Return of Scandal's Son

by Janice Preston

  ‘Milady! No!’

  Eleanor patted Lizzie on the shoulder. ‘It’s all right, Lizzie. I only intend to poke my head out of the door. Peter is outside, after all. I need to know what is happening.’

  She wrapped a shawl around her, and approached the door. Despite her conviction that Peter—solid, dependable Peter—was on the other side, she hesitated. What if...? Lizzie was watching wide-eyed from the bed, knuckles white as she clutched the sheet.

  ‘Peter?’ she called, low-voiced. ‘Are you there?’

  ‘Yes, milady.’

  ‘Is it safe for me to come out?’

  The door inched open and Peter’s familiar face appeared in the gap. ‘I think so, milady. It was Mr Pacey that found him, but he couldn’t hold him. Some of the other lads are giving chase.’ He sounded disgruntled and Eleanor had to smile. What young man wouldn’t yearn for some excitement in an otherwise mundane life?

  ‘Has he left the house?’

  ‘Yes, milady. Agnes came up to tell me and John—it was John was put to guard Lady Rothley. He wouldn’t have got to either of you, milady. Not with us here.’

  ‘If you are certain he has gone, you and John may go and help the others if you wish.’

  Eleanor shook her head, smiling at the sight, moments later, of the two footmen bounding down the stairs with the eagerness of hounds on the scent.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  ‘I don’t think we should, Ellie. Why can we not wait until Mr Damerel is here to escort us?’

  ‘I will not be made a prisoner in my own home, Aunt. We are only going to Hookham’s and we will have the men with us.’ As a concession to her aunt, Eleanor had agreed that three of the footmen should accompany them to the circulating library this time. ‘It is broad daylight. No one would be reckless enough to try and attack me in public.

  ‘Besides, Mr Damerel is not promised to his father until noon, so we shall not see him until mid-afternoon at the earliest.’

  ‘That sounds encouraging,’ Aunt Lucy said. ‘The more time dear Matthew spends with his father, the more likely they are to resolve their differences.’

  Matthew had undertaken to go to Blackfriars to buy a pistol for Eleanor straight after meeting Lord Rushock. Eleanor did not enlighten Aunt Lucy. She still did not know about the pistol, although how Eleanor might contrive to practice shooting without her aunt knowing...mayhap she could enlist Sir Horace to distract her?

  * * *

  Later, as they walked along Bond Street on their way back from the library, Eleanor began to regret her insistence on having her own way.

  The pavement was even busier than usual and tension spread its tentacles from Eleanor’s stomach to encompass her entire body. People were too close, brushing against her as they weaved around each other. Occasionally a passer-by stepped between her and the two footmen behind her, and her heart would pound and her palms grow clammy. Why hadn’t she simply postponed her visit to Hookham’s? There were too many people, all hurrying about their daily business: too much jostling, too much noise, too much traffic. The din from the passing wagons, carriages and hackneys—rattling over the cobbles, their drivers losing patience, shouting at their horses and each other alike—was tremendous.

  They were often forced into single file, with Aunt Lucy and William ahead of Eleanor and Peter and John behind. A sudden surge in the crowd forced strangers both in front and behind Eleanor, there was an outcry from the middle of the swarming mass of people and then a hard shove knocked Eleanor off her feet. There was a flurry of movement as a crew of urchins scuttled past, into the road, dodging the traffic, as a cry of ‘Stop, thief!’ rang out.

  Eleanor landed with a painful bump on her bottom, her heart seized with fright. For one awful moment...she struggled to catch her breath, eyes screwed shut in an attempt to pretend it had not happened, knowing it was only by the merest good fortune she had not landed in the road itself, under the iron-clad, dinner-plate-sized hooves of the straining workhorses hauling a coal wagon past at that very moment.

  An accident. That’s all. Nothing to worry about, just a gang of pickpockets. She forced her lids open, looked in vain for her servants and Aunt Lucy. Nowhere to be seen. Strangers crowded her vision—all craning their necks to see what had happened.

  ‘Allow me.’

  Breathless, shaking, Eleanor turned her head to stare up into dark eyes lit with a sardonic gleam.

  ‘Why,’ the speaker proclaimed, ‘if it ain’t my little coz, Eleanor. Well met, my dear.’ He smiled, his handsome face lighting up.

