Rey stared at me for a moment as, slowly, the color receded from his face. “Miss Woodmansey wishes to help us to find the killer?” he asked haltingly. “She has thought of a way on her own?”
I nodded.
He vented a gusty sigh. “I find there is nothing I can deny Miss Woodmansey. If we take much care to hide her identity, to keep her safe, and her parents are not to learn of it, I shall agree.”
It was a victory I found I could not enjoy. I was ashamed for several reasons, the least of which was my motivations. How could I tell him that I did it for purely selfish reasons—that I wanted to have a chance at love and being loved by her? It seems I had betrayed them both. But, what was done was done and all too soon I found myself waiting in the carriage as Rey rapped on the door to collect Miss Woodmansey.
I waited in the carriage in the dark of night, praying that the young lady I had invited to join me would have the courage to issue forth from her London townhouse beneath her parents’ notice. There was no moon and I peered through the glass, straining my eyes. I did not see her until she was almost at the coach door, which I leapt to open for her. There was an air of excitement about her; naturally, she believed it to be Evelyn with whom she eloped. What she did not know, however, was that Evelyn had no such intentions. He would have ruined her; left her without virtue or husband. I intended to arrive before him and rescue her from such a fate. She did not realize my subterfuge until it was too late. As I read her a lengthy lecture, I frequently consulted my timepiece so as to ensure that Evelyn had given up on her. Finally, I deemed it safe and deposited her in front of her parents’ house. To my dismay, she did not seem to appreciate my rescue of her virtue in the least.
My thoughts returned to the present, but the same aloneness that ate at my belly that night had merely packed its bags and made itself at home. Tonight there was a full moon, and I easily perceived Miss Woodmansey emerge from the house on Rey’s arm. I nearly laughed aloud at the sight; they resembled nothing more than a pair of children draped in the garments of their elders. The emotions they seemed to emit, however, were perfectly real. Rey behaved as if she were already his, and she appeared quite happy to be at his side. Miserable, I wondered how I could possibly woo and win her from under the nose of one of my few friends.
They approached the coach in conversation both animated and hushed. It was clear they felt they were embarking on a grand adventure. I was reminded again of the young lady I had rescued from the clutches of my cousin. Gratitude filled me that no one knew of the night I had invited her into my carriage and driven off with her. I knew, only too well, that if details of that night were revealed I would not be painted the hero of the piece, no matter how deserved.
I felt the shift and sway of the coach as the driver descended, opened the door, and let down the steps. Miss Woodmansey entered with an air of excitement accompanied by a cloud of French perfume and a swish of skirts. She took up her seat across from me and the two of us shared a smile that I shall long remember. It was if the two of us existed in a world utterly separate from all others.
Then Rey entered, and it was as if a golden strand between us had been severed. He took his seat next to her and suddenly she was an ocean away. When he captured her hand and pulled it through his arm, I thought it a pointless act of chivalry. After all, there was no danger that she might trip and fall to the ground. She, however, favored him with precisely the same smile she had offered me. The gnawing sensation in my stomach stirred and demanded to be fed.
“I have never been to a gambling den,” she stated, her voice eager. “Shall it be very dangerous?”
“Not at all,” I said, just as Rey plunged in with his list of admonitions.
“Yes, indeed! But, you needn’t fear, for I shall keep you safe. You must wear this mask,” he said as he drew the soft black fabric from his coat pocket, “and you mustn’t speak so as not to be recognized by your voice.”
“Oh,” she said, deflated.
“I imagine there shall be other women in attendance wearing masks, Miss Woodmansey,” I soothed.
“We must refrain from calling her by name!” Rey demanded. “It is not too soon to begin. What shall we call her instead?”
“What about Miss Incognita?” I said, in the foolish hope my suggestion would render me daring and attractive.
Before she could reply, Rey had his own suggestion. “No, La Mascarada!”
“Perhaps Miss Masquerade would be better understood?” Miss Woodmansey asked.
