by Stella Riley
At the end of their conversation, Maitland had contemplated him in silence for a time. Then he said bluntly, ‘I reckon you’ll do. You’re not some useless fribble and you make my lass happy. Do you love her?’
‘Yes.’ Adrian coloured slightly. ‘And count myself fortunate to have her.’
‘Good.’ The old man’s face creased into the first real smile Adrian had seen. Then he said unexpectedly, ‘One wing of this house looks ready to fall down. Been like that a while, has it?’
‘Years. Indeed, I don’t recall the north wing ever being habitable. But the rest of the house is in a good state of repair – unlike most of the tenants’ cottages. So --’
‘So you’re investing in them first. Yes. I’ve understood that.’ Mr Maitland got to his feet. ‘Right, then. Let’s go and take a look at it.’
‘The north wing?’ asked Adrian, startled and every nerve in his body recoiling from the idea. ‘Sir – it’s in bad shape. Bad enough to be dangerous, which is why we keep it closed off. There’s every kind of rot you can imagine and … to be honest, I haven’t been there myself in over a decade.’
The old man shot him a sharp glance.
‘Bad memories, are there? No. You needn’t tell me. We all have ’em. We just don’t need to let ’em rule us. Come and show me the damage.’
‘Mr Maitland, I really don’t think this is --’
‘Nonsense. If I fall through the floor, you’ll just have to pull me out. But if I’m going to give you the money it’ll take to put matters to rights, I’ll need to see how bad the problem is, won’t I? Now – let’s go.’
* * *
While Lord Sarre was closeted with Mr Maitland, Sebastian was given the chance to become acquainted with her ladyship – who immediately surprised him by saying, ‘If you’re to see anything of Adrian at all, sir, you’re going to have to stay the night.’
‘That is an extremely kind offer … but I don’t wish to intrude.’
‘You won’t be. Can you stay?’
He hesitated and then, since she seemed to actually mean it, said, ‘Yes.’
‘Excellent.’ She rose to pull the bell. ‘Adrian will be pleased. And by the time my grandfather has finished with him, I think he’ll have deserved the chance to sit down with an old friend over a glass of wine.’
Sebastian eyed her thoughtfully.
‘You’re very understanding. Adrian is fortunate.’
‘So am I. And I hope Grandpa is beginning to realise it. We’d intended to travel to Halifax as soon as the roads were fit but he has beaten us to it. Goodness knows how he managed to get here … but he’s a very determined gentleman.’
A tap at the door was followed by the housekeeper.
‘My lady?’
‘Mr Audley will be staying the night, Betsy. So you’ll need to prepare another bedchamber – and have someone locate his bag.’
‘I’ve already done so, my lady. Mr Maitland will occupy the Willow Suite and this gentleman, the blue room. Fires have been lit and their things are waiting for them. Will dinner in an hour suit, do you think?’
‘Perfectly. Oh … are the gentlemen still locking horns in the library?’
‘No. They are not.’ Mrs Holt’s face expressed severe disapproval. ‘They’ve gone tramping through all the mildew and filth of the north wing – and his lordship only just having cleaned himself up from this morning.’
‘Oh dear,’ said Caroline, trying not to laugh. ‘That is unfortunate. Still, I’m sure they must have had a good reason.’
‘If they’re both to come out treading mouse-droppings on my clean floors and with their hair full of cobwebs, I would certainly hope so.’
‘Well, that’s odd,’ remarked Caroline, when the door closed behind the housekeeper. ‘But if they’re invading a part of the house that is quite unusable, it at least means that Adrian isn’t still under interrogation. I know it was naughty of me to make sure he turned up in all his dirt – but if the first thing Grandpa had seen was one of his outrageous vests, he might never have recovered.’
Sebastian grinned. ‘He still wears them, then?’
‘Oh yes. The collection is vast.’ She paused. ‘Are the two of you close friends?’
