‘Sound advice,’ Harry said and drifted away towards a table of gentlemen engaged in a game of Commerce.
Sebastian accepted a glass from a passing footman and stood back in the shadows, watching Freddy. He wondered if he was imagining it, but it seemed to him that Freddy played with an air of desperation, as if he needed to win above everything. He made a mental note to enquire of Bragge how far the investigation into Freddy’s past had advanced.
***
In the coach returning to Brantstone, Sebastian tried to ignore Fanny’s incessant babble about the evening. He lapsed into a reverie as he recalled the interesting conversation with Lady Kendall and tried to reconcile Anthony’s deadly secret with the public man.
‘…. And then, of course, your friend, Colonel Dempster…’ Fanny said, nudging Sebastian.
At the mention of his friend’s name, Sebastian turned to look at her.
‘What about him?’
‘He is quite charming, cousin Sebastian. Didn’t you notice how he escorted me into supper and ensured I had everything I needed?’
‘This Dempster, does he have expectations, cousin?’ Freddy asked from his shadowed corner of the coach.
‘Expectations?’ Sebastian enquired. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Oh, Harry’s father is very wealthy,’ Connie said, ingenuously. Sebastian glared at her in the dark. She had been giggling with Fanny, evidence she may have imbibed one glass of wine too many.
‘Dempster is a full colonel on half pay. His father is hale and hearty and he has no expectations of improving his lot for some time,’ Sebastian retorted in a clipped tone.
‘Pity,’ Freddy said. ‘However, I am sure such a handsome and charming fellow will do well.’
‘And what about you, Freddy. Did you do well at the tables tonight?’ Sebastian enquired.
Freddy’s teeth gleamed in the darkness as he smiled. ‘Tolerably well.’
‘You seem to be having quite a bit of luck when I saw you,’ Matt interposed in innocence of Sebastian’s knowledge of Freddy and Fanny’s connivance at cheating.
‘I am known to be lucky. There have been times when my skill with cards is all that has kept poor Fan and I from debtor’s prison,’ Freddy said with a heavy, theatrical sigh.
‘Just a week ‘til our own ball,’ Fanny chirped, diverting the subject with surprising skill.
The high stock around Sebastian’s neck tightened. He slumped down in his seat with his arms crossed.
‘Oh!’ Connie exclaimed, her hand flying to her neck. ‘Oh, Sebastian, your necklace!’
‘What about it?’
He heard the edge of tears in his sister’s voice as she said, ‘It’s no longer around my neck. The catch must have broken.’
After a deal of fussing and checking of clothing and reticules, which ended with Connie in floods of tears, Connie concluded that it must have fallen off while she was dancing.
‘Oh, Bas,’ Connie wailed, falling into his arms. ‘The first pretty thing I have ever owned and I lost it.’
‘I have no doubt one of Lady Kendall’s staff will find it,’ Sebastian said.
He patted her ineffectually on the back and smiled into the dark. His little sister really had drunk too much but the lost necklace gave him a good opportunity to return to Fairchild Hall the next day. He had some questions for Lady Kendall about the night of Anthony’s death.
***
Sebastian dismounted from Pharaoh and handed the reins over to the stableboy who ran out to meet him. Lady Kendall’s footman met him at the front steps and showed him into a small parlour that had not been open the previous evening. Lady Kendall reclined on a day bed in a loose, frothy robe of muslin and green ribbons. A flush of embarrassment rose to his face. Even he knew a lady should never receive a man in such a state of ‘deshabille’.
‘My pardon, Lady Kendall,’ he said. ‘I could have sent one of my footmen on this mission.’
‘But you came yourself. How sweet,’ Lady Kendall waved at a chair and sent the footman away with an order for tea.
‘Is this what you are seeking?’ She lifted the pearl necklace from a little box by her day bed.
‘Yes it is. Thank you.’
Lady Kendall let the necklace play through her fingers. ‘A pretty thing, but the clasp, alas, is broken.’
She passed it to Sebastian, who wrapped it in a handkerchief and stowed it in his pocket as the footman returned with a tea tray. Lady Kendall sent him away and poured for them both.