“Si! Of course. It is best this way,” Rey said as if the proposal were his very own.
“Very well, the matter is settled,” I said by way of including myself in their plans, but I do not believe that I was heard. Miss Woodmansey struggled with her mask and Rey helped her, his short, stubby fingers fumbling with the ties and taking much longer to produce results than was necessary. It allowed me a lingering view of Miss Woodmansey’s back, which was quite lovely. All too soon Rey obscured it with the domino he arranged around her shoulders.
“This you must wear, as well. It shall make the mask seem less out of place.”
Miss Woodmansey gave him another one of her lovely smiles. “Thank you. You have thought of everything. I know that I shall be quite safe in your hands, Señyor Rey.”
As I lamented the willingness of young ladies to trust, my stomach churned. The fact that she was absolutely correct in finding him to be more trustworthy than I did little to console me.
The journey back to Berkeley Square was not a long one and nothing more was said until we arrived. The driver brought the coach to a halt as near to the door as possible, but his way was impeded by the plethora of transports in the drive. The sight filled me with relief, a feeling that was deepened when the door of our conveyance opened without the usual drenching of the interior with light from the house. If possible, the Manwaring residence appeared darker than it had the night prior. I thought perhaps Miss Woodmansey shrank back, but when Rey took her hand and led her out of the coach she seemed to rally.
I realized how short-sighted had been my plan; if it had been I who claimed her at the door I should have been by her side even still. As it was, I tarried behind like a dejected beau. Then I realized I was needed to say the proper words when the door to Manwaring House opened, and pushed past my friends in a manner that, to them, must have appeared arrogant.
I swallowed my dismay and knocked upon the door, which was immediately opened. “We are expected,” I said as instructed and, just as before, we were welcomed into the house. Once again, the black interior was alleviated by the light of only one candelabra and we were led up the stairs in almost complete darkness. Rey and Miss Woodmansey followed behind me; I felt their apprehension like a wave of heat at my back. It served to accentuate my continued solitary state. Sharply, I reminded myself of the duty I owed Willy to forget myself and do what I must to ensure his release.
As before, we were led to the second-floor salon. My breath froze in my lungs as I wondered what might await us on the other side of the door. Perhaps Lady Clara was playing a deep game and I would be made to seem the fool. To my relief, when the door opened we were met with a blaze of light and noise. I narrowed my eyes against its brilliance and looked about. To the right was the too-small sofa that flanked the fireplace. To the left was the portion of the room that, the night prior, had been in shadow. It was full to bursting with tables, chairs, a roulette wheel, and more gamblers than I thought possible to be contained in such dimensions.
In the center of the room stood a table groaning with refreshments; one side contained row upon row of bottled wines, a tower of crystal goblets, each one filled to the brim with champagne, and a fountain that sported orgeat. The other half was piled high with comestibles, both sweet and savory, designed to be consumed minus the inconvenience of wielding a fork or spoon.
The table was ringed with footmen, as well as female servants who wiped the floor and table free of the carelessness of the guests. Additional serv
ants stood all about the room, waiting to fetch and carry whatever a guest desired. I recognized a great many of them, including Mrs. Carrick, who wore a curled white wig under her cap and bright red rogue upon her cheeks.
At the main table stood Lady Clara, her smile glittering, as she greeted the passersby. As we approached, her smile grew even brighter. “My lord, how good to see you here!” she said, exactly as if I had not been in the very room only twenty-four hours past. “And I see that you have brought your European friend. I am honored by your presence,” she said as she turned her smile on Rey.
I sketched a bow. “May I introduce to you Señyor Rey of Barcelona. Señyor, this is Lady Clara, wife of Mr. Richard Manwaring.”
“Thank you for your hospitality, Lady Clara,” he said with a bow. “I have been most desirous to see an English gambling hell for myself.”
Inwardly, I groaned. I ought to have warned Rey that one might do as he pleases at an illegal gambling hell, save call it such.
