables.
He soon saw his sister. Her whole concentration was on the cards in her hand. When she casually glanced up Simon winked at her. She almost leapt up. She knocked her fan to the floor. A gentleman standing nearby scooped it up and placed it on the table beside her reticule. Her thank you was perfunctory. Everyone was awaiting her bid. She discarded recklessly. Simon’s smile widened and he walked away to join a knot of people lounging about on a collection of chairs central to the long room. Lord Gervais was one of their number, and although he was not fond of his wife’s brother he had the good manners to invite Simon to join them.
“Hunt, Tremarton?” asked Lord Andrew Macara. “Sit down! Sit down! No ceremony here, what!”
“Sorry to say, my lord, I don’t have the time to indulge that passion,” said Simon, perching on the edge of a chair. “I shoot occasionally.”
“Ah,” replied Macara and lapsed into silence.
“Tremarton is in the diplomatic service,” Lord Gervais explained to Selina who sat on his right, languidly fanning air across her bare shoulders. “Always on the Continent.”
“Mr. Tremarton and I have been introduced,” Selina answered, her dark eyes never wavering from Simon’s face. She watched him color up and look away. “Foreign courts and foreign customs! All that intrigue. Perhaps I will take up travel…?”
“You’d hate it, Selina,” Sir Cosmo said with a laugh. “Mayhap not Paris. But the travel. The endless roads!”
“You’re right of course.” She sighed dramatically and put a long white hand to her temple. “Travel gives one the headache. Coming out here was arduous enough. All ninety minutes of it.” She and Sir Cosmo shared a private laugh. “In that I am not unlike my cousin Jack. Jack so hated to travel. He was very much a London man. I wonder what induced him to go into Yorkshire…?”
“Grouse,” stated Macara. “Had to be the grouse.”
“Truly? At this time of year?” Selina said with exaggerated surprise, putting Sir Cosmo on alert and again turning her large dark eyes on Simon. “And all along I had presumed it was to bag a bird of an altogether different feather. Perhaps, Mr. Tremarton, you can enlighten us. After all, you did accompany Jack into Yorkshire, did you not?”
Simon Tremarton blanched and mumbled a response to the effect that yes he did go into Yorkshire at Jack Belsay’s invitation, Lord Andrew Macara intervening by saying, “That so, Tremarton? Shoot anything worth talking about?”
Simon opened his mouth, a swift glance at Selina and it was she who said to his lordship with a smile, “I have no idea as to Mr. Tremarton’s accuracy of eye but Jack was very well pleased with his considerable skill in handling his weapon. Grouse, I suspect, was of secondary importance.”
Macara nodded. “Got to have good technique. Nothing worse than a man who can’t hold his weapon and discharge it in the proper manner!”
Selina grinned behind her fan, but her eyes were so brimful of laughter that Sir Cosmo made a mental note to find out what had so amused her. But right now his attention was diverted, as was everyone’s by the elderly couple deep in conversation across the room.
“Who’s that scruffy fellow in close conversation with her Grace? Eh, Tremarton? Know him?” asked Lord Gervais, quizzing-glass up to a watery eye.
“Mr. Plantagenet Halsey, my lord,” answered his brother-in-law, feeling a huge relief that curiosity had been deflected from him.
Several quizzing-glasses turned in the old man’s direction. Lord Gervais snorted contempt. Sir Cosmo grinned. Macara looked none the wiser and asked Selina to elaborate.
“Mr. Halsey is an outspoken Member of Parliament, my lord.”
“Outspoken, be damned! Begging your pardon, Madam,” growled Lord Gervais, “but that buzzard is a traitor to King and country!”
“He has certain republican sentiments, that’s true,” Sir Cosmo added calmly.
“Republican? Pah!” said Lord Gervais. “The man’s a lunatic! If he wasn’t in the Commons he’d have been thrown in the Tower by now.”
“I’m so glad he decided to come out here,” Selina Jamison-Lewis said with relish. “I was beginning to despair of a little excitement.”
“What in the name of all that’s sacred is he doing here?” Lord Gervais demanded.
“He’s Delvin’s uncle,” Sir Cosmo said with a grin and winked at Selina.
“The man’s a nuisance to society!” grumbled Lord Gervais, slightly mollified to learn the old man had good lineage. “He thinks we ought to give-in to those American colonists’ demands. Writes seditious pamphlets inciting the cattle to riot.”
“But they can’t even read,” Selina pointed out.
“Can’t imagine what they’ve got to talk about,” said Macara. “Th
e man would have us all beheaded if he could. Frightening. What!”