She lay back, placing a hand languorously across her brow. ‘I fear I am getting too old for parties.’
The cup rattled in Sebastian’s saucer as he set the dainty thing down on the table. ‘Forgive me, Lady Kendall, but something in our conversation sparked curiosity in me. I would like to ask you some more about the night Anthony died.’
‘Of course. What would you like to know?’
‘What was the occasion?’
She shook her head. ‘No occasion. He turned up, as he was wont to do, unannounced. He took supper with us, we played cards for a little while, and then he left.’
‘Alone?’
‘Yes.’
Something she had just said struck Sebastian. ‘Us? Did you have another guest that night?’
‘Why yes. Harry had just come up from London on a flying visit.’
Sebastian frowned. Harry hadn’t mentioned that he had seen Anthony on the night he died.
‘What sort of mood was Anthony in?’
She made a dismissive gesture with her hand. ‘He was in no particular mood. It was just a pleasant social evening as I’m sure Harry will confirm. Why are you asking? Do you think he may have taken his own life?’
Sebastian looked at her. ‘No. I just want to be clear in my own mind that what happened was an accident.’
‘Is there any suspicion that it wasn’t?’
Sebastian shook his head. ‘Did you see him leave?’
She shook her head. ‘He left before midnight and I presume the rest you know. And before you ask, yes, he had consumed a deal of wine, but not enough to make him a danger.’
Sebastian nodded and rose to his feet. ‘Can I see your stables?’
Lady Kendall laughed. ‘Most men of my acquaintance would enquire about another room in my house.’
Sebastian stared at her blankly. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. ‘Lord Somerton, you are a delight. Dear Isabel would be a fool to let you pass her by.’
‘Isabel?’
Lady Kendall rose from her daybed and Sebastian stood. She crossed over to him and laid a hand on his chest. ‘Lord Somerton, I pride myself on being a judge of human nature. Now let us go and inspect my stables.’
The stables of Fairchild Hall stood a little way from the house and were a fraction of the size of those at Brantstone. Lady Kendall summoned the stable lad who had taken Pharaoh, and Sebastian asked if he remembered the night the late Lord Somerton had visited.
‘Aye,’ the boy said slowly. ‘Was only me here. I were just seeing to the coach horses when he arrived.’
Sebastian indicated Pharaoh. ‘On that horse?’
The boy nodded. ‘He’s a fine ‘orse that one. His lordship gave orders for him to be left saddled. Said he wouldn’t be long.’
‘Did anyone else come to the stable that evening?’
‘Not that I saw. I finished with the coach ‘orses and spent the evening polishing the tack. I musta gone to sleep cos I didn’t hear ‘im leave.’ He pointed at a room at the end of the stables.
‘So anyone could have entered the stable without you seeing?’
The boy nodded, shooting a quick glance at his mistress.
A clatter of hooves on the cobbles announced the arrival of Harry Dempster. He flung himself easily from the back of his horse, handing the reins to the boy.
‘Good morning, Somerton,’ he said as he approached them.
‘What brings you out to the stables? Are you coming or going?’
Sebastia
n patted his pocket. ‘Just collecting some lost property.’
‘Lord Somerton was asking me about the night poor Anthony died,’ Lady Kendall said.
Sebastian looked at his friend. ‘You didn’t mention you were here.’
Harry blinked. ‘Was I? Oh god, yes. That was the night I called in on my way to Yorkshire. I arrived late and left early. Didn’t hear about Somerton’s death for days. We played a couple of rounds of Loo if I remember, Georgie?’
‘I was telling Lord Somerton that he seemed quite his normal self.’
‘Took a few coins off me,’ Harry agreed.
The stableboy came forward leading Pharaoh and Sebastian swung into the saddle. He looked down at Harry and his sister.
‘Why would Lord Somerton have jumped the hedge at Lovett’s Bridge?’ he asked.
Lady Kendall shrugged. ‘It was his customary route home. If you cut across the fields behind the farm, it takes a good fifteen minutes off the journey back to Brantstone Hall. He took that route every time.’
