The viscount was stiff with determination. He raised his arm and tried to strike the taller man in the face. Dagonet caught his wrist in one hand.
“I am not drinking, sir!” Hammond struggled to remove his wrist from the other man’s grip, and failed. “I accuse you in front of your friends. You win their money by base trickery. You are a cheat, sir!”
“You are resolved, aren’t you, my friend?” Dagonet replied wearily. “Very well. Since you insist. Lord Kendal and Lord Brooke would be happy to represent me. Your friends may wait upon those gentlemen at their leisure.”
With that he released Hammond’s hand, bowed, and left the room.
Viscount Hammond sat down as the room exploded with conversation.
In the hubbub, one of the viscount’s friends leaned close and said quietly, “Are you out of your mind, sir? Nobody believes the man a cheat, and I hear that Dagonet is the best marksman in the city. He’ll kill you.”
“It’s a risk I’ll have to take,” the viscount muttered. “I have also been told by the Marquis of Somerdale that Dagonet will stand there and allow me to slay him. If he does and I can dispatch him, the marquis will pay off my debts and set me up in the world. If he does not and kills me instead, Lord Somerdale will make sure that the authorities are informed and Dagonet will hang. If I don’t get out of debt I shall go to the devil anyway, so it’s a bargain for me. And either way, Devil Dagonet dies.”
“Good God!” the other man said. “What on earth does the Marquis of Somerdale have against Charles de Dagonet?”
“I’ve no idea,” Viscount Hammond said with a bitter laugh. “He’s his grandfather, I understand.”
* * * *
Catherine saw no more of Lord Somerdale or his grandchildren. She hoped daily that Dagonet would call, but there was no sign of him. She spent her days escorting her little sister about London to see the sights. The capital city was festive with preparations for Christmas. Not even the Punch and Judy show or the string choirs singing carols, however, seemed able to lift Annie’s depressed spirits very much. They did not raise his name, but both sisters found themselves looking about in the streets, without any luck, for a glimpse of Devil Dagonet.
Amelia was happy because David was home for the holiday. They all spent a merry enough Christmas day together at Brooke House, even though Lord Brooke seemed to have something on his mind and was often distracted when the ladies spoke to him. Amy put it down to the press of business. She had no idea that her husband had gone to see Viscount Hammond’s friends in order to arrange a duel with rapiers for one morning early the next week.
The duel concerned David Morris more than he wanted to admit. No one could best Dagonet with a sword, of course, but dueling was illegal. And there was something else. Ever since the night of the ball at Lady Easthaven’s, his friend had been in a very odd mood, drinking deeper and gaming more carelessly than was his wont, though always with a splendid wit.
When David had challenged him to discuss whatever was on his mind, Dagonet had only laughed.
“They say the gallows sharpens the intellect, dear Lord Brooke. Perhaps a duel has the same effect. You will have fast horses on hand so that you can make your own escape, won’t you?”
“I refuse to believe you are rattled by the Viscount Hammond, Dagonet,” David had replied.
Dagonet had given him one of his most infuriating smiles. “No, I am not. But I am rattled by my grandfather.”
And with that enigmatic statement he had refused to say more.
* * * *
Catherine was playing softly at the pianoforte one morning, going over again in her mind, as had become her habit, every conversation, every encounter with Charles de Dagonet. The memories mocked and teased until dulcet warmth spread over her face. At first it was as if a summer breeze stirred her hair and kissed her skin. But then— No! No! She stopped playing and closed her eyes. Tears threatened. For now she would burn, as if the desire of the sun to heat the earth scorched deep into her bones. She was lost. In longing. In a strange ecstasy. In a pain so sweet it took away her breath. In despair.
She wiped her eyes and forced herself to keep playing. She was a fool. It was no surprise that she had lost her heart. Women had been doing so for many years. How long would it be before he was able to get the marriage annulled and release her? Would she then never see him again? She couldn’t bear it!
She was interrupted by one of the maids. “There’s a person below to see you, ma’am.”