‘In that we don’t meet very often, perhaps not. In other ways, I’d like to think so. Adrian was rattling about Europe due to his family’s fear of some scandal or other; I was doing it because I was being stifled with over-protectiveness. That created a bond of sorts … and somehow it never mattered how rarely we met.’ He made a slight careless gesture with one hand. ‘My wandering lifestyle results in a myriad of acquaintances but very few real friends. I count Adrian one of them.’
‘I see.’ Caroline rather thought she did see and felt a little sorry for him. Knowing better than to show it, however, she said, ‘Yet somehow you lost touch?’
He nodded. ‘It was after I returned from Russia --’
‘Russia?’
‘Yes. I play chess, you see.’
‘Chess? No. I don’t see at all.’
‘Russians take the game very seriously,’ he explained. ‘Some of the best players in the world are to be found there. I wanted to … test my skill.’
‘And did you win?’
‘Sometimes. And when I didn’t win, I learned.’ His smile was fleeting and a little self-deprecating. ‘But after Russia, it was as though Adrian had vanished. Until three days ago, I didn’t know he’d inherited the title – let alone returned to England and married.’
‘Well, the last two events are relatively recent,’ said Caroline, rising to pour two glasses of sherry. ‘As for where Adrian disappeared to … I suggest you ask him. He may even tell you.’
* * *
Dinner passed pleasantly despite a good deal of talk about rising damp and sagging roof timbers but no explanation of the sudden interest in either. And when the meal was over, Mr Maitland elected to join Caroline for tea in the parlour, thus leaving Adrian and Sebastian to take their port in private.
‘It seems a little late to be saying it,’ remarked Adrian, sliding the decanter in Sebastian’s direction, ‘but welcome to Sarre Park. It’s good to see you.’
‘And you – though I should apologise for arriving at such an awkward moment.’
‘Don’t. Your presence didn’t make it any more awkward than it would have been anyway. You can’t fail to have realised that Caroline and I eloped. Naturally, Mr Maitland wasn’t going to be thrilled about that; and equally naturally, he was bound to wonder if I was only after the money.’
Sebastian’s brows rose. ‘Money?’
‘Yes. The man has vast quantities of it and has settled a hefty sum on Caroline. Given what he’d already seen of the state of this house before he laid eyes on me, he couldn’t be blamed for suspecting my motives,’ replied his lordship dryly. ‘But enough of that. How was Russia?’
‘Uncomfortable. The nobility spy on each other and everyone spies on the foreigners. I don’t think I took a step without feeling eyes on my back.’
‘And the chess?’
Sebastian’s face lit up.
‘Extraordinary! There was one fellow in particular – Dimitri Makarovsky. I played him three times and didn’t even come close to winning. The man’s a genius. But in the end, when he was sure I was worth his time, he taught me a brilliant stratagem involving the Queen’s rook which …’ He stopped, laughing. ‘I’m sorry. The technicalities are wasted on you, aren’t they?’
‘Completely.’
‘And yet you count cards as naturally as breathing.’
‘No accounting for it, is there?’ Adrian took a sip of port and sat back, contemplating his glass. ‘Actually, that particular ability is a nuisance now I’ve assumed the title and turned respectable. One doesn’t want to fleece one’s friends, even by accident.’
‘I suppose not.’ Sebastian hesitated and then said, ‘Was it difficult – re-entering society after so long?’
‘Less so than I’d expected.’
<
br /> ‘The past didn’t come back to haunt you?’
‘No – or only by the man largely responsible for it.’ Adrian’s tone gathered a note of grim amusement. ‘It’s a long story and I’ll tell you about it some time. But it was the things I had done that could have created the biggest problems if they’d become generally known. Fortunately, they didn’t.’
‘Your lady wife hinted at something of the kind when I told her you’d disappeared.’
This time Adrian laughed.
‘I didn’t disappear. You just didn’t look in the right place.’
‘Which was?’
‘On stage at the Comédie Française – and no. I’m not joking. Ask anyone in Paris about an actor called L’Inconnu.’
Sebastian blinked. ‘Good God!’
‘Exactly. And that’s not all – though it will do for now.’ Adrian reached for the decanter and re-filled both glasses. ‘Why did you ask about my resurrection? Are you contemplating something similar?’
