"There, you see, Benedict," Juliet startled him by saying, "I've had two firm offers of marriage!"
"What?" he said sharply.
"Were you not listening? Cousin Horatio was just telling me the most amusing story. Completely apocryphal, I do believe, but apparently, when the Prince Regent heard about the race, he declared that he would marry me as soon as he is divorced from the Princess of Wales!"
Benedict was not amused. He had no great opinion of the Carlton House set, and he had no desire to see his sister drawn into its incessant absurdities, freaks, and scandals.
"You will be pleased to know, Sir Benedict, that the members of White's have taken action against Swale. No gentleman with a wager on yesterday's race has any intention of collecting. Including Mr. Alexander Devize and my own patron Lord Redfylde," Horatio added.
"There!" said Juliet, pleased. "Even his club is on my side."
After breakfast, she went upstairs to kiss Gary goodbye, and Captain Cary went with her. To her surprise, her brother was awake. With her help, he was able to sit up and drink a little water.
He greeted Horatio fondly but had not the strength to shake hands.
Horatio was plainly shocked at the sight of his cousin. Cary's arm was in a splint, his head was bandaged, and his lean, handsome face was haggard. Deep violet shadows stood under his gray eyes. But his sense of humor had not been quenched. "I like the fungus better and better each time I see it," he told Horatio with a faint smile. "Perhaps I shall take this opportunity to grow whiskers too."
Cary was pleased to learn that Juliet was going to Tanglewood. "I can't bear her clucking over me like a hen! I'll dictate a letter to you every day, Julie," he promised. "Do not bother your head about me. If you were to stay here, you would be bored to sobs."
"I do hate leaving you, Cary, but if I am to be sent away, I had much rather go to my cousins."
"Look after her, Horatio," Cary said. "Indeed, she is not the willful hellion you may think! She was always quite tame before. And, if no other harm comes to me, I expect she will be a good girl all the days of her life. Your father needn't worry she will lead Cynthia astray!"
"No, indeed," Horatio scoffed. "Only I wish she had called upon me to take your place, Cousin. Though I very much doubt I should have contrived to win the race."
"Tell your father I shall visit Tanglewood as soon as I am able," said Cary. "I know the Manor has been sadly neglected. I thank you for bringing it to my attention. Somehow, I never think of it, though it is my mother's birthplace and my grandmamma was kind enough to leave it to me when she died. I can't think why she didn't leave it to you."
"Perhaps it is because I was at sea when she died," Horatio said with just a hint of reproach. "You are very much looked for at Tanglewood and very much missed, Cary."
"Yes," Juliet chimed in. "Whenever I go there, the people talk of nothing else but the absentee landlord. You must do better, Cary."
Cary chuckled softly. "Very well," he said. "I shall! There is one favor I should like to ask of you before you go, Julie. Would you please inform Lady Serena Calverstock of my condition? Perhaps I flatter myself, but I believe her ladyship may be worried about me."
Horatio gallantly agreed to stop at Lord Redfylde's house in Grosvenor Square, where Serena, who was the sister of Lady Redfylde as well as the cousin of Stacy Calverstock, resided.
"You do not much care for the lady," Horatio said as he handed Juliet into the chaise.
"I don't believe she cares a button for my brother," Juliet declared. "She is false to her toes."
"But, my dear cousin," he protested, "they are seen everywhere together! Cary even allows her ladyship to drive his chestnuts."
Juliet flushed angrily. There had been a time when she had been the only female allowed to drive her brother's famous chestnuts, and she could not give way graciously to the beautiful Serena. "You do not know her as I do, Cousin," she told him. "You have been away fighting. You have not seen how coldly she conducted herself to my brother in the months before you returned. It was quite sudden that she began to take notice of him, I assure you, and I don't believe for an instant she is sincere. Before my brother, she was equally enchanted by Mr. Alexander Devize! I believe she enjoys having men dangle after her. Why else would she have had seven Seasons in London but have accepted no offers?"
"Has she had offers?" Horatio inquired, apparently amused.
"Several," Juliet replied. "No one is rich enough or high enough for her, it seems. My poor brother was on the verge of making her an offer, but I convinced him that Tanglewood Manor is not sufficiently grand to tempt her! I persuaded him it would be foolish to ask for her and that it would only cause them both great embarrassment."
