Salt Hendon Omnibus 01 to 03

by Lucinda Brant

  “She is residing not half a street away, at Antony’s house,” Jane informed her husband, and shivered. “That is very clever of her… To hide in plain sight…”

  The Earl stared down at her with surprise, before glaring at his cousin with incredulity.

  “Yes, she is clever,” agreed Sir Antony. “What better way for Society to believe she’s been forgiven by her cousin Lord Salt, and accepted back into the bosom of her family, than to take up residence with me. She even predicted I would come hotfoot from ’Petersburg the moment I discovered her guardian was dead and she free!”

  “How—How did her guardian die?” asked Jane.

  Sir Antony left it to his cousin to respond, but the Earl was preoccupied with his thoughts, and by the grim set to his mouth and his hands balled into fists, they were not pleasant.

  “I should have rung her bloody neck when I had the chance,” he muttered, leaving his wife’s side to pace the Turkey rug in front of the tapestry fire screen. He thumped the mantel with the side of his fist in frustration, upsetting the cards of invitation propped against a Sèvres vase and the rhythm of a French Ormolu clock. “I should have gone into Wales and dropped her off a parapet; no one the wiser. At the very least, paid a knave to poison her!” He glared at Sir Antony. “If you think I will sit idly by now that I know her whereabouts… Knowing she wants to slit the throats of my children—”

  “Magnus.”

  The Countess staggered, and it was Sir Antony who caught and steadied her, assisting her to a wingchair closest to the warmth of the fire. With Jane settled, he quickly went to the tea trolley and made her a cup of tea. The Earl continued to pace like a caged lion recently caught in the wild.

  “I will have her dead by my own hand, and tonight. She will cease to exist. We can all breathe—”

  “I cannot allow you do that,” Sir Antony interrupted calmly, stirring sugar into a fresh cup of tea, which he then gave to Jane. But as she still gripped the arm rests, as if forcing her body to be still, he set the teacup on its saucer on the whatnot, and on his haunches took hold of both her hands. “It will not come to that; your children are safe, your husband, too. No harm shall come to them, or you. I give you my solemn promise with my whole heart. Now drink,” he added gently, placing the cup of tea in both her hands and holding it there until she nodded. “It will help settle your nerves.” He smiled and winked at her. “I have already thought of the perfect gift for Sam’s twenty-first birthday, but for the life of me have no idea what to give as a christening gift! You must think of something for me…”

  The Earl rounded on his cousin, affronted, Sir Antony’s words finally penetrating his consciousness.

  “What do you mean you cannot allow it? Who do you think you are, telling me…? You, who have allowed her into your house, who sit at the same table with her, who share in her conversation as if all’s right with the world—”

  “Oh, for God’s sake, Salt!” Sir Antony interrupted, exasperated. “You never were one to think rationally about Diana! You disliked her before she married St. John. You hated her as his wife, and you loathed her as his widow! And ever since she was locked up in that castle, your dreams—nightmares—are filled with ways of wiping her off the face of the earth! She has half the battle won if you let her consume you in this way! If we hope to beat her at her own game, we must discover—”

  “Game? Game? This is no game! It is not some diplomatic conundrum for you to mull over a drop of port at the club! This is my life, the lives of my wife and children that are at stake. You know, you know of what that creature is capable, what she did to-to Jane, to our-our unborn child! You know she came close to killing her own son all to get my singular attention. She is a murderer of innocents, a procuress of abortifacients for others. She is a-a she-devil who, given a knife and opportunity, would willingly murder three little children! Do you have no feelings, no understanding of—”

  “That’s enough!” Sir Antony growled, furious. “Do not utter another syllable until you have taken stock of what you have just uttered. I grant you your genuine fear for your wife and children but do not—do not ever—question my feelings or my loyalty!”

  The nobleman needed a large dose of common sense and Sir Antony was going to give it to him, whether he wanted it or not. To that end, he did the unthinkable, something so out of character for a man who prided himself on being a gentleman with impeccable manners that the Earl was too shocked to put up any resistance.