‘Perhaps. I came back because my father is ill but he’s no longer in danger so I thought … I was considering spending some time in London. The trouble is that I’ll have every Tom, Dick and Harry hurling challenges at me.’ He gave an irritable shrug. ‘Truth to tell, I’ve had my fill of all that – or grown out of it, more like.’
‘Then you’ll simply refuse.’
‘There’s nothing simple about it. They don’t give up. And it’s damned tiresome.’ Sebastian gave a sudden, short laugh. ‘From what you say, you’ve managed to keep all your misdeeds quiet. Mine – both the real and the imaginary – have been trumpeted across the length and breadth of Europe to the point where there’s no escaping them.’
‘Yes. I see.’ Adrian fell silent for a moment. ‘You could say your father’s ill-health has made you realise it’s time to settle down.’
‘Who’ll believe that? After the idiotic things I’ve probably said --’
‘Such as what?’
‘Lord – I don’t know. I spent the first six months after Cambridge making up for twenty-one years of sobriety. I was drunk often enough to have bruited my supposed woes to half of London.’
‘Then you’ll have to wait until the furore dies down – as it will do, eventually.’
‘I’d thought that myself – until my brother-in-law told me he’d had a note from Nicholas Wynstanton saying that the clubs are already taking bets on my possible re-appearance,’ said Sebastian bitterly. ‘Can you believe that? I’ve spent the last four months lurking quietly in Buda and only been back in England just over a week, for God’s sake!’
‘Ah. That doesn’t sound good.’
‘Good? It’s bloody appalling!’ Then, seeing laughter tugging at Adrian’s mouth, ‘All right – have your revenge for earlier. I know I sound ridiculous. But devil take it, Adrian – if Nick’s right, I’m doomed. I’ve promised my father I’ll remain in England through the spring but I can’t spend the whole time at Audley Court without going insane.’
‘In which case, you’ll have to brave London.’ The ghost of an idea stirred and his lordship took a moment to let it crystallise. Then he said slowly, ‘What you said about bets being laid in the clubs … you might make use of that.’
‘How?’ asked Sebastian dubiously.
‘Since accepting wagers is principally what you’re famous for, you could let it be known that you’ve already entered into a private one. Something that takes precedence – and which means the wilder challenges can’t be accepted.’ He paused, thinking rapidly. ‘You have Aristide record it in the private betting-book at Sinclairs so the exact nature of the wager won’t become common knowledge.’ A faint smile dawned. ‘Yes. That might work. Considering your reputation, it’s as near perfect a solution as you’re likely to find.’
‘I haven’t followed any of this,’ objected Sebastian. ‘What wager? And Aristide – Sinclairs – private betting-books? What are you talking about?’
‘Sinclairs is a fashionable gaming-club and Aristide Delacroix is the Frenchman who runs it. In addition to the usual public betting-book, he keeps a private one for wagers between small groups of gentlemen or individuals.’
‘I know I’ve been away from London a while – but is a handshake no longer enough?’
‘Of course. But some men like to have things recorded.’
‘Each to their own, I suppose. However … this notion of yours. I don’t suppose I need to ask with whom I’ve made this fictitious wager. So I imagine you must have some idea of what it’s to be about.’
‘I have,’ agreed Adrian, amusement lurking behind his eyes. ‘And it won’t be fictitious. If Aristide is to record it, the bet will be real enough – make no mistake about that.’
‘Point taken.’ Sebastian leaned back and folded his arms. ‘So?’
Entirely without haste, Lord Sarre stood up and looked down upon his friend. Then, very slowly and with a great deal of enjoyment, he said, ‘Mr Audley … I am wagering that, within eight weeks of your arrival in London, you cannot make yourself sufficiently acceptable in society that a respectable parent will permit you to pay your addresses to his daughter … in person and in private.’
It was a long moment before Sebastian could make his lungs work. Finally, he groaned, ‘Hell, Adrian. That is truly evil.’
‘Take it or leave it.’
‘But you’re basically challenging me to get married!’