"You did, did you?" Horatio's blue eyes twinkled. "What an excellent sister you are. Perhaps," he added with mock seriousness, "you would allow me to deliver your brother's message to the lady-I cannot be in danger for I have neither titles nor estates."
Juliet looked down at her hands. "It had occurred to me, Cousin, that Lady Serena might not be at home to Miss Wayborn today. Would you mind awfully-?"
"I am Miss Wayborn's servant," he replied so gravely that she laughed.
Horatio was not twenty minutes in Lord Redfylde's house. "I think you are right about the lady, Cousin," he reported to Juliet. "She seemed not to care in the least for your brother's injuries nor for your own predicament, my dear Juliet. Her ladyship was quite cold on both subjects."
"Indeed, I am heartily sorry to have been right about her insincerity," said Juliet, biting her lip. "Cary will be hurt, and I expect I am to blame, but at least, he is free of her now."
The peaceful village of Tanglewood Green lay twenty miles north of London in Hertfordshire, and travel was easy along the Great North Road. Juliet, her maid, and Captain Cary arrived at the Vicarage no later than one o'clock to the great surprise of Dr. Cary and his wife, who had expected to see their son the following week and Juliet not at all.
The Vicar's house was a large and stately stone building that at one time had held as many as seven children and their parents, as well as a full contingent of servants. The eldest of the Carys' seven children was Horatio, but the next five children had been named simply and safely George, Tom, Mary, James, and Edward. Then, quite unexpectedly, at the age of forty, Mrs. Cary had given birth to a second girl. Her surprise was so great that she had named the baby Cynthia. Now seventeen and a beauty, Miss Cary was the only child left at home.
When Juliet arrived, Cynthia and her mother were preparing to visit an elderly woman in the parish. They instantly offered to revise their plans, while Juliet suggested that she take Mrs. Cary's place.
"But, my dear, you must be tired from your journey," Mrs. Cary protested weakly. She was a large, comfortable woman who did not care for walking, and it had already occurred to her that, if Juliet went with Cynthia, it would give her time to make arrangements for her unexpected guest. The Carys considered themselves very humble country people, and the arrival of their smart London cousin, who had been presented to Queen Charlotte in the state drawing room of St. James's Palace, was sufficient to frighten Mrs. Cary into taking her very best linens out of the lavender-scented tissue in which they were stored.
Juliet insisted. After the confinement of the carriage, a long, healthy walk was just what she liked. Mrs. Gary's half-hearted objections were easily overcome while Sailor, the family's spaniel, ran up to Juliet and shoved his nose under her hand in a bid for her attention. It was soon decided that Sailor would accompany the girls on their errand.
Alighting from the vehicle, Mademoiselle Huppert gazed up at the Vicarage with an expression of Gallic scorn. If her mistress delighted in scampering about the countryside with dogs and baskets of food, she, Mademoiselle, had better ideas. Approaching Mrs. Cary, she rather coldly asked for the housekeeper.
Juliet, meanwhile, took the basket from Cynthia, and, arm and arm, the pair started down the lane. Like her brother, Cynthia was fair-haired a
nd blueeyed, but while her brother was bronzed from his time at sea, Cynthia was pale, an almost ethereal-looking beauty. Besides being quite the loveliest girl Juliet had ever seen, Cynthia held a place of honor in her cousin's heart, for Cynthia had been kind to Benedict the summer before when he had visited Tanglewood with his half-sister for the first time. Hampered by his missing limb and scarred face, Benedict was usually painfully awkward around the fair sex, and Juliet would always be grateful to Cynthia for making him feel so comfortable on that occasion. Indeed, she was determined to make a match between the pair.
She lost no time in acquainting Cynthia with her own disgrace, and her cousin, whose dull life in the country had ill-prepared her for tales of midnight muggings and curricle races, listened in rapt fascination, horrified to learn that Cary had been attacked. "But, surely, it was an accident?" she said nervously.
"Accident! "Juliet's color rose, and her eyes snapped dangerously. "He was attacked from behind and beaten mercilessly."