“Oh, I don’t know if Mr. Halsey’s beliefs run to the blood-thirsty, my lord,” said Selina, a pointed stare at Lord Gervais. “But seated at his table you certainly wouldn’t outrank a dung-carter.”
Lord Andrew Macara’s eyes widened and he blustered. “Dung-carter? Well! Indeed!”
“The man’s certifiable!” stated Lord Gervais, whose anger showed no signs of abating. “You a disciple of his, Tremarton?”
“Certainly not, my lord! I barely know him. His nephew, Mr. Alec Halsey and I are in the service together. My association with Mr. Halsey is, thankfully, limited.”
Sir Cosmo shook his powdered head. “That’s a shame, Tremarton. Plantagenet Halsey is worth an acquaintance. Underneath all that rhetoric is a good honest man.”
Simon Tremarton colored painfully. “I wasn’t suggesting—”
“I don’t give a fig for his honesty!” interrupted Lord Gervais. “He’s a nuisance to society and a hypocrite showing his face here! He should be evicted at once!”
“Steady on, Gervais,” Lord Andrew Macara said darkly. “Invited by her Grace. Can’t throw him out. Bad form. Wouldn’t be polite.”
“But the man don’t even believe in primogeniture and entail!” Lord Gervais persisted. “Where would that leave the continuance of your bloodline and property, my lord, if it was not passed onto your eldest son and heir? Whoever heard of a second and third son receiving equal portions of their elder brother’s inherited right? Eh? Madness!”
Lord Andrew Macara put up his quizzing glass to better view Plantagenet Halsey, a frown between his brows, the only sign of disapproval he would permit himself to display at the Duchess’s choice of house guest. The lull in the conversation gave Simon Tremarton the opportunity to excuse himself. No sooner did he stand than he was pounced on by his sister. She made no apology for dragging him away to the relative privacy of an alcove by a French window.
“Pleased to see me, love?” Simon Tremarton quipped as he disentangled his sister’s fingers from the lace at his wrist.
“I can’t imagine you were sent an invitation,” she whispered, annoyed. “Why are you here, Simon?”
“I came to see Alec Halsey. He’s the brother of your—”
“I know perfectly well who he is!”
“Ah. So you’ve met the walking Greek statue. Get your claws into him yet, Cindy?”
“Why do you suppose I’d be interested in him?” she said with a pout, little nose in the air.
He grinned and flicked her under the chin. “Poor Cindy. What a blow to your self-esteem. You probably threw yourself at him, too.”
“Try and do better!” she taunted.
“Given half a chance, I’d love to find out if he’s as virile as he looks.”
“You’re disgusting!”
Simon shrugged. “No more disgusting than you getting on your knees for the likes of Delvin.” He glanced down the length of the long room. “Where is the lover earl?”
“He wandered off with Lady Charlotte—”
“Rival, love?”
“No! The woman’s a prude.” She stopped fluttering her fan and stared hard at her brother. “What do you want with him, Simon? You’re scheming something. Tell me!”
“I’ve unfinished business with the Earl—”
“Edward won’t give you money.”
“I don’t want a paltry thousand.”
Lady Gervais gave a gasp. “Simon?! You’ve managed to raise the money for Reubens?”
“No, I haven’t managed to raise the money. How in the space of a few days do you think I could? But I will, and have guineas to spare. You’ll see.”
“H-how?”
Simon smiled. From his frockcoat pocket he produced a worn yellowed envelope. “With this. Your lover will want to hand over much more than a paltry thousand pounds. And I intend to squeeze him as hard as I can. If he’s stupid enough to fob me off then his brother will be mightily interested to see what I’ve got, and pay for it, too.”
“You’re mad! You can’t blackmail Edward, or his brother. You’ll not only lose your post but most likely end up stuck with a sword, same as Belsay.”
“Ha! Jack was a naïve fool to think Delvin would fight fair. Now go back to your game of Basset. Your dull-witted husband is staring at us.”
“What do I care about that? He’s always staring at me.”
“Still peering at you and the lover earl through keyholes?”
Cynthia Gervais glanced over her bare shoulder and met her husband’s unblinking gaze. Lord Andrew Macara was talking at him but he wasn’t paying attention. She turned to her brother with a twinge of conscience. “Don’t do anything to upset him, Simon. You’ve already tried his patience over that ghastly Ganymede business. He managed to pull you out of that mess, but he takes his judicial duties seriously. If you think he’ll step in and save your neck a second time, you’re much mistaken”
Simon smiled and kissed her cheek, eyes on his brother-in-law. “Don’t worry, love. It’s not my neck that needs saving.” And with a bow he strolled off to try his luck at one of the card tables.