Catherine looked up. “I really don’t want to see anybody. Please say that I am not at home.”
“He was most persistent, ma’am. Said he didn’t want the reward, but what he knew was a burden to him and he’d be glad to unload it.”
She stopped playing in a jangle of chords. “What name did this person give?”
“Peter Higgins, ma’am. He’s a sailor. Said he wanted to talk to you about Lion Court.”
Catherine’s color fled her face, then returned in a hot rush. Peter Higgins! She had never given the gardener’s boy any more thought. All her efforts had been launched against Catchpole.
Now the memory of Mary’s voice, all those months ago at Lion Court, came rushing back. ‘Poor Peter Higgins ran off, too. He was just a lad really. I dare say it broke his heart.’
Peter Higgins! The gardener’s boy that Milly Trumble thought she was too good for. The name Mary had mentioned in the same breath with Catchpole’s, but that Catherine had unconsciously dismissed, and therefore not mentioned to Dagonet when she had told him in Captain Morris’s garden what she had learned from Mary. Peter Higgins also had disappeared from Lion Court before Dagonet awoke from his coma. Had he fled because he had some vital piece of information?
“Very well,” she said a little unsteadily. “Please show him up!”
The man who entered the drawing room a few moments later had obviously not been ashore very long. He had the sailor’s honest far-seeing gaze and wore the typical reefer jacket with mother-of-pearl buttons of his trade. He looked about nervously at the luxurious room, then bobbed an awkward bow to the young woman who rose to greet him.
“Was it you, ma’am, as put in the advertisement about John Catchpole? My Ma saw it and figured it might involve that business at Lion Court. If it does, I’d be glad to tell what I know. It’s been a burden to me these many years.”
“Please sit down, Mr. Higgins. My name is Catherine de Dagonet. Charles de Dagonet is my husband.” The words gave her a strange thrill to say aloud. “I can reward you well if you tell me the truth.”
“I don’t want no reward, ma’am. The truth is all you’ll get from me. I’d be happy to get it off my mind.”
“Please,” Catherine said. Her throat was dry and the words felt as if they might choke her. “Just begin at the beginning and tell me the whole.” She rang for the maid. “Please bring some ale for Mr. Higgins and see that we are undisturbed.”
Then, with her heart in her mouth, she turned to her guest, who had once been gardener’s boy at Lion Court and in love with Millicent Trumble.
Chapter 19
“Well, it was this way, see, ma’am,” the sailor began, sipping his mug of ale. “Milly was the prettiest girl at Lion Court, and merry and bright with it. Nothing seemed too high for our Milly. I suppose you could say that she was a flirt, though she wouldn’t look at me that way, and I mooned over her like a calf. I was just the gardener’s lad and hadn’t much in the way of prospects. She treated me like a little brother and would confide in me. It’s awful hard, ma’am, to love like that and not have it returned.”
“Yes,” Catherine said with a wry smile. “I know. Please go on, Mr. Higgins.”
“Well, she took up with a gentleman in the house. She was flattered by his attentions. I believe she thought he would marry her, but she ought to have known better. He was a careless, cruel fellow and didn’t really care for her. It’s just a casual thing with these gentlemen, ma’am.”
“Yes, I believe it often
is. And that was Sir George, Mr. Higgins?”
“It was, ma’am. Master George, as he was then. But I believe Devil Dagonet found out. And John Catchpole knew about it and he may have told Sir Henry. Of course, Sir Henry wouldn’t have cared, as long as it didn’t get known to old Lord Somerdale. Milly thought it was such a secret, but these things tend to get about. George wasn’t a subtle fellow, not like the other gentleman.”
“So she took another lover?”
“Well, you see, ma’am, Master George began to pay her less attention. I believe Devil Dagonet had confronted him, because you could see that George was trying to avoid him. Master George had given her some gewgaws and baubles, more than any of us working lads could afford, and she liked to feel important and enjoy fine gentlemen paying her compliments. So when George began to neglect her, and the other gentleman began to notice her, she didn’t say no.”
