As difficult as unmasking the blackmailer might be, she thought the last part of her plan might prove to be the hardest. She would have to overcome her feelings for Cranford. If he was to marry Vivian, he would never be gone from her life, and the pain of loss in her heart would be renewed every time she saw him if she did not succeed in exorcising it. But at least failure here would not jeopardize all. It would only condemn her to years of self-torture for her sister’s sake.
Not surprisingly, Venetia’s rest was troubled when sleep did finally overtake her.
Chapter Fourteen
“There are two things that any blackmailer most specifically must have,” Gilbey commented to his companions the following morning as the St. Aldwyns’ landau crested a hill overlooking Rivington. Venetia, Vivian, and Nicholas sat with him in the carriage, en route to the nearby estate village of Colby Compton. On the floor at their feet were several packets of food, medicine, and clothing to be delivered to poor families in the village.
“I think you had both of these very much in mind when you suspected me, Lady Venetia. After considering the situation. I have come to understand why you thought as you did.”
“You suspected Lord Cranford?” Nicholas cast an angry glare at his sister. “He is my best friend!” Turning to Gilbey, he added in accusatory tones, “You did not tell me about that part.”
“I could not tell you about every detail,” Gilbey said with a smile, remembering Venetia’s warm response to his kiss. “Let us not digress. The two things are: motive and knowledge of a secret.”
“Netia! What possible motive did you think Cranford could have had for blackmailing you into marriage?”
“You force me to be rude, Nicholas. You told me yourself that his uncle had swindled him and that he had been struggling to restore his estates. I am perfectly aware that Vivian’s and my dowries are sweet enough by themselves to attract suitors like bees. Or maybe wolves. It seemed rather clear that Lord Cranford was not numbered among the eligible, so I thought that gave him motive enough.”
“And you thought because of his friendship with me, I might have betrayed the family secret?” Nicholas was rigid with indignation. “I am truly insulted!”
“Will you two stop? We must cooperate if we are to have success.” Vivian’s attempt to intercede was ignored.
“Lord Cranford’s behavior seemed to support my suspicions, Nicholas. No one was less interested in courting us than he, and he seemed to be going to great extremes to avoid attracting any attention. For instance, his deliberate attempt to lose the archery competition.” Venetia’s chin was up and one eyebrow was arched quite impossibly high, even for a St. Aldwyn. Her tone was a mixture of defensiveness and challenge.
“How did you know about that? I am surprised you have not uncovered the blackmailer yourself if that is an example of your investigative skills.”
Venetia sighed. “It took no skill at all—I overheard you saying that he was a Cambridge champion.”
She must have heard me ask Nicholas to change the prize, too, thought Gilbey uncomfortably. Suddenly he felt rather loath to explain himself. “Could we please apply ourselves to the problem at hand?” he asked, only partly as a diversion. “We should determine who among the other guests are likely suspects.”
“Yes, indeed,” agreed Nicholas, recovering quickly from his agitation. “Enough time has already been wasted suspecting poor Gilbey, who is the most unlikely candidate of all. He has no interest in marriage at all just now, have you, old man? Planning to bury himself in his studies, travel the world, improve his estates, and enjoy the beautiful simplicity of his Cambridge fellowship stipend for a few years. Plenty of time for marriage later, eh?”
No doubt Nicholas was only trying to help, Gilbey reasoned, quelling a mighty urge to punch his friend. Every word was true, but at the moment it sounded like a very poor plan indeed, and this seemed a most unfortunate place and time to advertise it. He glanced at Venetia, but found her expression unreadable. Was she thinking of the secret kisses they had shared? She had every right to think him the worst sort of cad.
“A-ahem. I think we may assume the other guests are here with a definite interest in matrimony,” he said awkwardly. “After all, they have chosen to be here instead of in London just as the Season swings into full stride. We know all of them appear to be respectable and highly eligible, ’else they would never have been invited. But we also know that one among them is not as he appears.”
Nicholas took up the thread of questioning. “Who among them has a motive, then?”
“Or, who does not?”
“Lord Lindell,” said Vivian with conviction. “His parents and sister are here with him, so I think it highly unlikely that he would attempt something of this sort, even if he lacked scruples, even if he had a motive. But he is almost too young to marry. Indeed, I think it is Lady Marchthorpe’s ambitions which push both him and Lady Elizabeth to pay court to us. The worst we suspect of him is that he writes undistinguished poetry.”
It was quite a long speech for the quiet twin. For a moment everyone looked at her.
“What? Do you mean to say it is not my personal charm that has attached the Lady. Elizabeth’s interest?” Nicholas feigned horror at the very idea.
“Silly. It would hardly be the first time that happened.” Venetia had no mercy.
“How ambitious is Lady Marchthorpe?” Gilbey asked quite seriously.
“Oh ho. He sees a villain behind every tree,” Nicholas teased. “Not ambitious enough for desperate tactics, my friend. Consider how highly placed they already are! And they have plenty of feathers to fly with. No, I am inclined to agree with Vivi. It is not Lord Lindell.”