Tam found Alec in the little-used courtyard off the servant wing. He was stripped to his shirtsleeves and engaged in giving a lesson in the finer points of fencing to a lanky youth with a spotty face. Four little girls sat perched high up on the stone wall. Tam noted with a crooked smile that his master’s frockcoat was being used to keep the damp from their petticoats. A boy who resembled Alec’s fencing partner leaned on the wall close by, as silent as his sisters, and just as preoccupied.
It said much for his master’s performance that Tam’s presence went unnoticed for a full minute. And then it was Cromwell and Marziran who interrupted the lesson, tugging on their leads, eager to go to their master. Watching a fencing lesson could not compete with the attractions of two prancing greyhounds. The squeals of the youngest children brought the lesson to a close and Alec obliged his spectators’ demands and lifted the girls off the wall.
They were well behaved enough not to rush at Tam, and when he gave the hounds some slack, the children coyly moved forward, hands outstretched to offer scratches, pats and strokes. The two boys deemed themselves above such juvenile entertainment and detained Alec with a hundred questions until a servant girl emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of refreshments which she placed atop a sundial. A footman brought Alec a tankard of ale which was almost over-set by six eager children scampering across the cobblestones to receive their tumbler of punch and slice of seedy cake.
“Come to rescue me, Tam?” Alec smiled, pulling affectionately at the ears of his dogs. “My uncle arrive safely?”
“Mr. Halsey is with her Grace, sir. We brought a visitor with us.”
“Yes?”
“A Mr. Simon Tremarton, sir.”
“Tremarton?” Alec waited for Tam to continue but the boy was frowning and a little distracted and fiddled with the dogs’ leads.
“Mr. Tremarton was at St. James’s Place when I arrived,” Tam explained. “He asked to see you, sir, and was a bit agitated when Mr. Wantage told him you’d be away for the weekend. That’s when Mr. Halsey showed up with his bag and they got to talking. One thing led to another and he’s here now.”
“Then I’ll find out what he wants soon enough.”
“Sir—!” Tam began, and then stopped because the boy with the spotty face, his brother in tow, came up to be noticed.
“Oliver and I want to thank you again, sir,” said the boy and pulled his brother forward with him. “We’re not proper swordsmen yet, but we’ll be better in a few years. Then perhaps we can use real swords instead of these blunt rapiers, which is something I’d—well, Oliver and I—would like more than anything!”
Their eldest sister called to them. They were all wanted inside at once. Charles shuffled his feet and felt painfully embarrassed to be seen at the beck and call of a female in front of his hero.
“Ol
iver and I aren’t usually thrown together with our sisters,” he confided. “Our tutor, Mr. Brown, has taken ill with the influenza so Mamma wouldn’t have him. Though Papa said Mr. Brown has nothing more than a sniffle.”
“Lewis and Cousin Harry can’t come out today on account of a trick they played on Old Nurse,” explained Oliver in support of his brother. “Mamma made them stay indoors and work on their Latin.” He looked to his elder brother for support. “That’s why we are forced to keep company with our sisters.”
“How unfortunate for you,” Alec sympathized. “But I’m sure you take very good care of your sisters, even if it is a sad trial on a man’s time.”
Charles nodded seriously. “That’s true, sir. They are a trial.” He pulled Oliver’s coat tail. “Come on, Oliver. Mr. Halsey doesn’t want to hear about Cousin Harry and Lewis. Just a silly boy’s prank,” he assured Alec. “They were playing at ghosts on the servant stairs last night, all to scare Old Nurse, and were caught out, not once but twice—”
“By whom, Charles?” interrupted Alec, trying to sound disinterested.
The brothers exchanged a puzzled look then Charles said, “Lewis said the first gentleman growled at them, which scattered their wits and sent them running all the way to the bottom of the stairs into the servant passage. That’s where the second gentleman caught them. Mamma says Lewis and Cousin Harry must write a note of apology to Lord Delvin. Serves them to rights, I say. Anyway, we must be going, sir, before we’re fetched. Thanks again, sir!” He made Alec a short, formal bow and scampered off with Oliver at his heels.
Tam picked up Alec’s crumpled and dirty frockcoat and put it over his arm and waited to be noticed. It said much for his new-found self-control that he held his tongue and did not immediately resume the conversation he had started when interrupted by the two boys. But he was not about to come between devoted animals and their master and leaned against the low stone wall and watched Alec messing about with his dogs, who scampered about the courtyard free of their leads. Finally, Alec finished off his ale and, calling the greyhounds to heel, came across to Tam.
Deadly Engagement: A Georgian Historical Mystery (Alec Halsey Crimance) Page 17