“But this time was different?”
“Aye, ma’am, this time she got herself in trouble. She told the father, didn’t she, and like a silly ninny she thought he’d take care of her, but he laughed in her face. Well, she was desperate. A girl in her position, she’d have been turned off without a reference and she didn’t have no one to help her. Sir Henry Montagu was a hard man, and the old marquis was a stickler for his grandsons treating the servants right. He wouldn’t have liked it, if he’d known that George had been the first to seduce Milly and had started her on that kind of a life. So if Sir Henry did know about that, he would have wanted to make sure that no one would spread the tale. Be damned to Milly and her babe!”
“I understand,” Catherine said quietly. “I met Sir Henry Montagu myself when I was little. So Milly really had no one?”
The sailor shook his head. “She was dead afraid, ma’am, and she wept to me that she’d been a silly fool. And George, for all he’d been willing enough to ruin her, would never have helped her. He was too afraid of his father and the marquis.”
Catherine’s heart was in her mouth. So Catchpole was right. Millicent Trumble had not been carrying George’s child. There had indeed been someone else.
“But why did she give herself to this other man?” she asked. “Didn’t she foresee that this might happen?”
“Milly never saw it coming, ma’am. The new gentleman had promised to set her up in a house in London and get her away from Lion Court, but all his promises were worthless. He’d given her ribbons and such frippery, too, and what was more to the point, started her drinking his fine wines and brandy, instead of the honest ale that was right for her station. Let her think she could dine like the gentry the rest of her days! She teased me about it when she saw me in the yard with my tankard. But he left without a thought for her. She was cruelly betrayed, ma’am.”
“But her lover was not Charles de Dagonet?”
The sailor laughed, his brown face open and candid. “Master Charles was kind to her, ma’am, and all the girls worshipped him. Such a fine set-up young man as he was, and always funning and teasing, and so dashing and handsome and all. There wasn’t a woman on the place as wouldn’t have given her eye teeth for a special look from Devil Dagonet. But there was only kindness there, nothing more. They all understood that. The men liked him, too. He was always fair and caring. Not like Sir Henry Montagu or young George.”
“So she turned to him?”
Peter Higgins nodded. “It was Dagonet as found her crying in the stable and offered to help her. She wouldn’t tell him what her trouble was, though. He figured it was still with Master George, I reckon. Anyway, he offered to meet her by the lake, so he could get her story out of her, most like, and figure out a solution. He sent her a note. She showed it to me.”
Catherine felt a rush of satisfaction. So that was exactly as she had surmised. Dagonet had not been involved with Milly, at all, except to try to help her.
“So why did he not meet her as he had offered, Mr. Higgins? Nothing else has mattered as much all these years, except what really happened at the lake.”
“Well, he set off to meet her, right enough. I’d followed her, do you see? I was still right sweet on Milly. I’d have taken her to wife, bastard child and all, if she’d have had me. But I was just a lad. No doubt she knew I didn’t know what I was saying. I hid up on the ridge above the spinney and watched her. She was already waiting by the lake, fretting and wringing her hands. I figured she was crying, though I wasn’t in earshot. I had some thought that after she talked with Master Charles, I could go down and offer myself, and Dagonet would back me up, and she’d marry me.”
“But Dagonet never arrived?”
Peter Higgins shook his head and sighed. “A gentleman came up Rye Water from the direction of the high road. He was afoot, but he wore riding clothes, and he was carrying a package. He must have hidden his horse down in the woods. When Milly saw him, she ran across and threw her arms around him, like her savior had arrived.”
“You think she knew he was coming?”
“Aye, she was expecting him, right enough. He pushed her off, though, and began to open up the parcel he was carrying. I could see he had presents in there for her. Thought he could buy her off, most like. She had no fear, our Milly. She would’ve been waiting for Master Dagonet to arrive and take her part, you see.”
