by Stella Riley
‘My feet have not been an issue.’ Adeline stretched one out and peered down at it. ‘My back, however, is another matter and I suppose you’re right about husbands having their uses.’ She smiled across at Althea Ingram. ‘You’ve all this to look forward to, Thea.’
Turning a little pink, Althea said, ‘I shan’t mind. The baby will make it worth it.’
‘It will,’ agreed Serena Delahaye, ‘eventually. But before that you’ll likely find yourself cursing Jack to Hades and back and vowing never to go through it again. Trust me.’
Although she kept a smile on her face, Isabel Vernon did not join in the chorus of laughter. She and Philip had been married for over three years without any sign of a child and though she never spoke of it, she was starting to despair.
On the other side of the room, Nell was conducting a low-voiced interrogation.
‘Oh – for heaven’s sake! You and Mr Audley were gone ages yesterday, so don’t tell me you weren’t doing anything. You must have been.’
‘We talked a little,’ said Cassie, knowing her colour had risen and hoping Nell hadn’t noticed. ‘I asked how his father did and whether he’d visited Lord Sarre and --’
‘You’re lying,’ accused Nell. And then, her eyes suddenly widening, ‘He kissed you. Didn’t he?’
‘Of course he didn’t. Why on earth would you think that?’
‘It’s written all over your face, you goose. So stop prevaricating and tell me the truth. Did he kiss you or not?’
Cassie sighed and gave up. ‘Yes.’
‘I knew it! Was it nice? Did you like it?’
The words ‘nice’ and ‘like’ didn’t begin to describe it. Cassie had tossed and turned half the previous night, re-living those moments in Mr Audley’s arms. She said disjointedly, ‘It … I … yes. But you mustn’t tell anyone, Nell – not even Harry. It isn’t likely to happen again, after all.’
‘Of course I’m not going to tell anyone. And why shouldn’t it happen again? He likes you. I know he does because, when I asked him, he dodged the question exactly the way men always do.’
‘Oh God.’ Resisting the temptation to drop her head in her hands, Cassie stared at her maddeningly well-meaning friend. ‘Don’t ever do anything like that again, Nell. The truth, since you’re set on having it, is that he kissed me because of something I said and because he had the opportunity. It didn’t mean anything – so please stop trying to make it into something it wasn’t.’
* * *
At Sinclairs, eight gentlemen enjoyed a leisurely meal along with several bottles of wine. In addition to Rockliffe, Amberley and the other husbands, the party was augmented by Mr Audley and Lord Nicholas. Everyone noticed that his lordship did not so much as glance in Madeleine Delacroix’s direction when she made her usual brief, business-like appearance. Inevitably, however, the only person tactless enough to comment on it was Philip Vernon who, as soon as they had quit the dining room for one of the private card rooms, said, ‘Lost interest in that direction, Nick – or just abandoned hope?’
‘Neither. I merely got tired of the questions and innuendos.’ Nicholas’s tone barely escaped being clipped. ‘I imagine Sebastian is feeling pretty much the same by now.’
‘That is one way of putting it,’ agreed Sebastian, breaking the seal on a pack of cards. ‘Fortunately, I think my own notoriety was cast in the shade just this afternoon.’
Lord Amberley looked up from pouring wine. ‘By what?’
‘I believe,’ drawled his Grace of Rockliffe, ‘that Lord Anson’s wife pushed his mistress into the Serpentine.’
Lord Harry gave a choke of laughter. ‘Did she?’
‘So I hear.’
‘For a fellow who, to the best of my knowledge, scarcely leaves his wife’s side these days,’ remarked Charles Delahaye, ‘it’s a mystery how you manage to remain so well-informed.’
‘Yes. It must be.’ Rockliffe’s gaze rose from contemplation of his snuff box to encompass Mr Audley. ‘On the other hand, even I cannot know quite everything.’
‘God! If Rock hasn’t guessed the lady’s name yet, no one will,’ laughed Philip.
Sebastian shrugged and continued shuffling the cards.
‘What can I say? She was masked.’
‘I am always a great admirer of discretion,’ remarked Rockliffe. ‘Upon which happy note, perhaps we may now play cards? And since you have all been kind enough to answer my wife’s summons, I feel sure you will also accord me the first bank.’
