The Duke's Gambit

by Tracy Grant

  "They aren't the only ones who do," Cordelia said, "but yes."

  "After we were married, I hoped—But again, I realize fidelity doesn't always go with matrimony in our world. Mr. Derenvil and I hadn't talked about that. We hadn't talked about a great deal." She linked her fingers together. A sapphire betrothal ring showed on her left hand. "It wasn't that I was jealous so much. No, that's not true. I was. Rather painfully. More so than I'd have expected."

  Laura recalled her instinctive response to Lisette Varon, Raoul's former agent. "It can take one by surprise," she said. And she had been older than Lady Caroline, with less cause for jealousy, and less of a commitment from her lover.

  Lady Caroline met her gaze, almost shyly, and nodded. "But it was more than jealousy. I could tell Mr. Derenvil was troubled. I tried to draw him out, but the more I tried, the more tongue-tied he seemed to get. I had to know what was happening—because I wanted to help him, but also, I confess, to satisfy my own curiosity. One night we'd been to dine with the Castlereaghs. Mr. Derenvil was particularly distracted in the drawing room after dinner. At last he excused himself with a mumbled explanation that scarcely made sense. I couldn't bear it any longer. I told my father Lady Liverpool was escorting me home, but instead I slipped from the house and followed Mr. Derenvil."

  Cordelia's eyes widened. "You're very enterprising."

  "Isn't it the sort of thing you'd do?"

  "Yes. Now. Perhaps also when I was younger."

  "But you thought I was more spineless?"

  "More cautious, perhaps."

  "Caution didn't seem to be getting me very far when it came to the man I—to my betrothed." Lady Caroline opened her reticule, pushed her gloves inside, snapped it closed. "I followed him to a house in Jermyn Street. I didn't recognize it. I couldn't make sense of whom he might be calling on that I didn't know. I pulled the hood of my cloak over my head and stood by the area railings. I saw a number of gentlemen go in together and some leave, but no ladies. I started to wonder, but I didn't fully work it out until a crossing sweeper asked if I needed help finding a hackney and said this was no place for a lady like me. Then I understood what the house must be. I felt such a fool."

  "It would be a shock," Cordelia said.

  "I hurried home in embarrassment. But then I began to think about it. Simply visiting a house of ill repute didn't explain how troubled Mr. Derenvil had been. In fact, one would think he'd have treated it as rather commonplace. Most gentlemen seem to. I began to wonder if it was something about a particular woman at the house. If his feelings were engaged. That was when I began to truly feel jealous."

  "I can understand that," Cordelia said.

  Lady Caroline's gaze fastened on Cordelia's face. "Can you?"

  "It's one thing to think of the man one loves sharing another's bed. Not pleasant, but it doesn't necessarily destroy one's place in his life. Or his place in one's own. But if he's formed a lasting bond—" She shook her head. In her gaze, Laura saw echoes of the time six months ago when an investigation had drawn Harry back into the life of a former mistress from the time when he and Cordelia had been apart.

  "Yes." Lady Caroline gripped her elbows, arms hugged across her chest. "I actually thought about calling off the betrothal. But that wouldn't resolve whatever was troubling Hugh. I had to know."

  "Did you think of asking him?" Laura asked.

  "Yes." Lady Caroline's eyes widened, as though she was surprised Laura had thought of that as an option. "But I knew he wouldn't confide in me. He might even deny the whole thing. I couldn't bear to imagine him drawing back even more. So that perhaps I could never reach him."

  "And so?" Cordelia asked, in the gentle voice Laura had heard her use to draw out her daughters.

  "My friend Sally Arbuthnot has three brothers. I talked to her. Her youngest brother's been to the Barque of Frailty. Perhaps they all have, but Sally could get him to talk. He'd seen Hugh there. He knew the name of the girl Hugh had—been intimate with. Miranda Spencer." Her voice shook slightly as she said the name.

  "It must have been hard," Cordelia said. "Having an actual name."

  "It made it easier in some ways. The next evening I borrowed a gown from my maid and went to see her."

  Laura saw the start of surprise in Cordelia's eyes. It was scarcely less than her own. "You went to the Barque of Frailty?" Cordelia said.

