The Devil in Beauty: A Lord Trevelin Mystery (The Lord Trevelin Mysteries Book 1)

by Ashworth, Heidi

  He stared at me for a moment then, together, we burst into laughter.

  When we had recovered, I thought to ask questions. “Tell me, Señyor Rey, have you gleaned anything of use to our cause tonight?”

  “No! No one to whom I have spoken seems to know anything about the necklace or the llunàtic who deprived Master John of his life.”

  Since I suspected he had not spoken to anyone other than Miss Woodmansey and her mother since arriving at the ball, his statement revealed naught. It was then that I spotted Canning bearing down on me. “Perhaps you might attempt to overhear what is being said amongst that gaggle of geese near the card room,” I suggested, “whilst I seek answers elsewhere.”

  As Rey set off without a flicker of hesitation, I felt myself a Judas. How could I suspect and trust him at the same moment? I knew I must choose. Quite suddenly I knew he was simply too ingenuous to doubt. He could speak a lie—of that I was certain—but he was incapable of not being found out. Everything showed in his face. Trust him, then, I would.

  It was then that Canning appeared at my side. “Trev, it was good to see you dancing,” he said with a fatherly smile, the sort I had been robbed of when I was the age Johnny had been at his death.

  “I enjoyed it excessively,” I said with a fond smile for this man who had rescued me somewhat from my loneliness. “I am happy to see you. I have learned something I hope shall exonerate Willy Gilbert.”

  “Truly?” Canning asked in delight.

  I nodded. “He is not able to don or remove a shirt on his own. They are long and cumbersome; therefore, someone helps him each night to don a clean one. He insists that the one he was wearing when he found his brother in the morning was clean; not a drop of blood on it. The person who killed Johnny would have had some amount of blood on his clothing. A man—or woman,” I conceded, “with Willy’s difficulties would have a sight more.”

  “Yes, of course,” Canning mused. “But can this be proven?”

  “It shall require the testimony of the constable, but if he is willing to say that he arrested Willy in a clean shirt it ought to be enough. The servants have all indicated the same.”

  “Very well, but can they be trusted?” Canning asked with some doubt. “They would naturally be quite protective of Willy. Bad enough to serve in a household where someone has been murdered. Worse for the killer to be one of those whom you serve.”

  “If you say so.” I knew he was most likely correct, but I could not like it. “I shall have to run the constable to ground and see what he has to say to it.”

  “Excellent!” Canning shook my hand. “I shall see you at home.”

  I smiled gratefully, and watched as he walked away. No one turned from him in disdain. He was afforded all the respect he was due, despite a duel with one of the most revered men in all of England. The difference was Rutherford—he was the author of my fall.

  I looked about for Lady Vawdrey. I wished to dance again, and it was she upon whom I relied to make me known to a suitable young lady. I even had one in mind; the lovely girl I had seen dancing with Mr. Gilbert. I perused the ballroom but did not find her, so I headed to the card room, skirted Lady Jersey and her set where they gossiped near the entrance, and went straight to Lady Vawdrey.

  I found her deep in a game of whist, and I stood for some time waiting to be acknowledged. I am a marquis and she only the widow of an earl, but she has always made it much known that she believes age to take precedence over even a superior title. Or perhaps it is merely she, herself, whom she feels to be above her betters.

  Finally she lifted her head and addressed me. “Trevelin! What is it?”

  “I thought,” I said with a patience I did not feel, “that perhaps you would introduce me to the young lady with whom you play.” She was a beauty with masses of deep mahogany hair all done up in a variety of curls and braids. I could not recall having ever seen her before, and assumed her to be one of the Little Season’s debutantes. As such, she might not yet have been warned away from me.

  “I shall do nothing of the sort, you rapscallion! Take yourself off and leave me to my game,” Lady Vawdrey added with a sniff.