By the time Rockliffe lost the bank to Mr Ingram, nearly all of the gentlemen were substantially out of pocket and the game broke up for a time. Seizing the opportunity when Nicholas sauntered out to stretch his legs and call for more wine, Sebastian followed him to say bluntly, ‘It’s not my business and I’m asking no questions. But Aristide thinks you might wish to know that his sister is repenting whatever it was she said to you.’
Nicholas looked back at him for a long moment. Then he said, ‘In which case, it is up to her to tell me so, isn’t it?’
‘Yes. But you’ll need to give her the chance.’
‘I’m here, aren’t I? If she wants to speak to me, she’ll find a way. She’s done it before, after all – and had no trouble at all saying precisely what she means. Now … where’s the damned footman?’
Knowing better than to say any more, Sebastian let Nicholas go and turned back towards the card room only to find his way blocked by Charles Delahaye.
‘Sebastian … a word, if I may.’
A small chill made its way down Sebastian’s back.
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t know whether to thank you for sparing my daughter annoyance or reprimand you for not being more discreet about it,’ said Charles very quietly. ‘And please do not pretend you don’t know what I mean. Like most people who rarely lie, Cassie does it badly.’
‘Ah.’ He managed a baffled frown. ‘Since as far as I know she had nothing to hide, I’m not sure why --’
‘No. Neither am I. She’s a sensible girl and she knows how to conduct herself. Equally, I do you the credit to assume that, aside from depositing young Mr Woolridge amongst the rhododendrons, no other impropriety occurred.’
No. I got round to that yesterday, thought Sebastian somewhat wildly.
‘The reason I assume that,’ continued Sir Charles inexorably, ‘is because if there was any truth in the rest of this ridiculous rumour – regardless of whether or not Cassie’s name was attached to it – I would expect you to have called on me by now.’
‘Yes, sir. Naturally, I would have done so.’
‘Good. I’m glad we understand one another.’ Sir Charles held out his hand. ‘You’re a fool, Sebastian – though not a complete one. But next time, don’t use your fists.’
Further along the corridor, Nicholas finally found a footman and ordered wine. Then, almost against his will, he hesitated for a moment, before spinning on his heel, taking the stairs to Aristide’s office and striding in without knocking.
Looking up, Madeleine promptly dropped the sheaf of bills she was holding.
‘Lord Nicholas,’ she said weakly. ‘Is – is there some problem?’
‘Not as far as I’m concerned,’ he replied curtly. ‘But I’ve been led to believe that you wished to speak with me.’
Her nerves snarled into a knot and she stared at him. ‘By whom?’
‘Your brother, via Sebastian Audley. Well?’
She swallowed, half-unable to equate this chilly, intimidating stranger with the laughing, easy-tempered man she used to watch from the shadows of the gallery. Then, summoning her courage, she said, ‘I believe I may … owe you an apology.’ She waited for a moment and when he said nothing, ploughed on. ‘Although I didn’t intend to insult you, it appears that I have done so.’
‘You insulted me most thoroughly, madam.’
‘There were things I didn’t quite understand.’
‘Clearly.’ Nicholas folded his arms. ‘If you want to apologise,
perhaps you might simply do it? I’m sure you’ve no more wish to prolong this conversation than I have.’
Colour flooded the porcelain skin and a familiar spark appeared in her eyes. For the first time ever, he watched her control her temper and found it curiously satisfying.
‘Very well. I apologise. I’m sorry. What I said to you … I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.’ The words came out in a jerky rush. ‘There. Will that do?’
‘Well, it’s hardly the most graceful apology I’ve ever heard,’ remarked Nicholas, ‘but I suppose it’s better than nothing. Apology accepted.’
And with his usual careless bow, he turned and walked out – leaving Madeleine wrestling with a temptation to throw something.
* * *
With the return of Mr Audley to town and the Lady Anson scandal, the Bedford House rumour slowly died down. Lady Silvarez, however, was still determined to learn the identity of the woman in the red gown and becoming increasingly frustrated by her failure to do so.
Recalling what she’d overheard, she had expected it to be easy.