Lady Clara produced a well-practiced trill of laughter. “You flatter me, Señyor, but this is but a card party. I do hope you enjoy yourself. Am I to know this young lady at your side?”
Rey stiffened. “This is Miss Masquerade. She is newly arrived in London.”
I found myself amazed at his deceit. I hadn’t dreamed he should stoop so low, even for Miss Woodmansey. At his words, she executed a curtsey just deep enough to imply that she might be of higher status than Lady Clara.
“Oh!” she cried. “It seems there is much about you we are not to know. How very theatrical! Now, I must see to my other guests, but do enjoy yourselves.” She took herself off and I was left to wonder exactly what step we ought to take next.
Miss Woodmansey rustled to my side and spoke so quietly that I could not catch her words. She wore her hair in a less lofty style than the night we had met and the top of her head did not so much as reach my shoulder. I repressed the desire to scoop her up with one arm; two would not be required. Instead, I bent so that she might repeat her message into my ear.
“What shall I do? I should so like to be of service to poor Mister Gilbert who wastes away in gaol.”
I felt immediately contrite. Willy’s plight was my burden to bear alone. “You and Señyor Rey should choose a table and watch a game. It would be best to listen for the time being. Perhaps someone shall say something that should prove enlightening.”
I thought she appeared somewhat crestfallen, and yet, she could not have been as disappointed as I. Sending the two of them off together was my punishment for forgetting Willy and putting my happiness before his liberty. I watched her walk away, her arm on Rey’s, whilst the beast in my stomach dug into its meal.
Almost by rote I headed for the corner of the room, but was stopped short by the sound of a voice I thought I recognized. Hoping I had heard amiss, I cocked my head and listened; I heard it again. With caution, I made my way towards the sound but arrived at the end of the room without encountering its speaker. Just as I counted myself fortunate that I was mistaken, the hated voice sounded from over my right shoulder.
“Trev! It has been too long!”
My stomach sank into my shoes and I turned to face my cousin, Evelyn Rogers-Riemann. He had grown somewhat corpulent in the months since I had last seen him. His thick brown hair arranged in the windswept style had more territory to cover along his brow, and his eyes were pinched into mere slits. Even his fingers had grown fleshy. “Eve,” I said stiffly. “I had not thought to see you here.”
“But where else?” he drawled, looking around the room. “I dare not show my face amongst polite Society these days. Rutherford has seen to that.”
A voice in some corner of my mind chimed: You are more courageous than he! However, I paid it no heed. “Rutherford has much to answer for,” I said as pleasantly as my resentment allowed. “I see that Lady Clara’s guests are far less particular as to with whom they associate.”
Evelyn surveyed me with a jaundiced eye. “It is the same with any club whose members are bent on debauchery; no one shall quibble about who is in attendance so long as all are discreet.”
I shrugged. “Quite naturally I am in no position to tell any of your presence here tonight, not without revealing my own.”
“Exactly my point,” Evelyn said, with a sneer that owed nothing to any scar.
I was startled to recall that I had once considered him a friend. And then I was reminded that it was Evelyn who had saved my life when Rutherford took after me with a sword. My cousin might have done better to let me die and inherit my title, estate, lands, and monies, but he had chosen me over consequence in the world. In my gratitude, I had confused his actions with genuine affection. In fact, they were far less noble; he was but afraid.
“I shall bid you good night,” I said curtly and began to walk away, but he put a hand to my arm to forestall me.
“Rutherford is not the only noble to present me with a list of his conditions. Am I to be so poorly rewarded for my deference to yours? I have stayed away from Society at his behest. I have refrained from calling on you at Canning House at yours. However, you go wherever you wish. Mark my words: there shall be a price to pay for your defiance.”
I stared at Evelyn in astonishment. “How can he possibly harm me any further than he has already?”
“You might be surprised, Cousin. He might look for help. He might even find it.” He looked at me, expectation glimmering beneath the heavy lids of his eyes.
“Ho! Do you think he would align himself with you merely to wreak more revenge on me?”