  I fell back a step, as if I had been dealt a physical blow. My face must have reflected my emotions, for the young lady giggled behind her fan, prompting my thoughts to fall on how best to achieve a dignified exit. I considered taking myself off in a huff, but quickly realized Lady Vawdrey’s objection had little to do with me. She merely detested being interrupted during a game at which she was winning. So, I bowed to each of the four players, made a show of studying the young beauty through my quizzing glass, presented her with my unblemished profile, offered her a faint smile, and sauntered away as if I had every young lady at the ball from whom to choose.

  Once I had regained the ballroom, I began to tremble. It was all I could do to prevent my frame from collapsing in a heap. It was as if the life had been drained from my body through my feet, which seemed to drag along the floor. It hadn’t been so difficult to hold my chin high since my first ball after the duel.

  I entered the ballroom and began to circulate. For every smile I offered, a head snapped away from me. It was as if choreographed. I knew the scar was not beautiful, but I had been accustomed to being thought of as attractive. It was then that I saw a young lady whom I had met at a Christmas house party prior to the duel. I smiled in relief, and she did not look away from me; neither could she hide the pity in her eyes. She gave me a curtsy every bit as deep as was my due, and I parried with a most elegant bow. And yet, before I had regained my usual stature, she had disappeared into the crowds.

  The memory gave strength to my spine. I had endured much since then. I knew I could endure this as well. Looking about me, I saw that Rey was again dancing with Miss Woodmansey. I wondered if he had overheard anything said by Lady Jersey before he went after his young lady. With regret I realized that I had best forget about finding a bride, and instead attempt to learn something of use.

  It was then that I saw Manwaring’s wife, Lady Clara. I was struck, as usual, by her effortless beauty: her skin was like cream, her brow perfectly formed, her nose charmingly blunt on the end, and her eyes and hair the exact same shade of deep brown, like a cup of the richest chocolate. I had been yet a schoolboy when she enjoyed her first season, or I might have pursued her myself.

  To my surprise, she turned and her gaze locked in mine. I was astonished when she smiled and began to approach me. I told myself that it was someone behind me whom she sought and that, at the last moment, she would merely pass me by. She did not.

  “Good evening, Lord Trevelin.” She held out her hand, which I dutifully kissed. “I wonder why I have not seen you of late.”

  As I attended most of the balls, routs, and soirees to which the Cannings were invited, I realized the fault was hers. “I believe it is you who has disappeared from Society.”

  “That is true,” she said with a sweep of her lashes. “You have not heard I suppose, that I have been entertaining at home most evenings.” She bit her lip, and gazed up at me expectantly.

  I stared at her with no small amount of consternation. A proposition from both Manwarings in the same night hardly seemed possible. Even one was beggaring disbelief. “I beg your pardon,” I finally managed. “I am persuaded I did not hear you correctly.”

  “You needn’t look so alarmed,” she said, laying her hand on my arm. “It’s only a bit of gambling.”

  The conversation was becoming more and more fantastic. “I do believe I have missed some pertinent piece of information…” I hedged.

  “Oh! I thought you knew! I hesitate to say too much with Lady Jersey so near, but I can say that it is more like a great deal of gambling. I invite those I wish to see in my salon.” She gazed at me with a knowing smile.

  I finally understood that the Manwarings were running an illegal gambling hell in their home. This notion tallied very well with what had been reported as to how Mr. Huther spent time in the indulgence of a powe
rful addiction. That he had gone directly to Manwaring House upon his dismissal from the Gilberts was all of a piece. I was suddenly at aux anges to see this gambling den for myself.

  “Then for what do we wait?” I gestured towards the door.

  She favored me with a tiny smile, revealing a row of perfect white teeth. There was something about it that troubled me, but I could not think what.

  “I know of one or two other gentlemen who may wish to join us,” she said, raking me from head to toe with her gaze. It was like the old days, when I was admired. Then I realized that it was the emerald stickpin in my cravat, the gold watch fob, and the large silver buttons on my coat that had caught her eye.