  She stared at him. Recognition dawned. ‘Hugo! It’s you.’ Her relief was indescribable. At that moment, she could have kissed him.

  ‘It is indeed. And why, may I ask, are you sitting on the pavement in Bond Street? You could have afforded a hackney coach if you were that tired.’

  ‘Do try not to be so ridiculous,’ Eleanor retorted. ‘That’s just like you—always funning. Help me up, Hugo, please; we are providing everyone with quite a spectacle here.’

  ‘You are, you mean,’ he said. ‘I was simply passing by, mindin’ my own business.’

  ‘Are you all right, milady?’ She looked up to the welcome sight of William, Peter and John as they shouldered through the onlookers. ‘The crowd...it was impossible...’

  ‘I’m fine,’ she said. ‘Where is her ladyship?’

  Peter plunged back into the surrounding throng, presumably to look for Aunt Lucy. Hugo helped Eleanor to her feet and helped her to brush the dust and debris from her clothes.

  ‘Three footmen, my dear? I had not realised you were of such consequence.’

  Eleanor bit her lip against a bubble of laughter. ‘I will explain later,’ she said as Aunt Lucy was shepherded through the gathered spectators by Peter.

  ‘Ellie! What happened?’ Her frantic gaze was glued to Eleanor’s face.

  Eleanor looked up. ‘I was knocked over,’ she said.

  ‘Attacked?’ Aunt Lucy shrieked. ‘By him?’

  ‘Not attacked, no.’ Eleanor told her aunt what had happened.

  ‘Good morning, Mama.’

  Aunt Lucy shrieked again, this time a happy sound. ‘Hugo. It’s you.’

  ‘It is, isn’t it,’ he agreed, ‘as I have already confirmed to Eleanor. I was not aware you were coming to town, Mama.’

  ‘I wrote and told you, Hugo.’

  ‘Ah, did you indeed? That might explain it.’

  ‘Explain what?’

  ‘Why I didn’t know, of course, m’dear. Been out of town. Rusticating. Only got back last night.’ There was a pause. ‘Now I come to think of it, there was a pile of letters and suchlike on my desk.’

  ‘And you didn’t think it important to look through them this morning?’

  A pained expression appeared on Hugo’s face. ‘I thought they must be bills, m’dear. Far too unpleasant this early in the day. I was just heading to my club. To fortify m’self, you understand. But you still haven’t told me what you are doing in town?’

  ‘I came with Eleanor, to lend her countenance, you know, whilst the repairs were carried out.’

  ‘Repairs? And, please do forgive my curiosity, but why would you think Eleanor had been attacked?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’ Eleanor shivered, her legs suddenly like jelly.

  Hugo put his arm around her and gave her a squeeze. ‘C’mon, Coz, let’s get you home.’ He flagged down a passing hackney. ‘Your men can walk back.’

  Once inside the coach, Hugo eyed Eleanor with concern.

  ‘I am unharmed, Hugo, truly I am.’

  ‘If you say so, m’dear. I shall, however, expect a full account of what has been going on once you’re safely home. Lucas’d have my guts for garters if anything happened to you—or to Mama—on my watch. Besides which, as you may have noticed, she’s the only the mother I have.’

  He winked at Aunt Lucy, whose cheeks glowed as she beamed. ‘You are such a good, kind son.’

  Hugo grimaced. ‘Hush now, Mama; I do h
ave a reputation to uphold, you know.’

  Eleanor let their words wash over her and she breathed a sigh of relief as the carriage drew up in Upper Brook Street.

  * * *

  Matthew paced the drawing-room carpet in Eleanor’s house. The news with which Pacey had greeted him when he arrived in Upper Brook Street five minutes before had shaken him to the core and driven his doubts over the wisdom of that bank loan clean from his head.

  ‘Wise move, getting this for her ladyship,’ said Sir Horace, turning the dainty muff pistol over in his hands in the light from the window. He had arrived not two minutes before Matthew and was equally as troubled by Pacey’s account of the happenings during the early hours of that morning. ‘Fine workmanship.

  ‘Pleased to admit I was wrong last night, m’boy. The ladies are more vulnerable than I realised.’

  ‘More than I realised as well,’ Matthew admitted, coming to a halt near the older man. ‘I thought we had covered all the angles and they were safe in their own home. It seems I was mistaken.’