“By that reasoning, then, may we eliminate the Duke of Thornborough, the Marquess of Ashurst, the Marquess of Wistowe, and the Marquess of Amberton? They are all top of the trees, are they not?”
“No.”
Now everyone looked at Venetia.
“I don’t mean that they are not top of the trees, but that we may not eliminate them.” She sighed. “Although it seems the most probable, money is not the only possible motive. Consider. His Grace the Duke of Thornborough might believe he is too old to win one of us by the usual methods. He is so proud, perhaps he will not settle for someone of a lower rank. Certainly he is running out of time to produce an heir—he might be desperate.”
“Or simply ruthless.”
“Lord Wistowe might believe his reputation is too sullied. Lord Ashurst might fear that we are put off by his reclusive’ ways and his reputation as a cynic. The only one of them I would excuse from suspicion is Lord Amberton—I don’t believe he has the wit to put together such a scheme!”
“Ah, another witless wonder.” Gilbey could not resist the comment. When Venetia looked at him sharply, he grinned.
“The point is,” she said impatiently, “the motive depends upon their own perception of their status. How are we to know that?”
“Well, I shouldn’t think that either Lord Wistowe or Lord Ashurst would feel desperate, even if they harbored doubts about their chances for success. They have a good deal more time left than the duke.” Honor forbade Gilbey from revealing that he had an idea of Lord Ashurst’s state of mind.
“All right, that is true,” Venetia admitted. “If we are looking for desperation, however, something that the Duke of Brancaster said the other morning made me wonder about Lord Newcroft. His Grace said the viscount is extremely ambitious, always trying to prove himself. We have noticed how competitive he is. He has such tremendous wealth, it seems natural that he would seek higher rank to go with it, and marriages always do have political ramifications as well as economic and social ones. Perhaps he is not willing to take his chances along with everyone else.”
“Then we have two suspects, so far, the Duke of Thornborough and Lord Newcroft.”
“Oh dear, we did not make very much progress, did we?” lamented Venetia, “Nicholas, I promise I will not argue on the way back if you will promise, also.”
“Done.”
“Lord Cranford, you go with Vivian to deliver these packets while I go with Nicholas. That way we will not overwhelm anyone’s hospitality.”
It was a logical, thoughtful thing to do, but Gilbey was surprised by Venetia’s instructions—surprised and disappointed. Had Nicholas’s unwitting comment destroyed so easily the fragile friendship he thought had begun to blossom between him and Venetia? Perhaps he was reading too much into Venetia’s choice. Perhaps he should not be concerned over it, anyway, since their friendship could lead nowhere.
They descended from the carriage into a crowd of small children quite naturally attracted by the elegant equipage. Venetia and Vivian seemed to know all of the urchins by name and greeted them cheerfully.
“Many of the families in the village are supported by members working at Rivington,” Vivian explained as she patted a last few heads and then began to walk along the row of neat stone cottages facing the street. Gilbey noticed that she never looked at him directly the way her sister did, but kept her eyes on where she was going. “Some of the others are sheep farmers or simple shepherds.” She nodded at the bundles he carried. “We try to give extra help to any who need it.”
They stopped in at three houses, and were offered refreshment at each one despite the obvious poverty. Vivian handled her duties with tact and diplomacy, leaving the gifts without injuring the pride of those receiving them. He was impressed. His sister Gillian had always performed this duty at home, and since her marriage, he had asked his managers to take care of it. One day he would have a wife to do it. He stopped himself, appalled, when he realized he was picturing Venetia in that role.
Instead he tried to focus on Vivian. Did the villagers know she was epileptic? Would not the servants from Rivington share the secret with their families? From there it was easily spread to neighbors. He could not decide if the deference they showed her was more than the usual to be expected for one of her rank. Did he notice a few odd looks? Did she? He was not certain, and he realized suddenly that she must be accustomed to living in that state of uncertainty. Was that part of the reason she was so quiet and self-effacing, or had she always been like that? He was slowly coming to understand how thoroughly her condition must have changed her life and Venetia’s.
They met Nicholas and Venetia walking back to the carriage. The whole visit had taken less than an hour. Once the four were comfortably settled on the leather squabs of the landau and the vehicle started off, they resumed their discussion.
“We have eliminated Lord Lindell from among the earls, but what of Lord Chesdale and Lord Munslow?” Gilbey asked. “What do you feel about either of them?”
“Neither have pressed their suit with much energy,” Venetia said thoughtfully. “Perhaps they feel their chances are not good. Lord Chesdale is more interested in horses and gaming than anything, and Lord Munslow seems to be interested in Lady Norbridge.”
“On the other hand, one of the reasons you suspected me was that I did not show interest in courting you,” Gilbey pointed out. In the beginning, before I became a total fool. “Could either of them have a motive?”
“How can we know?” Venetia said crossly. “I don’t believe we are getting anywhere with this. Colonel Hatherwick is the only suitor left whom we haven’t discussed, and if he is the blackmailer then pigs fly and fish dance.”