  "I had to find out why Hugh was so troubled. She seemed to be the only one who could tell me. It's in Mayfair, after all. Only a few streets away from my father's house. I went to the area door and told the kitchen maid who answered that I had a message from Mr. Derenvil for Mrs. Spencer. That he'd been very specific that I give it to her personally. I wasn't sure it would work, but a few minutes later Mrs. Spencer came down to the kitchen. When she realized who I was—I couldn't think of any way of getting her to talk without admitting it—she said I should leave at once, but when I said I was desperate for information about Hugh, she took pity on me. She took me into a little sitting room near the kitchen. The maid who'd let me in brought us tea. So odd to be sitting there drinking tea with this woman whom my fiancé—" Lady Caroline bit her lip.

  "It must have been terribly difficult," Cordelia said.

  "Yes. Though in truth, she couldn't have been kinder. She said at once that I must realize the fact that gentlemen visited establishments like the Barque of Frailty had nothing to do with their fiancées and wives. I asked her if she'd want a man she was betrothed to to frequent such a place. That silenced her."

  "Yes, I would think it would," Laura said.

  Lady Caroline locked her hands together in her lap. "I sat there across the table from her, the teapot between us, and all I could think was how very much alike we were."

  Surprise again flickered across Cordelia's face. "From what I've heard of her, she rather resembled you. Perhaps she even reminded Mr. Derenvil of you."

  "Yes, a bit—that is, I don't know if she reminded him of me but we do—did"—her breath caught—"both have fair hair and blue eyes. But that isn't what I meant. She poured tea in the way I do, the way my governess taught me. She folded her hands in the same way. Used many of the same expressions. It was quite obvious we'd come from the same world."

  "There aren't a lot of options for a wellborn young woman who is cast off by her family," Laura said.

  "No, I can see that. I'd never really considered—that is, one doesn't expect—"

  "I don't imagine anyone expects it," Cordelia said. "Falling in love with the wrong person isn't comfortable for anyone. But for a woman it can mean ruin. Damnable."

  Lady Caroline's brows lifted. At the idea as much as the curse, Laura thought. "I wish I'd—but I was more focused on my own situation. I told Mrs. Spencer it wasn't just that Mr. Derenvil had been—patronizing her. It was that I knew he was troubled about something. She said sometimes it was hard for men to talk to someone they put on a pedestal. That she believed Mr. Derenvil cared about me very much. I said this was an odd way of proving it."

  "Good for you," Cordelia murmured.

  Lady Caroline colored. "She chose her words with care. But she conveyed that she didn't believe Mr. Derenvil was sure that his feelings for me were returned. I said what on earth did he expect me to do, fling myself at his head? I'd agreed to marry him. She said that in our world—funny she said that, 'our world'—marriage and love often didn't go hand in hand. I must confess she had a point. I admitted as much but said that simply went to show that Mr. Derenvil very likely didn't love me and had offered for me because it was a sensible and prudent match. He never said he loved me, not in so many words, and what words he did say could be considered pretty platitudes. Mrs. Spencer said she understood that. But that she'd rarely heard a man talk of a woman the way Mr. Derenvil talked of me. That, for what it was worth, she'd give a great deal to have a man speak that way of her. I asked her if she'd ever been in love. Odd and terribly presumptuous of me to have asked such a question of her, of all people. But somehow I found I could t
alk to her. Which I suppose is the same thing that happened with Hugh and her. Though under very different circumstances."

  "Did she answer you?" Cordelia asked.

  "Oh, yes. She didn't seem to mind the question. She said she'd had the misfortune to give her heart foolishly to a man who didn't deserve it. She said I had every right to be angry, but Mr. Derenvil was a good man, and that counted for a lot." Lady Caroline drew a breath, as though suddenly struck by something. "Mrs. Spencer must have come from a background not unlike my own. If she had met Hugh instead of this undeserving man who was responsible for her ruin, she and Hugh might have become betrothed. I wonder if he'd have found her as easy to talk to then."

  "I doubt it," Cordelia said. "I imagine part of her attraction was that she was from outside his world."