  ‘But the scoundrel did fail to get anywhere near Lady Ashby,’ Sir Horace said. ‘No need to blame yourself. The measures you took were effective—it was just a shame it was Pacey who discovered where he was hiding. Had one of those strapping footmen winkled him out, I doubt he would have broken free so easily.’

  Matthew resumed his pacing. ‘Where are they?’ He headed for the door. ‘The blazes with what Pacey says, I’m going...’

  Voices in the hall alerted him to Eleanor’s return. Pacey had sworn they would be home any minute and it seemed he was right. Matthew flung the door wide just as Pacey was about to open it for his mistress. Two quick strides and he was in front of her, searching her dear face, taking her hands, raising them to press relieved lips against sweet-scented skin.

  ‘Well, well. Matthew Damerel, if my eyes do not deceive me.’

  Matthew froze. That voice... Eleanor tugged her hands free of his.

  ‘I did not know you two were acquainted,’ she said. ‘Come, let us go into the drawing room. Pacey, some refreshments, if you please.’

  Matthew, speechless, brain scrambling to order his thoughts, stood aside to allow Eleanor past. She was followed by Lord Hugo Alastair and Lady Rothley.

  This was his chance. Alastair had been at that game.

  ‘How do you two know each other?’ Eleanor asked, after introductions had been made.

  She sank into a chair by the fire with a relieved sigh. Lady Rothley settled on to the sofa, with Sir Horace on one side of her and Hugo on the other. Matthew took the other chair. Hugo’s dark gaze switched from contemplation of Sir Horace to Matthew.

  ‘You’re back,’ he said, ignoring Eleanor’s question. ‘How long has it been?’

  ‘Eight years, give or take.’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Lady Rothley said. ‘Tell Mr Damerel about your accident, Ellie.’

  ‘Accident?’ Matthew recalled the general grubbiness he had noticed, but not really registered, on Eleanor’s primrose walking gown. ‘What happened? Are you hurt?’

  ‘I am a little bruised, no more. I was knocked over by some boys. Hugo came to my rescue.’

  ‘Hugo? Pacey said you took three of the men with you. Where were they?’

  ‘It was crowded. It was hard to stay together. I have discovered,’ she added, with a rueful smile, ‘the disadvantage of being escorted by one’s servants. One can hardly walk along Bond Street on a footman’s arm, can one? And you were right, Aunt. I should have waited for Mr Damerel to escort us. I only wished to return my book, it was hardly a matter of life and death.’

  ‘Unlike last night,’ Lady Rothley said.

  ‘Pacey told us what happened,’ Sir Horace said, patting Lady Rothley’s hand. ‘What a dreadful experience, dear Lady Rothley. You will pleased to hear, Lady Ashby, that Mr Damerel has acquired that pistol on your behalf, so—’

  ‘Pistol?’

  Matthew cursed under his breath. Why hadn’t he reminded Sir Horace not to talk of the pistol in front of Eleanor’s aunt?

  ‘Matters of life and death? Pistols? Would somebody please tell me what, precisely, has been going on?’ Hugo said.

  Eleanor caught Matthew’s eye. He interpreted her silent plea and told Hugo all that had happened since the library at Ashby Manor had been set on fire.

  Hugo stirred and rose elegantly to his feet. ‘It would appear that, despite my every effort to appear otherwise, I do have a sense of familial duty after all,’ he said. ‘Mama, Ellie, I shall see you both later.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Why, to fetch a change of clothing, of course. I shall move in until after this villain is caught. As your sole male relative here in town, I am almost honour bound to join the fray, do you not agree? It should not be the responsibility of—’ his gaze switched from Matthew to Sir Horace ‘—random strangers to protect you. However, I find I do have one question before I go—have you any idea who the culprit might be?’

  Matthew stood, gritting his teeth against the other man’s deliberate provocation, conscious he needed Hugo’s co-operation if he were to have any chance of proving his innocence of cheating.

  ‘You have one thing wrong, Alastair. You are not El—Lady Ashby’s only male relative in town. James Weare, her other cousin, is our main suspect.’

  Hugo’s eyes gleamed. ‘James Weare—well, I never. I had forgotten he was your cousin—and your rightful heir to boot, if I am not mistaken. The little worm,’ he added, softly.