Gilbey smiled. “The colonel is a close friend of the family. Is it not possible that he might have learned Vivian’s secret? If he felt certain of achieving his goal, he could afford to relax and spend his time fishing, could he not?”
“You are no help whatsoever!” Venetia folded her arms across her middle and with a toss of her head fixed her gaze on the scenery outside the carriage window.
“On the contrary, Netia,” Nicholas protested. “We have managed to reduce the list of suspects by four.”
“What is the colonel’s motive, then?”
“He is only a baron. Perhaps he wishes to advance his close ties to the family through marriage, but despairs of the chance that either of you would choose him.”
“Fiddlesticks!”
“We must consider who among the remaining five might have had some opportunity to learn of Vivian’s trouble,” Gilbey persisted. “It strikes me that it probably happened quite accidentally—few people would have suspected that there was anything wrong to spur an investigation.”
“You did.” Venetia’s tone was accusing.
“Lord Cranford is extraordinarily observant. That is one of the reasons I invited him to come,” Nicholas said. “It is also why he will be able to help us now.”
Damn Lord Cranford, anyway, Venetia thought, still staring out at the familiar landscape beyond the carriage window. Just what were Nicholas’s reasons for inviting him? The viscount might indeed now be trying to help, but at the moment she felt unaccountably vexed with him. Well, perhaps not so unaccountably.
Not interested in marriage! How had she so misjudged him? How had she allowed him to take liberties—not once, but twice! She should have slapped his face, but instead she . . . well, never mind that now. This was an unanticipated obstacle to her plans. Perhaps, just perhaps, he was not quite so set on those plans as he had once been. Perhaps if he developed a tendre for Vivian, he would change his mind. Perhaps, if he did not, there was still another way . . . .
Venetia stopped herself, shocked that she would ever consider trapping a man into marriage. How desperate she was becoming! But time was growing shorter with each day that passed. Tomorrow was Friday, one day short of the halfway mark. Could so much be accomplished in the week that remained?
“Yes,” Cranford was saying in the carriage. Startled, Venetia forced her mind back to the present moment. “It would indeed be helpful to consider anything we know about the delivery of the note.”
They were not far from Rivington now. Venetia answered quickly to cover her lapse in attention. “It was slipped under our door after we retired from playing cards Sunday night. The note was written in block letters, on Rivington paper that is available to any of the guests. No one but Lady Duncross retired before we did. We asked among the servants, but found none who knew anything about a note being delivered.”
“I retired just after you did,” Cranford observed.
“So you said,” Venetia replied. “It was another thing that made me suspicious of you.”
“Nicholas, you are our only hope there, then,” said Vivian. “Can you recall if anyone else left at about that time?”
“I will think on it. Blamed if I can recall at this moment, however. Lady Elizabeth was quite intent on occupying my attention that evening, as I recollect.”
The entrance façade of the house loomed closer by the minute, cutting, short the time for discussion.
“We need more information about our suspects than can be learned here at Rivington,” Cranford said. “My brother-in-law is in London at present—I will write to him. He is extremely resourceful, and he will not question my need for the information.”
“Your brother-in-law?” Venetia did not know why she was surprised. Cranford had mentioned a twin sister in the garden, but she had not been able to ask him about her with all that had happened after that. She had not thought about the fact that he had family, or how that might affect Vivian once they were married.
“The Marquess of Radclyffe. Your Duchess of Brancaster told me that she knows him. He was recently elevated by the Prince Regent after becoming Earl of Grassington. He is better known as the Earl of Brinton.”
“Splendid
idea, old man,” Nicholas said, reaching over to shake his friend’s hand. “I’ll have the letter taken into Northleach first thing. That way it will go straight into the Gloucester post for London. In the meantime, we will poke about with ears open and see what we can turn up for ourselves.”
Chapter Fifteen
Venetia had little opportunity to advance her plan that afternoon. The beautiful morning the foursome had enjoyed for their drive to Colby Compton clouded over by midday and rain soon followed, postponing the scheduled driving race in favor of a fencing match to be held indoors. To everyone’s surprise, the Duke of Roxley actually emerged from his study to take charge of the exercise. He banished the ladies to the gallery of Rivington’s entrance hall, where they could watch in separate safety while the gentlemen fenced below.
Nicholas and Gilbey, however, welcomed the opportunity to begin implementing their plan. Clad in shirts and pantaloons, all sixteen of the gentlemen at Rivington were to take part in the double elimination match. The two friends planned to watch their five suspects carefully.
“I am paired with Colonel Hatherwick in the first round,” Gilbey said to Nicholas as they waited for their turns. The hall was so large that as many as three pairs of opponents were able to fence at once. “I will try him a little, to see what surprises may be revealed in his response.”
“I am paired with Lord Amberton,” Nicholas replied. His father was already engaged against the Duke of Brancaster, and his eyes never left the dueling opponents. “I anticipate no surprises there—by Jove! Did you see that nice riposte by the Duke of Brancaster?”
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