  "So he'd have been whispering his secrets across the pillow of some other girl at the Barque of Frailty?"

  "People have a tendency to put other people in categories and to make assumptions about them," Laura said. "Mr. Derenvil seems to categorize the type of woman he might marry as the type of woman he couldn't confide in."

  "I could shake him." The words burst from Lady Caroline's lips with sudden force.

  "Brava," Cordelia said.

  "I'm sorry." Lady Caroline pressed her hand to her lips. "But it makes no sense. Isn't the person one chooses to spend one's life with precisely the person one should be able to talk to most about that life? I asked her that. Well, not that specifically, but I said if I married Mr. Derenvil would this go on? Would he still come to her for confidences and leave me to sit at the head of his table and go into ballrooms on his arm? She hesitated, as though she feared she was betraying a confidence, then said that he'd been through a great deal in the war and it was difficult for him to speak of it to someone who hadn't shared that past. That stopped me for a moment, but then I blurted out that she hadn't shared it either. She got quiet for a moment and then said, no, but she knew what it was to be haunted by one's past. Then she got very busy refilling our teacups and said Mr. Derenvil could talk to her now, but she doubted their relationship would continue that long and that she hoped mine with him would strengthen. If I went through with the marriage. It was the sort of thing I could imagine my mother saying. Except that it seemed more direct from her. Less like platitudes. I'm not sure I believed her, though. I mean, if he couldn't talk to me now, why should being married change that? And even if he didn't—seek out intimacy elsewhere—I don't know that I could be happy with a marriage where my husband couldn't share himself with me." Her brows drew together. "I rather suspect that's the sort of marriage my parents have. But I don't think it would do for me. I didn't realize that until we went through all this."

  "Perhaps, for all the pain, it's a good thing you did," Laura said.

  "Yes." Lady Caroline met her gaze. "Marriage is so irrevocable."

  "Very true," Laura said.

  "Oh, dear." Lady Caroline colored. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to—to allude to your situation, Lady Tarrington."

  "Not in the least. It's scarcely something I can ignore. And it's common knowledge in the world now, for better or worse. I'm far happier than I ever thought to be. Far happier, I confess, than when I was married to my late husband. We were spectacularly unsuited. But at the same time, I'm keenly aware of the challenges. I would certainly counsel my daughter to think very carefully before she committed herself to marriage."

  Lady Caroline nodded. Somehow her expression at once held the trust of a schoolgirl and the worldly wisdom of a woman with much more experience. "In truth, when I left the Barque of Frailty I wasn't sure what I planned to do next. Not even what I wanted to do next. I lay in my bed staring at the canopy for the longest time. I couldn't possibly discuss it with my mother. Or even Sally. She's still inclined to view these things like something out of a lending library novel. And I needed to determine what would make me happy. And Mr. Derenvil. I couldn't be sure marriage to each other meant that for either of us anymore. At the same time, when I thought of calling off our betrothal I felt as though I were cutting myself in two. When Mr. Derenvil sent me a message the next day saying he must cry off his promise to take me driving in the park, I was conscious of a craven relief. I couldn't imagine how I was to face him until I had come to some sort of decision. I went about in a sort of daze all day, hoping something would help me arrive at some clarity. Then the next morning, my maid brought me my chocolate, all agog with the news that Lord Carfax had been arrested for murder in a Mayfair brothel."

  "Did you know it was Mrs. Spencer?" Cordelia asked.

  "Not at first. But it was easy enough to pretend to curiosity with my maid, and she got the information for me." Lady Caroline spread her hands in her lap, fingers taut against the blue velvet of her pelisse. "To think I'd spoken with her only twenty-four hours before—I saw Mr. Derenvil at Lady Sefton's rout that evening. I had thought I couldn't be more uncomfortable in his presence, but the look in his eyes—as though he'd retreated into some sort of hell where I couldn't reach him. And of course if I hadn't been able to speak to him before, I truly couldn't now. I knew he must know she was dead. I knew it must mean a great deal to him, but I couldn't offer him comfort. I couldn't be sure when he'd last seen her. Couldn't be sure she hadn't told him about my visit. Couldn't even be sure—" Lady Caroline broke off, as though not willing to finish the thought even in her own mind. "If you and the Rannochs are investigating, you must not be sure Lord Carfax killed her."