  While Salt gaped at him, stunned at such an uncharacteristic outburst, mulish and immobile, Sir Antony grabbed a handful of his cousin’s silk banyan and tugged him forward. And once the Earl’s feet were moving, he took hold of his upper arm and marched him to the furthest corner of the book room to stand beside a library ladder. They were in line of sight of the Countess, if she turned in the wingchair and looked over her shoulder, which she did, but, if they kept their voices level, they were out of the range of her hearing every word uttered.

  Salt was so unaccustomed to having his immaculate person manhandled—no one had ever attempted it—and his conversation bluntly terminated, and by the mild-mannered Sir Antony, no less, that when his cousin let him go and presented his argument, he just stood there, silent, incredulous but listening.

  “Hear yourself, Salt! Think before you proclaim in front of the mother of your children. We all know what Diana has done and what she is still capable of doing. We know she is the devil incarnate, walking amongst us, who will stop at nothing, nothing, so that she can be with you. She has no feelings, no soul worth saving. Jane is being brave for your sake, you oaf. Within, she must be terrified and crumbling. She has three little ones to protect—all healthy and thriving, and yours. And how do you respond to her loyalty and bravery? You advocate murder yourself!”

  Sir Antony lifted a hand and dropped it again, gathering his thoughts, pleased his cousin remained silent with his hands thrust in the pockets of his banyan, face taut, but attentive nonetheless.

  “My need for justice, to see Diana out of your life and mine forever, is as great as yours,” he continued. “If I were conscienceless, if I had a shred of my sister’s malevolence, I would have remained in ’Petersburg where I had grown accustomed to my lot. That you dare question my feelings, and thereby my loyalty, cuts to the quick. Yet I understand what prompted it, and thus will ignore it. You are not alone in this. You have friends and family who will gladly give you their support, those of us who made that pledge. But first you must stop being so bloody-minded and emotive about Diana. And you must enlist the support of those who can help you play Diana at her own game.”

  The Earl raised an eyebrow in skepticism.

  “So simply choking the life out of her would not end my troubles?”

  “I don’t doubt you could and would do it. You almost succeeded four years ago,” Sir Antony replied. “It provides a solution and a certain satisfaction… For all of about five minutes…” When the Earl frowned in incomprehension, he smiled to himself, but explained flatly, “Perhaps you would get away with it, too. Diana would be dead, Jane and your children safe. But you could never lay your head gently on a pillow without your dreams being consumed by what you had done, and its implications. You are too honorable a man. You would quickly realize that you, too, are a murderer, and thus no better than the murderess you killed. And your waking hours would be consumed with the anxiety, that one day your children, Ron and Merry, too, would discover what their Papa had done, what he had become. You would worry yourself sick wondering if Jane loved you as she had before you became a murderer—”

  “Yes, all right! I have your mental image fixed firmly in my head, thank you!” Salt grumbled, hunching his shoulders, head momentarily turned to the bookcase. When he remained silent, Sir Antony continued,

  “And if you did not get away with it, if you were caught and put on trial for Diana’s murder—”

  The Earl’s gaze snapped back to Sir Antony, and if his close-shaven cheeks had been flushed wit
h the embarrassment of truth in what his cousin proposed would be his life if he did murder Diana St. John, they were now purple with anger at this further, and to him, outrageous suggestion.

  “No one would dare!”

  Sir Antony cocked his head, regarding his cousin with a small smile, not surprised a nobleman of his rank and fortune would smart at such a scenario, yet surprised that his supreme arrogance made him so naïve to the ways of the wider world.

  “You think not…? Perhaps no one of our society would dare accuse you of murder,” Sir Antony replied calmly. “I realize you can only be tried by your peers. But there are only a handful of persons who know Diana for a murderess, so you tell me if there wouldn’t be an outcry by the general populace to see justice done a woman, your kinswoman, killed by your own hand. Your family name, your rank and position, all would work against you. That you married for love and one of the most beautiful women in the Kingdom, who has an infant at her breast, and two other small children, whom Diana hated with a mania, provides fodder for the newssheets. You couldn’t keep the crowds away from such a trial. No matter the judge and jury are exclusively your peers. The masses would welcome the pronouncement that Magnus Vernon Templestowe Sinclair, fifth Earl of Salt Hendon, is hereby charged with the willful murder of—You get the idea.”