That woman from the library – with whom I saw you conversing just the other day in the park and whose relationship with you isn’t hard to guess – is here tonight.
What that meant was that the female with Sebastian at the Bedford masquerade had also been concealed somewhere in the library of Cavendish House – and that Sebastian had known it. The knowledge made Miranda incandescent with rage. Whoever the woman was, something had been going on between them for weeks and was probably responsible for Sebastian’s rejection of herself – which wasn’t something she intended to either forgive or ignore. As for the rest, to the best of her recollection only two ladies were likely to have taken note of her speaking to Sebastian in the park; one was Anna Whitcombe who had been sitting beside him … and the other was the girl Richard himself had been driving. It had to be one of them.
Omitting the things she didn’t want Mr Penhaligon to know, she’d laid her theory before him and promptly had it squashed.
‘Anna Whitcombe was dressed as a fairy queen,’ he’d said. ‘I danced with her and her wings were a bloody nuisance.’
‘And the other girl?’
‘Cassie Delahaye?’ He’d stared at her and begun to laugh. ‘I didn’t see her at Bedford House … but I can assure you that there is no way on this earth that she’d have been on the terrace, wearing a red dress but no corset and being fought over by Cyril Woolridge and his friends. It just isn’t possible. In fact, it’s the funniest idea I’ve heard in a while.’
Several times since that conversation, Miranda had cross-questioned him about the possible alternatives, always to no avail. And now it seemed Mr Penhaligon was consumed with enthusiasm for a new idea.
‘The rumour lasted longer than one might expect and got bigger all the time. I don’t know why we didn’t think of this before. There’s no need to actually put Audley into an awkward situation. It’s enough merely to drop the odd hint of reputed scandal in a receptive ear or two and let gossip do its work. No matter how unlikely the tale, one can always count on someone embroidering it.’
Miranda nodded vaguely and continued staring into her wine.
‘That’s a good idea. But first, find out who that woman was.’
Richard was beginning to be exasperated by this particular obsession.
‘Why? It doesn’t matter. In fact, having virtually the whole of society puzzling over her identity was largely what kept the talk alive. Now – thanks to the Anson comedy – nobody is interested.’
‘I am. I want to know her name.’
‘Want away, then,’ he retorted. ‘You’ve consistently refused to tell me just what Audley did that merits this revenge quest of yours. Fine. But though I’m willing to participate in it up to a point, I draw the line at ruining any reputation other than his.’
‘What makes you think I’d do so?’
‘Why else would you want this lady’s name? I don’t suppose you’re going to invite her to take tea with you.’
Fast losing patience with what she saw as Richard’s idiotic scruples, Miranda wanted to scream and throw something – to tell him not to be so damned feeble. Instead, because unleashing her temper wouldn’t get her what she wanted, she hid it behind a seductive smile and said, ‘I’m just curious, that’s all. Tell me you’ll try.’
Tired of the entire subject and refusing, for once, to be charmed, he surveyed her over folded arms. ‘And supposing that, by some miracle, I find out what no one else has been able to discover – what then?’
I’ll clear the bitch from my path, was her instinctive thought.
She shrugged carelessly. ‘I don’t know. Nothing probably.’
‘Well, include this in your calculations. If the lady in red is unmarried, coupling her name with Audley’s in respect of a juicy bit of gossip can only have one result. Some angry male relation is going to hold a pistol to Audley’s head and demand that he does the honourable thing. I understand that you want to make the man miserable … but I suspect that the very last thing you want is to see him leg-shackled.’ Mr Penhaligon drained his glass and stood up. ‘Think about it.’
* * *
Having been given Rockliffe’s permission to make use of his box at the Theatre Royal, Lady Elinor sent out invitations to the Ingrams and the Vernons … and because she was convinced that a bit of match-making couldn’t hurt, to Cassie and Mr Audley. Then, when the first evenings of May turned unexpectedly balmy, she invited the same people to join Harry and herself for supper at Vauxhall before the weather broke again.
The party travelled by boat, arriving just as it was growing dark and the myriad of coloured lanterns began glowing in the trees. Sebastian glanced at Cassie … and found himself unable to look away. Her hair was piled high on her head and an amber domino covered her pale yellow gown. But it was the look of pure pleasure lighting her face that held his gaze and made something tighten in his chest.