‘Did everyone know that?’
Lady Kendall shrugged. ‘I assume so. It is common local knowledge.’
She raised her hand in farewell as Sebastian swung himself into the saddle. He acknowledged her gesture and kicked Pharoah into a canter, only slowing when he reached Lovett’s Bridge. Here he paused, considering the shortcut to Brantstone. The horse seemed to sense his discomfort or perhaps, in its own way, it recalled the night Anthony had died. It shifted beneath him, its ears laying flat. Sebastian patted the glossy, black neck.
‘It’s all right old chap, we’ll take the long way, but I think we’ll pay another visit on our way.’
***
‘Am I disturbing you?’
Isabel looked up from polishing the table and her eyes widened. Sebastian stood in the doorway to the dower house, attired in moleskin breeches and a cutaway coat of blue wool. He carried a riding crop and gloves and his hair looked windswept.
She hastily smoothed down her skirts and tried to look like a dowager Viscountess, not the hired help. She wore her oldest gown of dark blue gingham with a large apron tied over it. She had tied her hair up in a scarf and she was sure there was a smudge of dirt on her cheek.
‘No, not at all. Have you been out riding?’ she enquired.
He nodded. ‘I rode over to Fairchild Hall to collect Connie’s necklace.’
‘You could have sent one of the boys,’ Isabel said.
‘I could have done,’ he agreed, ‘but I wanted to go myself.’
The breath left her body as if she had been hit and she looked down at the duster she held in her hand. Lady Kendall again. Always Lady Kendall.
‘Fortunately, the missing necklace has been found,’ Sebastian added.
‘Connie will be pleased. She seemed very upset this morning at breakfast. What a shame that it spoiled her evening.’
Sebastian nodded and a slow smile spread across his face. ‘She did very well for her first foray into polite society. I was very proud of her.’
‘I have every confidence in Connie. What brings you here?’ Isabel enquired.
‘You mentioned at breakfast you planned to spend the day at the dower house so I thought I should come and see if there is anything I can do for you.’
She found herself patting her hair and was alarmed to find a spider web adhering to her fingers. ‘No, nothing. I just need to clean a few things up, rearrange the furniture…’ She broke off and looked around at the shabby, outmoded furniture, covertly wiping the spider web on her apron.
Sebastian circled the room. ‘The proportions are lovely,’ he said, more to himself than to her.
‘It was the original house, built in the reign of Queen Anne, I believe. Your great grandfather built the big house sixty years ago to replace it.’ She looked up at the ceiling painted with a mural of Greek Gods, noticing, with annoyance, that here and there the paint had flecked off. ‘It’s old and a little shabby, but I like it.’
He turned around to look at her. ‘Is there anything you want from the big house?’
‘A few pieces of furniture, all of which I brought with me on my marriage. That’s all.’
‘Nothing of sentimental value?’
She shook her head. ‘No. The contents of the big house are for show, not sentiment. Let me show you the garden.’
She threw open the large double doors that opened onto a terrace. Sunlight streamed in and, still holding the doors, she lifted her face up to the sun.
‘What a glorious day,’ she exclaimed.
As they stepped out on to the terrace, Sebastian said, ‘This is charming. Old fashioned, but perfectly suited to the house. I wouldn’t change a thing.’
She found herself smiling. ‘Really?’
‘Really… Oh, well, maybe I would strengthen that parterre and perhaps a row of pencil pines against that boundary.’
‘What do you know about gardens?’ she teased as they strolled the garden beds, at which a small team of the Brantstone gardeners had already begun the task of tidying the beds.
He shrugged. ‘I understand what works. The gardens of the big house need to be redesigned. They don’t make the most of the view down to the lake.’
‘The lake?’
She looked up at his profile. This man seemed riddled with contradictions; a soldier with the soul of an artist.
He looked sideways at her. ‘Can you spare a few minutes? I’d like to show you what I mean.’
She glanced back at the house, thinking of all the things she had planned to do that day and decided a stroll with Sebastian on a beautiful day was far more to be preferred. Fetching her bonnet and shawl, she found Sebastian waiting for her on the front steps.