  “Yes, I do. Thank you!”

  “Then you must surely realize there is more at stake here than the preservation of your family’s honor. During any such trial, your defense counsel will do whatever it takes to have you acquitted by whatever means necessary. I do not doubt they would use the insanity card. They would have no hesitation in airing in public all of Diana’s foul deeds. You and I know there are women of our society who sought out Diana for her remedies when they found themselves with an unwanted pregnancy. Whatever their reasons for ridding themselves of an unwanted child, it was unwanted and Diana helped them get rid of it. Such sensational evidence would gain you sympathy from the bench but alienate you from your fellows; it would be seen as a betrayal of trust.

  “You would be acquitted by virtue of insanity but be a pariah amongst your own fellows. There would also be that tiny speck of doubt in the minds of your relatives and friends, if you have any left, that maybe, just maybe, you are mad. Jane and your children would be vilified, your blood and your memory forever tainted for generations. No chance of your portrait hanging in any ancestors’ gallery. No one would speak your name. Is that how you see your legacy to your son and heir when he inherits your title?”

  The Earl shook his head, eyes fixed on his Countess, who was sipping at her cup of tea, head turned away to the little leaping flames in the grate. He heaved a great sigh, as if defeated by his cousin’s words, and took a moment to digest the consequences as suggested to him. Finally, he tore his gaze from Jane.

  “What do you suggest?”

  “We must include Jane in our deliberations,” Sir Antony told him, avoiding the question for the time being.

  Linking arms with his cousin, he walked him back to the fireplace where he picked up the silver teapot off its warming stand. There was just enough tea brewed without the need to call the butler for a fresh pot.

  “Tea?” he asked the noble couple and when they declined, poured out a fresh cup for himself.

  Salt refilled his wine glass with claret, an eyebrow raised at his cousin. “This newfound abstinence and preference for tea… A ’Petersburg affectation?”

  “Ha! You have found me out!” Sir Antony took a sip of his tea, which was adequate but not quite up to what his sensitive palate now demanded in a brew, and added with a sad smile, “When this business with Diana is over with I will confess all… Caroline has the right to be told first…”

  The Earl and Countess shared a glance, and when Jane smiled knowingly at her husband he had the feeling that again, where matters stood between Caroline and Sir Antony, he would be the last to know. As he had no wish to discuss their volatile history there and then, he returned the conversation to the problem of Diana, willing to listen to whatever his cousin was about to suggest, having no thought but murder on his mind.

  “I want you to send for Tom Allenby and Rufus Willis: Tom to stay close to Jane and the children; Willis to keep a keen eye on the household comings and goings. Their arrival here will not seem out of the ordinary, particularly when you have the masquerade ball at the end of the week,” Sir Antony explained. “You both must carry on with your daily lives as if Diana did not exist. You owe it to your children and family to do so, and, more importantly, any change in your routines would alert Diana and she may change her plans accordingly.”

  “You know her plans?” Jane asked.

  Sir Antony shook his head. “Not yet. I hope to discover that from others. I have instructed a thief-taker to be her shadow. She cannot move without it being reported to me. But Diana is clever. Much cleverer than I, and therein lies my strength.” He smiled wryly. “She has always been the more intelligent of the two of us. Ever since childhood, she has never let me forget it. And because of that, her self-confidence will be her undoing. While I remain the suitably stupid younger brother in her presence, she does not suspect me, nor does she think me capable of comprehending her machinations—”

  “It is not true that you are not clever!” Jane argued, annoyed by his self-deprecation. “You have always been quick to understand people. You are highly sensitive to how people feel, which is a far superior attribute to my way of thinking than possessing an intellect that hypothesizes and strategizes or pontificates but gives no thought to another’s wishes and wellbeing.”