  “I daresay it shall not be of any use to go there directly, shall it?” Now that I had a clue to work with, I was anxious to follow where it might lead.

  “I am afraid not,” she said. “No me; no gambling. Should you arrive before I, do not present your card at the door. You need merely say that you are expected.” She smiled with her perfectly shaped lips and disappeared into the crowd.

  I immediately looked about for Rey. I did not intend to drag him away from the ball, only learn what he knew and inform him as to where I intended to go. I found him collecting a drink for Miss Woodmansey. When he heard about the gambling den at Manwaring House, however, he was eager to join me.

  “I should prefer it if you were to remain here and see what else can be learned. Did Lady Jersey say anything of interest?”

  “Not within my hearing,” Rey said, regretful. “It is almost as if no one has a care for who has killed Johnny!”

  I grunted. “The premier offender is Mr. Gilbert. I have seen him here tonight, dancing with a young lady.”

  Rey’s frown was ferocious. “He is a man most callous! This displeases me to the utmost. I shall stay and watch what he does.”

  “Thank you. I was going to suggest the same.” I immediately quit the room, descended to the ground floor, and requested my carriage. I alighted at Canning House and walked the short distance to Manwaring House on the side of the square perpendicular to Hampton House. I made it my business to look around. A glance down each side of the house towards the back availed me nothing—the glow of the street lamps did not reach so far. I noticed that the lamps on the house that bracketed the door were dark. It seemed Lady Clara was scrupulous when it came to the protection of her visitors. I then crept up to the railing that lined the steps down to the basement kitchen. I was surprised to see that a man scurried up the steps.

  Quickly, I darted into the shadows and waited for the man to emerge. Once he made it to the lighted walkway, I could see that it was Huther. He had a bottle and was drinking from it quite freely as he set off along the square. Whether he had some destination in mind or simply wished to drink in peace, I did not know. I watched him only briefly before another coach came to a halt in front of the house. Lady Clara alighted. She must have seen Huther, but she gave no sign. I stayed in the shadows until she disappeared into the inky blackness at the door and the coach had driven away to the mews behind the house.

  I waited a moment longer, then went to the front door and rapped upon it. I wished to arrive before the others, whoever they might be. A very proper butler pulled open the door. He asked no questions as he waited for me to act.

  “I am expected,” I said, somewhat doubtful this would win me entre into the house. In that I was wrong, for the butler drew the door wide and gestured me inside. The front hall was drenched in shadows. Only one tall branch of candles was lit and it stood at a distance from the door. I realized this was to prevent illumination from falling on any caller’s face when the door was pulled to.

  He took my hat and gloves and led me up the grand staircase to the first floor by the light of single candle. I expected a gaming den to be arranged in a ballroom and was surprised when we went ‘round the banister and continued up to the second floor, where the rooms generally were smaller and reserved for the residents of the home. I began to doubt that a gaming den was my eventual destination.

  Finally, the butler rapped on a door; it was opened to reveal a very intimate gathering, indeed. Rather than a crowd of people playing at numerous tables about the room, there was one table by the fire. Drawn up to it was a small chaise upon which Lady Clara reposed, a glass in her hand. This room was almost entirely plunged in darkness as well, and the dancing of the flames was reflected in the deep red of her silk ball gown. No one else was in the room save the footman, whom she dismissed with a wave of her hand.

  As the door closed behind me, I considered my options. The light was so scarce that I could not adequately plumb the depth of the room, nor did I know what, or who, it might contain. Choosing to ignore my misgivings, I spread my hands wide in surprise. “What of the others you invited here tonight?”

  “They each felt that they had been separated from their money at my establishment far too often,” she said with a pout. Then she brought the glass to her lips and eyed me over the rim. “You, however, look as if you could use a good game.”

  “There are limited games for two to play,” I pointed out.

  She shrugged a shoulder, smooth as marble. “I am persuaded you can afford to take the risk, my lord.”