  Matthew instantly warmed towards Hugo. He might give the appearance of careless, pleasure-seeking selfishness but with those three last words he had revealed his dangerous core—a good man to have on the spot, protecting Eleanor. But... Matthew’s spirits plunged at the realisation that his own indispensability was shrinking by the minute, what with Hugo moving into Eleanor’s house and the watchful presence of Stephen’s friends by night.

  ‘That reminds me,’ he said to Eleanor, ‘what did Weare have to say for himself last night?’

  Eleanor pulled a face. ‘The conversation was...stilted is the best description. He did ask if I’d had any other problems, and I told him about the man I saw, and about Agnes. He was uneasy and Ruth seemed timid.’ She paused, then continued in a quiet voice, ‘James was reluctant to leave Ruth and me alone. And when he did...’ she chewed at her bottom lip, her eyes haunted ‘... Ruth is scared of him.’

  Hugo crossed the room to take Eleanor’s hands in his. ‘Do not fret, little coz—’twill all be settled before you know it, now that I am here,’ he said, with a mischievous glint in his dark eyes as he flicked a glance towards Matthew.

  Matthew thought if his jaw clenched any harder his teeth might shatter.

  Remember. You need him.

  Eleanor tilted her head, a sweetly loving smile on her lips as she regarded her cousin. ‘Dear Hugo,’ she said. ‘You have always been such a reliable fellow, has he not, Aunt? I declare, I do not know how I should have managed all these years without such constant, devout attention.’

  Lady Rothley laughed as Hugo grinned.

  ‘Minx,’ he said and bent to kiss Eleanor’s cheek.

  ‘Before you go, Alastair, might I have a word in private?’ Matthew said.

  Hugo raised a brow. ‘Secrets?’ he murmured. ‘Do tell.’ But he followed Matthew to the far end of the room without further demur.

  ‘That card game,’ Matthew said, ‘the one where Henson accused me of cheating. Do you remember it?’

  ‘I do. And, before you say any more, and because I’m a generous sort of fellow, I do know it was a false accusation.’

  A hard ball of anger lodged in Matthew’s chest. ‘If you knew,’ he said, ‘why the hell didn’t you say so at the time?’

  Hugo raised a brow. ‘For the very good reason that, at the time, I did not know.’

  ‘Then you can prove Mr Damerel was innocent,’ Eleanor said. She had joined them, unnoticed. Matthew sighed. He should have known.

&n
bsp; ‘Ellie, my dear, this is not for your ears.’ Hugo attempted to usher Eleanor back to the other end of the room, but she held her ground.

  One look at the determined set of her mouth persuaded Matthew. If she did not hear what Hugo had to say now, Matthew would only have to repeat their conversation later. ‘It is all right, Alastair,’ he said. ‘Your cousin knows about the game and the accusation, although she did not know you and your brother were present that night.’

  ‘Lucas was there, too?’ Eleanor said. ‘Why did you not tell me?’

  ‘Lucas. Yes,’ Hugo said. ‘And, as this appears to be important to my cousin, I will tell you. Luke is your man. He was friends with Henson, until he caught Henson cheating. He challenged him and Henson just laughed—congratulated Luke on being the first to catch him out. Luke was furious and then, not long after, they had a huge row. Over some woman, I believe. However, I digress. Luke told me Henson admitted it was he who had cheated that night. He—Henson, I mean—thought it highly amusing that you had taken the blame.’

  ‘Why did he not say something to clear my name?’ All that time, he could have been back home, with his family.

  Hugo shrugged. ‘No one knew where you’d gone. There didn’t seem much point.’

  That was true. Apart from his father and Claverley not one soul in England had known where he was, or what had happened to him.

  ‘This is wonderful,’ Eleanor said. ‘Now you can prove your innocence to your father.’

  ‘I shouldn’t have to. He should have trusted me.’

  ‘But he did not. And think of your mother and your sisters.’

  She was right. Finally, he could hold his head up in the knowledge that nobody could point the finger at him.

  ‘Hugo, will you write down what you have just told us? Or, better still, do you think Lucas would write a letter, setting out the facts?’ Eleanor said. ‘So that you have written proof, should anyone ever mention it,’ she added, to Matthew.

  Hugo shrugged. ‘I can try,’ he said. ‘Lucas keeps himself to himself these days, but I shall use my best powers of persuasion. I will fetch my belongings and then, dear cousin, I shall write to my brother.’