"Oh," said Cynthia, anxious to calm her fiery cousin. "I did not mean an accident, of course. But a mistake. Could it have been a mistake?"
"A mistake?" Juliet scoffed. "They knew exactly what they were about. They were sent to do their work. Lord Swale paid them to make sure Cary could not drive his chestnuts in the race."
"Lord Swale!" Cynthia shivered, picturing a tall, dark, foreign-looking nobleman with a streak of silver in his hair and perhaps, a monocle, if not an eyepatch. "Even his name is sinister."
"I expect if we were to look him up in the Peerage, we would find that he is descended of a demon, like the Plantagenets," said Juliet.
"Shall we look him up then?" suggested Cynthia.
Juliet shrugged but expressed a slight curiosity in knowing who the mother of the monster might be. "A brewer's daughter, I should think," she said nastily. "The Duke is so refined."
"You said in your letter he wore more powder and paint than Her Majesty," Cynthia objected.
"Well, yes, dear," replied Juliet. "But he is quite old, you know. It must have been the fashion of his youth. At least his Grace does not try to look like a young man. That would be absurd!"
They reached the cottage of the invalid and completed their errand. Cynthia did not forget about the Peerage, and when they returned home, she smuggled it out of her father's study and up to Juliet's room.
"The family seat is at Auckland," Juliet said helpfully. "Auckland Palace. From all his Grace told me, it is very grand. There is an Amber drawing room and a room set aside for his Grace's porcelain collection. The Auckland Collection must make your father's china cabinets look ridiculous."
"Is he handsome?" asked Cynthia, searching the pages of the thick volume.
"His Grace?"Juliet shrugged. "I expect he was so in his youth. His manners are very pleasing. He was kind, but without that insufferable air of condescension which so many gentlemen of rank assume when they are meeting little nobodies like Miss Wayborn."
Cynthia glanced up, her eyes round with fear. "If Miss Wayborn is nobody, I expect I shall be nothingif I go to London next Season! I wish Horatio would not think of putting up so much money on my account. I am certain to fail. Besides-"
"Are you to go to London next Season?" cried Juliet. With a pang, she realized that she had very likely forfeited her own chances for another London Season, but she suppressed her feelings. "Oh, Cynthia, that is famous! It will bring Benedict up to scratch, I daresay," she added with a laugh. "He will not like to see you dancing with the handsome young gentlemen of Almack's!"
Two bright spots of red appeared in Cynthia's cheeks. "Almack's! Sir Benedict! Pray, don't be so absurd." She bent her fair head over the book and quickly changed the subject. "When I asked if he were handsome, I really meant Lord Swale, you know."
Juliet snorted. "He has horrid red hair and a snub nose," she said scornfully. "You would not believe his sideburns-they actually appear to be burning. He looked rather like a stableboy, I thought. A stableboy with nettlerash," she added contemptuously, recalling Swale's blotchy face as he jumped from his curricle, cursing furiously at her. "A big, hulking brute with no refinement," she concluded.
Cynthia frowned. She had never been to London, and she thought it must be filled with nothing but the most delightful ladies and gentlemen. She knew perfectly well what a marquess should look like. Even the most sinister marquess should be tall, elegant, and darkly handsome. They should not resemble stableboys with nettlerash. "I expect," she said doubtfully, "his friends call him Carrots."
A scaly monster like Swale has no friends, "Juliet declared, conveniently forgetting Mr. Alexander Devize. "He has henchmen, that is all. I daresay, when his back is turned, they must call him Ginger, for not only does he have the most appalling red hair, but he must also have the most beastly temper that can be imagined. Cynthia, when he found he had lost the race to me, he could do nothing more than accuse me of cheating and threaten to horsewhip me!"
Cynthia gasped. "H-horsewhip you!" she cried in terror. "But Juliet-!"
"He thought I was Cary, you see." She paused and frowned suddenly. "Though how he should have thought I was Cary I shall never know!"
Cynthia was puzzled. "You said you wore his coat and his hat and his spectacles."
"I mean," said Juliet patiently, "his mercenaries must have reported their success in eliminating my brother from the competition. Swale ought to have been quite surprised to see me! Instead, he was grinning at me. He even wished me luck. Never mind," she said quickly, burying the tiny seed of doubt in righteous indignation. "I expect he covered his amazement with that idiotic grin. Have you found Auckland yet?"
