“Do you think so, Lady Winters?” said Georgiana. “Surely if the Crimson Cavalier held you up, he would hardly expect Sir Robert to be travelling on the same stretch of road with anything of value the very next night? Besides, even if a highwayman was in the vicinity, it does not necessarily make him a murderer.”
“Miss Grey has an excellent point, Aunt Beatrice,” said Lakesby, to Georgiana’s surprise.
“Oh, really, Maxwell, does it matter? If it was not the same highwayman, it was certainly one of that breed. Every one of them should be brought to justice, regardless of which one committed which crime.”
“Ah, a blanket approach to justice,” murmured Georgiana in a tone audible only to Lakesby. He caught her eye, challenging her to join in his amusement. She struggled to defy him, aware her own thoughts seemed to be echoing his. Yet his manner galled her. He was too sure of himself, and worse, seemed sure of her.
Georgiana’s reflections were interrupted by the sound of a familiar voice speaking her name just behind her. She turned to face the surprised and, she thought, slightly shocked, face of her brother.
Blast him! Georgiana thought, although her tone gave nothing away. Unlike her cousin, she did not manage to greet him with pleasure, though her voice was cool and level.
“Hello, Edward. What are you doing here?”
“I was about to ask you that very question.” His disapproving glance took in Lakesby, who had risen to face him. Lakesby forestalled Georgiana’s introduction.
“Your brother and I are already acquainted, Miss Grey, although I don’t believe he has met my cousin. Louisa, this is Mr Grey, Miss Grey’s brother. My cousin, Miss Winters.”
Louisa curtsied and gave a pretty, “How do you do”. Edward nodded in perfunctory fashion before returning his attention to his sister.
“I have just seen Mrs Woolton. I understood you and Selina were part of her party. I had not expected to find you here.”
“I saw Mr Lakesby when I went to fetch some supper,” said Georgiana. “He very kindly invited us to join his party for a few minutes. Mrs Woolton knows where we are. We shall be returning directly.”
“Oh, yes,” said Selina, apparently feeling the need to justify their actions. “We wanted to come and pay our respects to Lady Winters and Miss Winters. They have been through quite an ordeal.”
“Yes, I daresay,” said Edward, looking anything but mollified at this explanation. “However, I did not know you were acquainted with Mr Lakesby.”
“Really?” said Lakesby in a pleasant manner. “Then you have not heard how your sister was kind enough to come to the aid of my aunt and cousin after they were robbed by a highwayman.”
“I am aware.” Edward’s tone was curt. “However, I did not know your acquaintanceship was of such duration as for my sister to have a long-standing engagement for your theatre party.”
Selina looked towards Georgiana in puzzlement. Georgiana paid no heed.
“Really, Edward, is this necessary?” said Georgiana with a meaningful glance towards Lady Winters.
“Miss Grey, do you mean to come with us?” said Louisa, clasping her hands together joyfully. “Oh, I’m so pleased.”
The sight of her brother’s grim expression immediately decided Georgiana. She was tired of Edward’s attempts to manipulate the strings of her life, a mission in which Selina ably supported him.
“Yes, Louisa, I should be very pleased to come. And you must call me Georgiana.”
“Yes, I shall, thank you. I’m so glad you’re coming to the theatre with us. Max was not sure you would.”
“Oh?” Georgiana gave Lakesby a curious look and was rewarded with an annoyingly bland smile.
“Will your cousin be joining us?” Lakesby asked, with a polite smile directed towards Miss Knatchbull.
Georgiana replied before Selina could speak. “My cousin has already promised herself to my brother and sister-in-law for the evening. Now, Selina, I have no wish for you to upset your arrangements,” Georgiana continued smoothly, “and since I shall be with Lady Winters, you need not make yourself uneasy about having to accompany me.”
Selina looked from sister to brother, seeming unable to speak, her expression beyond bafflement. Georgiana gave Edward a sweet smile.
“So you see, Edward, there is no occasion to worry,” Georgiana said.
Edward made no attempt to reply and quickly found his attention claimed by Lakesby.
“Incidentally, my congratulations, Grey,” said Lakesby.
“What? Yes. That is – I’m very much obliged...” Edward faltered.