God, he thought sourly. How do I keep my distance when this whole place is just one great invitation to dalliance? I ought to have pleaded a previous engagement.
Cassie, meanwhile, had decided that the best way to avoid embarrassment over The Kiss was to pretend it hadn’t happened. Unfortunately, it only needed one look at Mr Audley – sinfully handsome in a black domino thrown carelessly over a coat of silver-laced dark grey silk – for her to realise that this was easier said than done. She stiffened her spine and made some inane comment about the grottos.
The party settled into one of the private booths where Harry had bespoken supper.
Cassie said, ‘This is a lovely idea, Nell. I haven’t been here for ages and nearly didn’t manage to persuade Papa to let me come tonight. He loathes Vauxhall - says it’s teeming with unseemly persons. Truthfully, I think the only thing that swayed him was that Jack and Isabel would be with us.’
Lady Elinor looked offended. ‘Not me?’
‘No,’ laughed Cassie. ‘Nor Harry nor Philip, either. Far too flighty, all three of you.’
‘I object to that,’ said Philip. ‘I’m a model of respectability. Ask anyone.’
‘Except Sir Charles, apparently.’ Harry picked up a small printed leaflet from the table, then looked up, his eyes dancing. ‘This says Tenducci’s singing here tonight.’
‘The celebrated castrato?’ asked Isabel eagerly. ‘I’ve never heard him. He’s said to be quite extraordinary.’
‘He’s that, all right.’ Philip grinned at Harry. ‘Did you see that piece in The Whisperer? The piece about him having – you know.’
‘Well, he had to explain those two children somehow, didn’t he? After having been divorced on the grounds of --’
‘That’s enough,’ interposed Mr Ingram quietly.
‘You read The Whisperer as well, do you Jack?’ asked Harry innocently.
‘No. I don’t. But I know the sort of thing they print and can be fairly sure it isn’t a suitable topic of conversation in mixed company.’
‘The most entertaining things never are,’ complained Nell. ‘I don’t see why men should have all the fun.’
‘If it’s any consolation,’ offered Sebastian, ‘I’m feeling equally left out.’
‘Tell you later,’ promised Harry. ‘And Jack’s right. The Whisperer is a wickedly witty scandal sheet which doesn’t hold back from printing names. Come to think of it, I’m surprised you haven’t come across it since you’ve --’
‘Oh look!’ cut in Cassie, brightly. ‘A fellow on stilts! How on earth do you suppose they get up there to begin with?’
Harry looked mildly startled but took the interruption in good part. Sebastian turned a long, thoughtful look on Cassie and, as soon as the opportunity presented itself, said softly, ‘Don’t tell me. The Whisperer features in your sister’s extensive collection?’
‘It is my sister’s collection,’ she replied. ‘With all mentions of you marked up in red. That’s why I had to stop Harry. He might have seen some of those pieces – but I doubt if Isabel or Jack or Thea ever has.’
‘Ah. That bad, were they?’
‘I don’t know because I haven’t read them. But I doubt they were worse than some of the things sharing the page with them. If Mama only knew what Livy reads she’d have a fit.’
Over glasses of wine, the conversation turned to The School for Scandal and an amicable wrangle about whether or not it could possibly outshine The Rivals. Then, in her usual fashion, Lady Elinor insisted on a dance before supper and the entire party decamped for the Rotunda to make a set up for the quadrille.
Supper was a cheerful, laughing affair that Sebastian was beginning to recognise as typical of a Caversham gathering. No one gave more than a nod to formality; and everyone interrupting each other with teasing remarks regularly sent the talk shooting off in a new direction – which was why Sebastian wasn’t sure how the topic suddenly became the Earl and Countess of Sarre.
‘There was something very odd about that,’ remarked Nell. ‘Rock put it about that they married at the Priors but I have my doubts. One might suspect they’d eloped – except why would they need to? Also, before that evening at the Pantheon, Caroline and Lord Sarre were barely acquainted … then, in no time at all, they were married.’ She looked enquiringly at Cassie. ‘You know her better than me. What do you think?’