  “It is pointless to argue with her ladyship,” the Earl said when Sir Antony turned pink with pleasure at the Countess’s spirited defense. “Jane’s way of thinking is always sound. So is yours. I shall have Rufus Willis brought up to town at once. Tom has accepted his invitation to attend the masquerade ball.” Salt smiled thinly. “He would not forfeit watching you squirm under the weight of your new title and sash for anything. His words—not mine! Besides, he said he wants the opportunity to beat you at a game of tennis. Although…” He looked Sir Antony up and down. “I do believe Tom will lose, and I shall forfeit fifty pounds.”

  “Magnus!? You did not wager against Antony to win?”

  “It’s your brother who stands to gain,” the Earl retorted good-naturedly. He shrugged and looked momentarily sheepish. “I’d not have done so had I the benefit of seeing Antony before I put down my blunt.”

  “Then I shall give you the opportunity to win back your fifty on the tennis court before Tom’s arrival. I need the practice,” Sir Antony said good-naturedly, adding quietly, a glance at Jane, “Salt, when Willis arrives, have him look into your household. Diana stopped in Hendon the day of Sam’s birth, on her way to London. As Diana does not breathe without purpose, there has to be a reason she was lurking so close to the estate.”

  He returned his empty cup and saucer to the tea tray then addressed the Earl.

  “There is no easy way to ask this, so I shall just come out with it. I want you to invite Diana to the masquerade.”

  SEVENTEEN

  ‘WHAT?” the Earl thundered.

  “Antony, how can you make such a request?” Jane asked, distraught. “You know I cannot allow into my-my home a woman whose only purpose in life is to-to harm my children!”

  Salt pulled Jane into his embrace, and when she turned her head into his shoulder on a shudder, he held her closer and put up his chin at his cousin.

  “You have your answer.”

  Sir Antony mentally sighed. He understood only too well that what he was asking of them was distressing in the extreme, but he was also convinced the course of action he had decided on was the right one, and the only way they would discover his malevolent sister’s plans.

  “Diana’s weakness is her conceit,” Sir Antony explained patiently. “She will accept your invitation because it will give legitimacy to her claims that she has returned from the Continent forgiven by you, and beca
use such an invitation is clear evidence that you want her here. She will be so consumed with this idea, and the fact she has won a small victory over Jane, that she will let down her guard that evening in her efforts to show you how very necessary she is to your life and political success.”

  “That is not reason enough to allow that creature within the orbit of my wife and family. And if that is the best you have to offer in how to deal with—”

  Sir Antony met his cousin’s gaze without a blink.

  “If you do not invite her you will create the sort of scandal you abhor. Society has welcomed her back with open arms. Society will expect her to be in attendance at the social event of the year. She is your cousin. More particularly, her brother, a newly-created Viscount, is to be honored by the Russians. Her absence will raise more questions, and needless gossip, than you are prepared to answer.”

  “Damn,” Salt muttered through clenched teeth. He looked down at his wife. “Antony is in the right…”

  Jane nodded. She addressed Sir Antony. “Why? Why now?”

  “Why has Diana chosen to escape her castle confinement now and not before?”

  “Yes,” she replied. “Why come to London? Why not run away, go abroad? Anywhere is better than here, where she must surely realize it is only a matter of time before she is recaptured and reincarcerated?”

  “Running off to the Continent to live free and in style holds no purpose for Diana. Her only purpose on this earth is to bathe in the bright candlelight of your husband’s political success—”

  “Dear God!” Salt spat out with a grimace. “That just makes me want to be violently ill!”

  “No doubt your political opponents would feel the same urge to purge by such unadulterated adoration for the Earl of Salt Hendon,” Sir Antony quipped disrespectfully, which made the Countess clap a hand to her mouth to stop a giggle. He lost his smile and continued. “Diana is utterly convinced your rise to greatness cannot happen without her assistance. Thus, while you rusticated in Wiltshire, she too rusticated in her Welsh castle, planning and waiting. And then by some means, possibly the newssheets, she discovered your intention to return to the political arena—”