‘No. Think about it. There’s nothing to stop you losing. Equally, there’s nothing to stop you winning … but choosing to propose to a girl you know would never, in a million years, accept you.’ Adrian grinned. ‘And meanwhile, you have eight weeks in which to refuse all other wagers whilst allowing your reputation to die a natural death. Well?’
‘You have a very devious mind,’ complained Sebastian. ‘What are the stakes?’
‘Something more interesting than money. I’ve an interest in horse-breeding and have acquired a particularly fine mare. I’ve also seen that magnificent black you rode here. It occurs to me that their combined offspring might be something out of the ordinary.’
‘Ah. And then?’
‘Whoever wins the wager gets the first foal. What do you think?’
‘I must be mildly insane.’ Mr Audley held out his hand and, when his lordship grasped it, said, ‘All right. I agree. But if something goes disastrously wrong and I end up at the altar, don’t be surprised if I shoot you.’
‘You’re not a complete idiot, Sebastian. If you end up at the altar, it will be because you want to.’
~ * * ~ * * ~
CHAPTER FOUR
Thanks to letters from Lady Sarre, the person in London best-placed to predict the arrival of Mr Audley was Cassandra Delahaye. She was not, of course, in a position to profit from her knowledge by placing a wager at either White’s or Sinclairs; but she did eventually impart a little of what she knew to Lady Elinor.
‘He doesn’t seem at all as we’d expected. He plays chess, for heaven’s sake! That doesn’t sound much like either a dare-devil or a rake, does it?’
‘Well, I suppose he can’t be risking his neck or – or raking – quite all the time,’ replied her ladyship dubiously. ‘But I must admit it doesn’t sound very promising. What else does Caroline say?’
‘The house is full of noise and dust, thanks to the army of workmen renovating --’
‘Not that. What else has she said about Mr Audley?’
Cassie rolled her eyes and sighed.
‘He sits with his father who’s recovering from an apoplexy and he rides over to Sarre Park from time to time. Aside from that, not a great deal, other than that she likes him and that he has red hair – though apparently ‘red’ doesn’t quite describe it.’
‘But he is coming to London?’
‘Some time in the next week, I believe – possibly with Lord Sarre,’ said Cassie. ‘But you are not to go round telling everyone, Nell. And I’ll know if you do – because people will assume that you had it from me and ask endle
ss questions. Also, I haven’t even told Mama. So --’
‘Or Olivia?’ suggested Nell, wickedly. And then, ‘All right – all right. Not a word shall pass my lips. I won’t even tell Harry – although I daresay he’d be glad of a little privileged information. Happy now?’
‘Moderately.’
‘Good. Are you attending Lady Vennor’s rout on Thursday?’
‘Yes. Unfortunately.’
‘Unfortunately?’
Cassie nodded. ‘Unless I’m very careful, Sir Alastair will ask me if he can speak to Papa. And when I say no he’ll look hurt and confused … and I’ll feel as though I’ve kicked a puppy.’
Lady Elinor gave a peal of laughter.
‘Oh dear. And I suppose his Mama is encouraging him?’
‘Of course she is.’ A mulish, slightly bitter twist touched the normally soft mouth. ‘Sweet, well-bred, eminently-suitable Cassandra Delahaye? I’m exactly the kind of daughter-in-law all the mothers want. As to what their sons want … it’s debatable.’
Her laughter fading, Nell frowned slightly.
‘And what do you want, Cassie?’
‘Not Alastair Vennor or George Pelham, that’s for sure.’
‘What about Richard Penhaligon?’
Cassie looked sideways at her. ‘What about him?’
‘Well, he’s very good-looking and has been seeking you out recently. So I wondered if perhaps …’ Nell stopped, appearing to change her mind. ‘Actually, I didn’t wonder anything until, for no reason I could see at the time, Nicholas told me he doesn’t like him.’
‘Why?’
‘He didn’t say. He was just vague in that annoying way men have.’
‘No. Why would what Nicholas thinks of Mr Penhaligon have anything to do with me?’
‘Because he wouldn’t want you hurt. You know how fond of you he is.’
‘Oh yes. He treats me more like a sister than my own brother does.’