They set off in the direction of the lake. He prowled beside her, reminding her of a cat moving easily on long, elegant legs, with only the barest hint of an uneven gait. She cast a furtive look sideways, talking in his profile with the strong nose and sensitive, well-shaped mouth. He had the height and the figure to carry off the high, immaculate stock and cut away jacket. Beneath the close-fitting moleskin breeches she could see the strong muscles of his legs. She thought of the equally strong, well-muscled chest she had seen and, for a moment, her imagination took her into the bedchamber.
She shook her head, banishing the wicked thought. She had no right to think such thoughts. Far better to keep their friendship at a distance.
As they walked, he outlined his thoughts about the garden, adding, with a certain wistfulness in his voice, when the money allowed.
At the edge of the lake they stopped to admire the vista across to a grove of trees where the dome of a small summerhouse peeked through the surrounding foliage. Isabel sat down on the grass and drew her knees up. Sebastian lowered himself down beside her.
She leaned her chin on her knees. ‘I am terrified of water. I saw a child drowned in Jamaica and in my nightmares I always imagined the sea as some sort of ravenous beast, pulling innocent children to their death.’
‘Even as an adult?’
She nodded. ‘I look at this beautiful lake and imagine it is full of weeds and dead things.’ She shivered, wrapping her arms around herself. ‘I’ve never been able to think about the lake the same way since Amy Thompson’s death. It’s as if her ghost haunts it.’
Sebastian sprawled full length, propped up on his left elbow. He looked up at her. ‘She drowned herself?’
Isabel nodded. ‘So they say. I never understood it…’ She frowned. The time had come for honesty. ‘Sebastian, may I confide in you?’
‘Of course.’
‘Anthony came to see me a few days after Amy had been found.’ She pointed to a stand of willow trees. ‘Over there. He was almost manic with distress. He had heard the gossip. They were saying she was with child, his child, and it was his rejection of her that had led to her suicide.’ She looked away. She had never confided in anyone before and to do so would cost her dearly.
‘Go on,’ Sebastian urged.
&n
bsp; ‘He told me things.’ She took a deep breath. ‘About himself. Terrible, shameful things. Things for which he could be hanged…but he could not have Amy’s death on his conscience.’
‘Isabel,’ Sebastian said softly, sitting up. ‘I know all about Anthony.’
She turned to look at him, her eyes wide with shock. ‘How?’
He paused. ‘It doesn’t matter for the moment.’
She looked down and humiliating tears pricked the back of her nose. ‘I had no idea. All the years I had been married to him, I had assumed his lack of interest in me was because…’ She stopped herself from saying any more.
The shame at her own naivety and her anger at Anthony for his duplicity welled up inside her and the hot, shameful tears began to roll unbidden down her cheeks.
She steeled herself, trying desperately to will them away. When Sebastian put his arm around her shoulders and drew her into the curve of his body, she made no protest. It felt good to be held. He pressed a large, clean white kerchief into her hand and she mopped at her face.
‘You don’t have to say any more,’ he whispered.
‘But I do,’ she gulped. ‘That’s why I never understood about Amy. Anthony swore he never touched her and, given what he told me, I believed him.’
Sebastian looked down at her, a small frown creasing his brow. ‘There is no doubt she was with child?’
Isabel nodded. ‘The doctor confirmed it.’ She gave a great shuddering sigh and let her hands fall in her lap. ‘I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.’
‘Because it is something you have kept to yourself for too long, Isabel. There’s no shame in it and, for what it’s worth, I believe Anthony really did care for you.’
She gave him a scathing glance. ‘How would you know?’
‘Georgiana Kendall told me,’ he said.
A band around her chest tightened. ‘Georgiana Kendall…’ she began, trying to find the words to express her feelings but Sebastian laid his hand over hers.
‘They were not lovers, Isabel. She was under no illusions about Anthony’s preferences. She was just part of the picture he painted about himself.’
Isabel looked away, her humiliation complete. Georgiana Kendall had known something of such importance.
Lord Somerton’s Heir Page 19