“You may depend upon it,” Evelyn said, his voice cold as stone.
I stared down at his hand on my arm, then back at his belligerent face. “Unhand me or everyone shall know the truth about you.”
Evelyn laughed and moved away. “You shall regret it, Trev. Revenge is too sweet to resist for long.”
I wondered what he could possibly mean. Revenge? For what? In the past I had saved our friendship, his reputation, and even his life on more than one occasion. If he felt revenge a suitable response to my rejection, then I supposed he must take it. I stalked away with the heat of his gaze boring into my back, but he was immediately forgotten when I noticed Huther.
He was playing Hazard with a few others at a table near the center of the room. I approached slowly so as not to draw attention to myself, and watched as he noted the result of each throw of the dice. He must have been losing badly, for his dismay was evident; his entire frame shook so that the beaded perspiration on his forehead seemed to bounce along his brow. He was once again the timid tutor. When he turned from the game in disgust, I barred his way.
“Mr. Huther,” I drawled. “How fortunate it is that we have met.”
Chapter Nine
Huther scowled and attempted to step around me, something I would not allow.
“Clear the way,” he demanded.
“Not until you answer my questions.”
He gazed at me, stupefied. “I don’t know anything!” he hissed. When he saw that I was unmoved, he relented. “Very well,” he said, his gaze darting to and fro’, “but not here; not where we can be seen.”
Seeing the wisdom in his words, I took hold of his arm and drew him behind a potted palm in a darkened corner of the room. “When last we spoke, I neglected to question why you claimed to have received no letter of recommendation from the Gilberts when, indeed, you had.”
“I don’t know. I…” He drew a shaking hand across his brow, dislodging his sweat-damp hair. “I dared not tell you about this place,” he mumbled. “Such is my obsession that I am no longer suited to be a tutor. I had no intention of seeking such a position. Lady Clara had a position for me, but that was not information I wished to disclose.”
“And what of now; are you willing to tell me of the duties you perform in this household?”
He scowled. “I do what she asks of me, whatever that might be. I owe her a great deal of money. She feeds and houses me, and in return, I do
her bidding.”
“Would her bidding include the murder of a young boy?”
His face turned white. “No! I have already told you; I had nothing to do with Johnny’s death.”
“But you had already planned to leave the Gilberts’ employ for the Manwarings’ when he died, is that not so?”
“Why should I have? I had a position!”
“’Tis a good question. Shall we explore the answer?” I took out my quizzing glass and began to buff it against my coat sleeve.
Huther’s agitation grew. “It happened as I told you. I had a position as tutor at the Gilberts. The mistress…was fond of me. Despite the neglect of my duties, I never expected to be dismissed. To my good fortune, I performed a task for Lady Clara in exchange for money owed. When I found myself without a position, she took me in. It is that simple.”
I viewed him through the glass and was satisfied with what I saw. “I find that I believe you, Mr. Huther. Tell me, then, the nature of this task.”
He looked profoundly unhappy. “It was merely the delivery of a letter.” He crossed his arms and pressed his elbows against his hands to still their trembling. “That is all!”
I perceived that this was a lie. “From Lady Clara? To whom?”
He drew a breath and the air rattled in his throat. “Does it matter?” he asked as he looked about the room.
“If it did not, you should not hesitate to tell me,” I pointed out.
He ceased his survey of the room and returned his gaze to me. “Very well, then; I shall tell you. Do not hold me accountable for the fate that may befall you as a result.”
“You believe I am in danger?” I asked, rather breathlessly. I could not say if it were due to the elation I felt at the possibility of saving Willy’s life or fear for my own.
“You are attempting to discover a killer, are you not?” His eyes bored into mine.
“Then you do not for one moment believe it was Willy who did away with his brother?”
His face blanched again; clearly it was a question he did not wish to answer.
The Devil in Beauty: A Lord Trevelin Mystery (The Lord Trevelin Mysteries Book 1) Page 12