Both Georgiana and Selina looked at Edward with puzzled eyes. Lakesby addressed his aunt.
“Mr Grey has been appointed to the magistrates’ bench, to the seat vacated by Sir Robert Foster’s death.”
“Indeed?” said Lady Winters. “Well, I hope you mean to do something about all these highwaymen terrorising the roads.”
“I certainly do, Lady Winters,” said Edward strongly. “I intend to start with the one who killed Sir Robert Foster.”
“There is no proof he was killed by a highwayman,” Lakesby pointed out. “I daresay any number of people may have profited by his death. You did yourself, Grey.”
Miss Knatchbull gasped, beginning to protest such a notion. Georgiana looked from one man to the other. The notion of her staid brother as a killer was too fantastic to believe. Edward’s puce colouring suggested he found it less amusing.
“Hardly a fit matter for levity, Lakesby,” said Edward sternly.
Lakesby cast a meaningful look at Georgiana. She made a point of ignoring it.
“I had not intended it as such,” remarked Lakesby solemnly. “I merely mention how you have benefited by Sir Robert’s death.”
“If, sir, you are accusing me of having something to do with his murder...”
“I accuse you of nothing,” responded Lakesby in innocent accents.
“Why, the idea is preposterous!” Miss Knatchbull interrupted.
“I was at Brooks’s with a party of friends on the night Sir Robert died.”
“Odd,” said Lakesby. “I looked in at Brooks’s myself that evening. I don’t recall seeing you.”
“Nevertheless, I was there.”
“Maxwell, is all this necessary?” said Lady Winters in acerbic accents.
“I should say not, Lady Winters,” said Edward with offended dignity. “Georgiana, Selina, I will escort you both back to Mrs Woolton. Good evening, Lady Winters, Miss Winters, Lakesby.”
Too stunned to object, Georgiana rose and made her farewells.
“Georgiana, I was never more shocked,” said Edward, leading his sister back to her original party. “Do you know anything about that man?”
“He seemed very kind and civil,” said Selina in a small, apologetic voice.
One thought stood out in Georgiana’s mind. Had her brother been lying to her? It seemed impossible to believe, but oddly enough, Georgiana found she did.
6
Georgiana’s argument with Edward was more heated than the usual squabbles born of his attempts to dictate her life. She had never seen her punctilious brother in such a passion. Even now, days later, the memory of his white-lipped face remained vivid before her. A lecture on the ill-advisedness of her accepting Lakesby’s invitation had swiftly become an excruciating condemnation of her entire lifestyle. Georgiana had long ago learned to shrug off Edward’s stern head-shakings, yet his manner on this occasion had been infected with a maliciousness which startled her, breaking the control she held over her own temper. They parted on very ill terms, and Georgiana thought it likely she and her brother would keep to their separate paths for the foreseeable future.
Dressing for Lakesby’s theatre party, Georgiana was able to reflect on the disagreement with a coolness only possible after the passage of time. Her mind went to the meeting between Edward and Lakesby. She had not expected them to be friends, but Edward’s heated animosity had clearly sprung from something more t
han her refusal of his dinner invitation. Was there some old quarrel between the two men? Her brother had refused to discuss it and Lakesby remained maddeningly calm. His casual remark about Brooks’s burned in Georgiana’s brain. She had no reason to assume Lakesby was telling the truth, but something told her to believe him. Yet why would Edward lie? One could almost suppose him to be harbouring some guilty secret. Such a preposterous notion nearly made Georgiana laugh out loud. Nevertheless, she was uneasy. If Edward was not at Brooks’s on the night of Sir Robert’s murder, where had he been?
Georgiana’s eyes were fixed on her reflection as Emily dressed her hair. As the maid stood back to cast a critical eye over the effect, Georgiana smiled and nodded. Emily picked up the haresfoot and lightly dusted her mistress’s cheeks. As this task was finished, Georgiana heard Miss Knatchbull’s voice calling from the landing. Georgiana smiled at Emily and rose, answering Selina as she opened the door of the bedchamber. Her cousin stood at the top of the stairs, arms folded across the brown and cream dress she had chosen for the dinner party with Edward and his wife. Georgiana thought she looked well in it and said as much. This drew a smile from Selina, briefly relieving what Georgiana regarded as the unfortunate effect of a disapproving frown.