  Money was one of the few resources I had not endured a loss of during the course of the year. It was a pity as, to me, it was worth the least of all that I once had. “Let us be honest—we are not here to gamble; at least, not with money.”

  She heaved a deep sigh, one that afforded me a shocking view of her ample bosom. And then she proposed an offer I found difficult to refuse.

  Chapter Seven

  “Will you not sit down?” She patted the too-small space next to her on the divan.

  Briefly I wondered if my reputation as a man who dallies with married women was responsible for her comportment. And yet, something told me she desired of me a boon that was not of the carnal realm. “Very well.” I moved from the mantel to the divan at a pace that was neither too eager nor too languid. I had no wish to give Manwaring reason to call me out. “What are we to discuss?”

  She smiled as if she had been given a great gift. It made her look younger than her years and impossibly naïve. “I actually do invite men to my sitting room to gamble. Should you wish to come again on an evening when I am receiving visitors, you are more than welcome. If the lamps by the front door are lit, do not approach. Any other night is one in which players are expected.”

  “Might I hazard a guess: Your husband does not know I am here?” Silently I wondered when she would reveal the subject under discussion.

  “I’m afraid not; I claimed a sick headache. He will have assumed that I have retired.”

  “What does he think of your gaming hell?” I realized that I didn’t know what Manwaring thought about much of anything.

  “You surprise me, my lord. It was his notion from the start. It is his wish that I am entertained whilst he is consumed with his hobbies.”

  Since my conversation with Manwaring earlier that evening, I had developed a decided distaste for his hobbies. “Perhaps we had best get to the point as to why I am here.” I was not anxious for my scar to become one of a pair, and thought it best to be quickly out of the house.

  She heaved another sigh, though this one had little to do with enticement. “It is about the Gilbert boy, the one who died.”

  There was naught she might have said or done at that moment that would have caught my interest so fully. “Johnny? What do you wish to know?”

  “Well, I had heard you were asking a great many questions—my servants speak with the Gilbert servants. You know how that is.”

  In fact, I did not. I hadn’t the least idea what servants got up to when they weren’t executing their duties. “The Gilberts have asked me to discover who has killed their young son, it is true. We have no reason to suspect any of the servants, specifically, but they cannot be ruled out.”

  “But I had thought the older Gilbert did it. Was he not ca
rried off to gaol?”

  “He is perfectly capable of walking,” I said evenly, despite my vexation.

  “Carried or walked, who can know? Of course, I did not see any take him away! But, it’s true, isn’t it, that there is something not quite right about him? Naturally, it must have been he who did it. A man like that can’t be trusted.”

  “Why is that, Lady Clara?” Those who know me well would have trembled at my inflection.

  “Well, he isn’t right in the head. Such people are capable of anything.” I made no reply, but she seemed to sense my mounting anger. “It’s simply that I do not wish a killer to be loose in the square. If he is not imprisoned, then we are all at risk of becoming victims to a madman.”

  “A mad man?” I echoed through gritted teeth. “Could it not have been a crazed woman who killed William Gilbert?”

  She blanched. “A woman? How could a woman murder a child?” she said, choking.

  My head began to ache from the manner in which I clenched my jaw. “One with a lame arm and leg, perhaps?”

  “Let us speak of something else,” she said with an over-bright smile. “I shall be open for gaming tomorrow night. Do bring Lady Vawdrey’s house guest. He looks as if he should be amusing.”

  By that I supposed she meant she thought him rich. “I imagine he shall be pleased.”

  “Yes, but do you think he shall come?” she asked with an insistent hand on my arm.

  I began to wonder if she were financially embarrassed like the good señyor. “I daresay he is not much of a gambler, but he shall enjoy the company. Of that I have no doubt.”

  “Oh, well then, yes, bring him by all means. Manwaring shall be at home, as well. Sometimes he wanders in to chat with my guests.”

  I quelled the last of my anger so that I might pose questions of my own. “I wonder how you learned of Johnny’s death.”