Cynthia handed her the book silently, too overwhelmed by the imposing list of titles, patents, and lands to speak.
"Why, his name is nothing more than Geoffrey Ambler!" cried Juliet indignantly. "Look! One son, Ge offrey, Marquess of Swale, and one d. Maria. The slimy snake has a sister. Since I did not hear of her this Season, we can assume her ladyship has married since this printing."
"Why, that sounds almost human," Cynthia remarked. "There is something stalwart about a Geoffrey, don't you think, Julie? And a Geoffrey with a sister can not be all bad, surely. She probably calls him Geoff or Geoffie."
"It is the name of a soulless swine," Juliet declared. "I expect Geoffrey Ambler, swine, has fled to Auckland. I expect London is no longer pleasant for him. I expect I shall never see him again."
"But Juliet!" Cynthia cried. "You do not wish to, surely. "
"No, indeed," said Juliet. "No one who has ever seen him ever wishes to see him again. But if I ever do, I shan't call him Geoffie, I promise you. I shall call him Ginger. "
Geoffrey, Lord Swale, was not greatly surprised to find a summons to Auckland House awaiting him at his rooms in Pall Mall when he returned to them after the race. The Wayborn Excrescence had done her damage with amazing speed. She had sown her miserable lies, broadcast them, like so much demon seed, and all of London was convinced of his guilt. Doubtless, his concerned parent wanted to console his beloved son. The following day he found Everard Ambler, the sixth Duke of Auckland, in his book room at the back of the London mansion that stood in Berkeley Square.
"Geoffrey, you mutt!" The Duke greeted him without any trace of paternal affection. The resemblance between father and son was not very pronounced. His Grace was one of the pale, slender aristocrats flawlessly turned out by his valet in wig and maquillage, while his son's burly physique, pugnacious face, and ruddy complexion were such that no valet or tailor could render them elegant. His clothes always looked rumpled; his hair was wild. His square chin regularly bore cuts from a clumsy razor, and his boots always looked as though they'd been left out in the rain.
"I take it, sir, you have dismissed your valet at last?"
Swale scowled, further distinguishing himself from the family portraits in the picture gallery at Auckland House. Stern looks, yes, but never that menacing glare a barman gives the bosky at last call. "Why should I dismiss my valet
, sir?" he said belligerently. "Bowditch is as good as any other."
"Ha!" said his parent. "I don't say I want a dandy for a son, but you might at least be neat in your person. I also was cursed with red hair-"
"Were you, by God?" Swale exclaimed in astonishment.
The Duke smiled smugly. "Didn't know that, did you, sir? That is because I have always been properly ashamed of my head. I always cut as much of it off as possible and put the rest under a wig so as not to offend anyone. Good God! Look at you. It nearly touches your shoulders."
"I am," said Swale expansively, "what I am."
"I have always been told," his father said coldly, "first by your mother and then by your sister, that there are hidden depths to your character and that one day I shall be proud to call you my son! That day has not yet arrived. I have heard things, things which put me to the blush."
Swale's scowl deepened. It was only the Fifth Commandment that held his tongue in check.
"You have nothing to say to me, sirrah?"
"Sirrah!" cried Swale, unable to contain himself any longer. "You sirrah me? My own father! You don't mean to say you believe all this nonsense?"
The Duke raised one of the two slender brows painted on that morning by the steady hand of his valet. "I am told by creditable sources that you were involved in a curricle race yesterday morning?"
"Yes, obviously, I was," said Swale sullenly. "The whole world knows it."
The Duke brought his fingertips together. "And who was your opponent?"
"I had rather not say," Swale replied with a touch of hauteur.
"Did you or did you not compete against a female?" his father demanded. "A female called Miss Juliet Wayborn?"
"I hardly call that a female," said Swale, rather surprised that the creature in question possessed a Christian name. "More of a fiend in human shape."
"Is it true, sirrah, that you have been beaten by a mere female?"
"Dammed unnatural female if you ask me," Swale muttered, the nettlerash returning to his face. "A damned, dirty trick is what I call it! What does Wayborn mean, sending his sister out in his clothes?"
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