“You mean to go ahead with this theatre expedition, then?” Selina asked, clearly hopeful of convincing Georgiana of her error of judgement.
“Yes, why not?” said Georgiana.
“When Edward and Amanda have invited you to dinner?” Selina clearly thought no further explanation necessary.
Georgiana smiled. “I think it’s wise if Edward and I don’t meet for a while. Poor Selina, I should not wish to subject you to a repetition of the other evening.”
Selina blanched. Georgiana could sense her indecision, torn between her duty to persuade Georgiana to dine with her brother and her fear of a quarrel between them. Georgiana took advantage.
“You had best be off, Selina. You won’t wish to keep the horses standing. Have a pleasant evening.”
Georgiana’s quick return to her room left no opportunity for further discussion. To her surprise, she was looking forward to the theatre party. She ascribed this to curiosity, having little hope of obtaining much useful information about Sir Robert. It was clear Lady Winters had no wish to discuss the matter if it did not involve the condemnation of highwaymen in general and the Crimson Cavalier in particular. Louisa was a more fruitful source, but with her cousin’s restraining presence and her mama’s suffocating one, Georgiana expected little this evening.
Georgiana paused a moment before departing to allow Emily to smooth out the skirt of her gown.
“Thank you, Emily. Would you fetch my cloak, please?”
The rich blue of the hooded cloak which Emily placed about her mistress’s white shoulders made a striking contrast to the pale blue of her dress. As it was tied securely under Georgiana’s chin, Emily nodded, satisfied.
“Would like me to wait up for you, miss?”
Georgiana considered. She hated keeping her servants up late but it was conceivable she might want to confer with Emily, especially if she did manage to learn anything worthwhile. Her maid’s own attempts at investigation had so far proved fruitless. From what Georgiana could gather, Sir Robert’s coachman had spent his evening with Emily bemoaning his late master’s nip-farthing ways and trying to indulge an unpleasantly amorous streak which accorded with his consumption of alcohol. Efforts to question him had been met with a lack of serious attention which, Emily had told Georgiana, made it clear he thought she only cut her eye-teeth yesterday. The evening had finally ended with Emily giving him a resounding slap and telling him to take himself off.
Whatever forthright opinions Emily might voice, there was no question about her support. Georgiana gave her maid a smile. “Yes, please, Emily, if you wouldn’t mind. However, I’d be very grateful if you could discourage my cousin from doing so.”
Emily looked doubtful. “I’ll do what I can, miss.”
Mr Lakesby’s carriage arrived promptly, and Lakesby stood waiting in the hall as Georgiana descended the stairs. Noticing his eyes resting appreciatively on her, she could not help but be aware of the perfection of his own attire. His impeccably tailored coat of superfine cloth and satin knee-breeches could not fail to draw approval from the most exacting valet, while his immaculately tied cravat demonstrated just the right balance between taste and fashion. Georgiana found herself unconsciously comparing him with Lord Bartholomew Parker.
Handing Georgiana into the chaise, Lakesby nodded to the driver as he stepped in behind her. Lady Winters and her daughter were already ensconced, each responding to Georgiana’s cheerful good evening in more restrained accents. Georgiana suspected Lady Winters did not welcome her presence and had no doubt any sign of pleasure from Louisa would incur her parent’s deep disapproval. Georgiana turned towards Lakesby. Seated opposite her, he seemed conscious of her plight and gave her a wry grin. Despite herself, Georgiana’s green eyes danced as they met his blue ones.
“Charming weather for the time of year, don’t you think, Miss Grey?” he remarked conversationally.
“Yes, indeed,” Georgiana responded, struggling with a bubble of laughter. Fortunately for the preservation of her gravity, the journey to the theatre was short. Georgiana resolutely folded her hands in her lap and cast her eyes down.
“How is your hand, Miss Grey?” inquired Lakesby in a more serious vein.
“Much better, Mr Lakesby, thank you.”
“I’m pleased to hear it.”