  "The evidence so far doesn't entirely support that," Cordelia said.

  Lady Caroline gave a quick nod, gaze on her hands. "We have to know the truth. I don't think he'll have any peace otherwise. I still don't know if we can risk marriage, but I know for a certainty we can't with this hanging over us. That's why I came to you. I couldn't bear it if anything I held back might help you arrive at the truth."

  "You were very brave to do so." Cordelia watched for her for a moment. "Caroline—"

  "I know." Lady Caroline met her gaze, like a duelist receiving fire. "For weeks I've been questioning how well I knew Mr. Derenvil, but when I heard of Mrs. Spencer's death my first response was that he couldn't have had anything to do with it. I couldn't be so wrong in choosing him, in giving my heart—" It was the first time she'd referred to her heart, and she drew a breath as though pulling herself back from a precipice. "But truly, how can I be sure, especially after everything else I've learned these past weeks? If that proves anything, it proves how impossibly difficult it is to ever really know another person. " She looked from Cordelia to Laura. "I expect you can't even be sure about me, can you? I've admitted I went to the Barque of Frailty and got myself admitted. That I spoke to Mrs. Spencer. I could have gone back the next night. Dressed as a maid, I probably could have slipped up the service stairs more easily than any gentleman and gone into her room. I don't deny I was jealous. That must be one of the strongest motives for murder."

  "Among others," Cordelia said. "But I'm not sure why you'd have come to us, in that case."

  "I might have done if I'd thought you'd learn about my visit. If I wanted to put you off your guard," Lady Caroline said. She pulled her gloves from her reticule and began to pull them on, smoothing each finger. "I no longer believe anyone is what they seem, so I can quite imagine the questions you must have about me. I'll confess that I'm afraid of the truth. But it has to come out. I don't see any peace for Hugh unless it does. Even if he killed her. Because, if he did, I don't think he'll be able to live with the guilt."

  Chapter 28

  "Did you see Hugh Derenvil the night of the murder?" Malcolm asked.

  "Who?" Carfax took a sip of tea from the cup on the table in his cell in Newgate.

  "Don't play games, sir." Malcolm dropped into the chair opposite Carfax. "Derenvil's enough of an up-and-comer you'd be keeping an eye on him."

  "Not a man one would think to find at the Barque of Frailty."

  "That seems to be a pattern. He was a client of Miranda Spencer'
s. He found her in her room alone just after midnight. Given that you went upstairs with her and later found her body, that means you left her room and then returned to it."

  "I said as much."

  "But you refused to say where you went."

  "Into a sitting room."

  "Alone?"

  Carfax shifted in his chair. "I didn't say more to Bow Street, Malcolm. What makes you think I'll talk to you?"

  "Are you protecting a source in the house?" Malcolm studied Carfax. "I assume you knew Miranda Spencer was spying for Beverston."

  "I take it that's a rhetorical question."

  "That's why you went to see Mrs. Spencer."

  "Given Beverston's position in the League, that woud seem a sensible move, wouldn't you say?"

  "Why didn't you tell me the first time I came to see you?"

  Cafax took another sip of tea. "I didn’t ask for your help, Malcolm."

  "Was it because you know Beverston's looking for the Wanderer?"

  Carfax's hand froze for just a fraction of a second on the delicate handle of his teacup. "What on earth is the Wanderer?"

  "You tell me."

  Carfax took a sip of tea as though to prove he could do so without sloshing the liquid. "This isn't your fight, Malcolm. Stay out of it."

  "That's what Castlereagh said." Malcolm folded his arms over his chest. "Are you working with him or against him?"

  "Malcolm—"

  "I can't stay out of it. It's connected to Gelly's disappearance."

  Carfax's brows snapped together. "What makes you think that?"

  "You're not the only one who can choose to keep secrets, sir." Malcolm met his former spymaster's gaze over the delicate teacup. "You don't seem surprised that she's missing."

  "I have sources of information even in here." Carfax turned his cup on its saucer. "Have you heard from her?"