The sailor hesitated and bit his lip, staring into the fire.
“As he had promised in the note,” Catherine said softly. “So what happened then?”
“It seemed that she spurned the stuff and they began to argue. I could see him waving his arms about. Then he seized her by the neck and started to shake her. They were right on the edge of the lake. I saw her fall back into the water. It’s the hardest thing I ever did, ma’am, not to run down there right then. I know I stood up and shouted like a madman, but the wind carried off my words, and there was no way I could reach her in time to save her.”
“I’m so sorry,” Catherine said. “There was nothing you could have done.”
“Besides, I saw Devil Dagonet coming down the path from the house. He could swim like an otter. If anyone could save her, he would. I was rooted to my perch, ma’am, with my tongue clove in my mouth. Dagonet came striding down through the birch spinney without a care in the world, but Milly must have already told the other fellow that she was expecting him, because the man in the riding boots picked up the package and dodged behind a tree and was waiting. Dagonet was a formidable fellow with his fists and quick as a hawk to react, but the fellow struck him from behind with the butt of a pistol, and he dropped like a felled lamb. It was treacherously done, ma’am. I saw the whole thing like a play laid out before me, and then I ran down as fast as my legs would carry me.”
“But it was too late?”
“Worse than too late. I reached Dagonet first. The gentleman had taken a brandy bottle, from the parcel he’d brought for Milly, most like, and was pouring the liquor over Dagonet’s mouth and chin. Then he sopped some into his clothes so he would smell like he’d been drinking, and left the bottle by Dagonet’s hand where he might seem to have dropped it. He took off after that into the woods like the hounds of hell was on his heels, taking the rest of the stuff with him. I heard his horse’s hooves thundering away. You’ll understand, though, that all my thoughts were for Milly.”
And Catherine did understand. Peter Higgins’ sweetheart had fallen into the lake, and could maybe still be saved. No wonder the lad had left Dagonet where he lay.
“But you could not save her, could you?”
The sailor’s face crumpled. “She was drowned, ma’am. I doubt that the fellow had really meant to kill her. He probably just meant to frighten her and make her keep her mouth closed, but she was dead all right. Milly couldn’t swim. She’d have sunk like a stone. I pulled her from the water into the reeds and wept over her, but it was all to no good. Poor Milly! She wasn’t the first girl to be blinded by a fine gentleman’s sweet words and she won’t be the last.”
“Why didn’t you tell anyone what you had seen?”
Catherine waited quietly, her heart thumping beneath her bodice.
Peter Higgins took another sip of ale. “I can see it was wrong now, of course,” he said at last, “but I didn’t even get my things together. I ran off for Bristol, and soon enough I was taken on as a cabin boy in the East India fleet and I put Lion Court behind me. The sea’s my life now. I think about Milly sometimes, and how things might have turned out if Master George had never cast his eye on her, but you can’t change the past, they say. When my Ma told me, though, when I was between ships this time, that someone had inquired in the newspaper about John Catchpole, I couldn’t stay silent. Ma heard that Devil Dagonet had taken the blame. It’s time things were put right.”
“Past time, Mr. Higgins.”
Yet how could she blame him? He was very possibly younger than herself, and had seen his sweetheart murdered before his eyes. No wonder he had run away!
“And the gentleman that betrayed Milly and let her fall into the lake. Did you not want justice?”
“The good Lord took his own justice, ma’am. The fellow died within a few months, of the smallpox, I heard.”
“And he was someone that you knew?”
“Well, of course,” Peter Higgins replied. “I can tell you his name.”
Chapter 20
Percival Blythe, Marquis of Somerdale, was feeling very old. The pain from his gouty leg was making him roar more than usual at the servants. How could his favorite grandson have become such a profligate? When the servant girl at Lion Court had been found drowned and Dagonet brought up to the house passed out from drink, he still wouldn’t have believed the lad guilty if Sir Henry Montagu had not told him that he knew it was Dagonet who had seduced her.
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