The evening was fine, if cool, and the bright light cast by the moon accentuated the brilliance of the lamps outside the Theatre Royal in Covent Garden. Descending from the chaise, Lady Winters espied an acquaintance and imperiously beckoned her daughter to her side. Left alone to walk with Lakesby, Georgiana accepted the arm he offered. As they began to ascend the steps, Georgiana halted in surprise at the sight of Sir Brandon Foster some distance away from them.
“Miss Grey, is anything wrong?” inquired her companion.
“No. Nothing at all.” She dragged her eyes away from Sir Brandon and turned to face Lakesby, smiling apologetically. “I beg your pardon, Mr Lakesby.” She knew his eyes had followed the direction of hers and was not surprised to see his penetrating gaze studying her face.
“You expected Sir Brandon to be in mourning for his father, perhaps?”
“Well, naturally...,” she averred.
Lakesby shook his head. “Brandon Foster is an unnatural son, though considering his parentage, it is perhaps to be expected. He was begat by a most unnatural father.”
“Even so, sir...”
Lakesby grinned. “I see you make no attempt to disagree with me, Miss Grey. Excellent. I should be most disappointed if you pretended to be one of those missish females who affects to know little about the ways of the world.”
Georgiana regarded him steadily, trying to determine whether a pithy retort was in order. She decided to opt for frankness instead.
“Mr Lakesby, are you deliberately trying to shock me?”
“Shock you? No, indeed,” he responded. “Because I imagine you are not as naive as my foolish cousin?”
“You should not speak that way about Louisa,” Georgiana said reprovingly. “She has a good nature.”
“Most certainly she has,” said Lakesby. “But her intellect, Miss Grey! Even you must allow it is hardly what one could call superior.”
While Georgiana could not argue with Lakesby’s words, she was conscious of the impropriety of his having said it. She withdrew her hand from his arm and spoke in cooler accents.
“A superior intellect is not a necessity, Mr Lakesby. I shouldn’t think it will harm her prospects.”
“Probably not,” he replied.
They had by this time arrived in the foyer where they were joined by Lady Winters and Louisa. As they moved towards their box, Georgiana noticed Sir Brandon flirting with a rather giggly girl who had been enticed away from her mo
ther.
“Mr Foster – I beg your pardon, Sir Brandon. I was so sorry to hear about your father’s death.” The sound of her own voice surprised her as much as it did her interlocutor.
“Were you?” responded the young man carelessly. “You must be the only one.”
Georgiana’s eyes widened. She tried not to show her surprise too openly.
“I am sure you cannot mean that,” she said with an attempt at lightness. “Of course, it has been a shock and you must be feeling rather stunned.”
Brandon Foster gave a mirthless laugh. “Must I? The old man was a tartar. Everyone knew that. I don’t suppose there’s one person who’ll miss him.”
“Sir Brandon,” said Georgiana, genuinely shocked. “You are overwrought.”
Brandon Foster shrugged. “Well, I can’t pretend I’m sorry he’s gone. We’ve barely spoken for years. The title and the ramshackle country house are all I inherit. He’d cut off my allowance and left his money and town house elsewhere. Some distant relative.”
This was news. It was no secret that Sir Robert and his son did not enjoy an amicable relationship, but Georgiana had not realised the severity of the break. Brandon Foster was known to have a difficult streak; he frequented gaming hells, drinking deep and playing deeper, and his creditors were legion. It was common knowledge that his father had refused to advance him further sums, yet his credit still seemed to be good. Georgiana, among others, was surprised he had not been consigned to a debtors’ prison.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she said sympathetically. “Things must be difficult for you.”
“I’ll manage,” he said with an unexpected grin. “I always do.”
“Really? How?” Georgiana hoped her tone was one of innocent inquiry.
Apparently Sir Brandon noticed nothing unusual. His grin grew broader. He tapped the side of his head.
“Just needs a bit of thought,” he said.
Georgiana’s eyes widened. Brandon Foster had never impressed her as a man who devoted much time to thought, yet he spoke with a confidence, almost a swagger. Georgiana could almost believe he had planned on his father’s death. But the estrangement seemed hardly enough to trigger a murder, nor his inheritance worth risking the gallows.
The Crimson Cavaliers Page 8