by Mary Nichols
‘Oh, sis...’
‘You had better go up to your room and make yourself presentable before Aunt Emmeline comes down. She must know nothing of this.’
He scrambled to his feet and disappeared, leaving her lost in thought and very near to tears herself. Her brother had never really grown up. Although six years older than she was, he behaved like her junior, looking to her as he had to his other sisters to pull him out of the scrapes into which he sank. But how could she? Could she sacrifice herself as Jane had been prepared to do? Even if she did, she had to be sure any husband she chose was not only rich enough, but prepared to use those riches to pay Teddy’s debts. She began mentally ticking off the possibilities: Reggie, Richard, Lord Gorange, Vincent Malthouse... Mr Malthouse would not do. He would have no money until he inherited, but the others, all three well up in the stirrups, all three wanting to marry her. What she could not understand was why. She shuddered. So much for her dreams of a love match.
* * *
There was something wrong with Sophie, Adam decided, when he called later that day to tell everyone that he was leaving London. Her face was pale, her blue eyes puffy and red, her whole demeanour subdued. She had been quiet the previous evening, but nothing like this. She was behaving as if she had received a body blow. Who or what had done this to her?
‘Miss Cavenhurst, are you not well?’ he asked gently.
‘I am perfectly well, my lord. A little tired perhaps.’
Other people came and went and Lady Cartrose received them exactly as she always did. She was not unfeeling, so he could only surmise that whatever was wrong had been kept from her. Sophie had got herself into a scrape and it must be very serious to put the light out in those lovely eyes and make her move so listlessly. He felt an unaccustomed urge to take her into his arms and comfort her, and if there had been no one else in the room he might well have done so. He forgot why he had come in his determination to find out what it was and help her if he could. To do that he needed to speak to her alone.
The polite time for an afternoon call came to an end and everyone made to leave. He hung about to be the last. ‘Miss Cavenhurst,’ he whispered while Lady Cartrose was bidding farewell to Mrs Malthouse. ‘I must speak with you alone.’
She had been looking at the floor, but now lifted her head to look at him in surprise. ‘My lord, no.’
‘No? What do you mean, no?’
‘It is not proper.’
In spite of himself, he chuckled. ‘When have you been so concerned with what is proper? That is not the Sophie Cavenhurst I have come to know. I am not about to offer for you, if that is what you are thinking. You have made it abundantly clear you would not entertain the idea. Friends, you said. It is as a friend I wish to speak to you.’
‘Oh.’ Too late she realised Jane had been right when she said falling in love was not something you could order, nor could you be sure that your love would be returned. The few times he had touched her had been acts of chivalry, not an indication of any deeper feelings for her. He behaved in the same way towards other ladies, young and old. She was no different. She had found the man to equal Mark, even surpass him, but Adam’s own words echoed in her brain. ‘I am not about to offer for you.’ ‘It is as a friend I wish to speak to you.’ A friend—that was all she was to him. It was a painful revelation.
‘What are you two whispering about?’ Lady Cartrose demanded. Mrs Malthouse had gone and he was the only one left and her deafness had prevented her from hearing their conversation.
‘I was asking Miss Cavenhurst if she would care to come riding with me tomorrow morning,’ Adam told her, raising his voice a little.
‘I am sure if she wishes to go I have nothing against it,’ the lady said. ‘No doubt Edward will accompany her.’
‘Will you?’ He addressed Sophie. ‘In the morning before the sun becomes too hot.’
Teddy had suggested she could make him change his mind. But how could she? He seemed impervious to women’s wiles, and she would not demean herself by attempting it. On the other hand it would be churlish to refuse him. ‘Very well, I shall be pleased to.’
‘Good. I will call about nine o’clock and will bring a mount for you.’
‘Thank you.’
He picked up his hat from the hall table. ‘Cheer up. It won’t be half as bad as you think,’ he murmured, settling the hat on his head.
She watched him striding easily down the front steps and off along the road and her heart felt fit to break.
* * *
Somehow she got through the rest of the morning, conversing with her aunt, picking at her food at nuncheon and declining to go out. Even her aunt was worried about her. ‘Are you not well, child?’
‘I am tired, Aunt. I am not used to such a continuous round of engagements.’
‘Oh, is that all? We will have a day at home and you shall rest.’
Rest she could not. She picked up a book and pretended to read, but her thoughts were whirring round and round in her head and going nowhere. She tried some embroidery that her aunt had started but never finished, but after a few stitches, she let it drop into her lap. Outside the sun was shining; the garden invited her. She took a parasol and ventured out to pace up and down, turning Teddy’s problems over in her mind, and they became all mixed up with her own huge problem. She had fallen in love and it was a state of affairs that could have no happy ending.
Teddy would probably say that was the best thing that could have happened. He would tell her to make a push to win the man, make him change his mind about not marrying again and they would both benefit; a man like Viscount Kimberley could easily afford a few thousand to pay off his debts. Even if she could change his lordship’s mind—and how did one go about that? she wondered—she would be using him. That would be dishonest and would stand in the way of any chance of happiness. Far from making it easier, it made it more difficult, impossible. Teddy would never see that it was out of the question. Where was her brother? She had not seen him since breakfast. Surely he had not gone gambling again?
The person most to blame was Captain Moore. Teddy would not ask him for more time to pay, but she could. Where could she find him? The only place she thought he might be was White’s, but ladies certainly could not go there. She thought about this for some time as she paced up and down, then, making up her mind, went indoors and made her way up to Teddy’s bedchamber.
Her brother had eschewed the services of a valet. At Greystone Manor he relied on his father’s valet to help him with his toilette and the servants to tidy up his clothes. In London, it was Bessie who tidied up after him. She had even been known to tie his cravat for him. Hoping her maid was not in the room, she opened the door gingerly. There was no one there. It only took a minute to extract a suit of clothes, a shirt, cravat, hose and a tall hat, and then she was speeding along to her own room to change into them.
She made a passable boy, she decided as she surveyed herself in the mirror over the night table and stuffed most of her hair up into the crown of the hat. She could not wear Teddy’s shoes—they were far too big—but she put on her own riding boots and tucked the breeches into those. She opened her door carefully and peered along the landing. There was no one about.
Two minutes later she was outside and strolling along the street, apparently without a care in the world. If it were not for the fact that her errand was so serious, she would have been enjoying herself. She met no one she knew on the way to St James’s Street, so her disguise was not tested, but none of the strangers who passed her gave her a second glance, so she thought it must pass muster.
St James’s Street was busy. Several of the gentlemen’s clubs were situated there and patrons came and went, on foot and in cabs and carriages. The only women she saw were a couple of dubious characters.
She was stopped by the doorman when she attempted to enter Whit
e’s. ‘Members only, young man.’
‘I am looking for Captain Moore.’ She tried to deepen her voice. ‘I have an urgent message for him.’
She was told to wait while the captain was fetched. As she stood, wishing she had never come, several people passed her and eyed her with curiosity. From farther in the building she could hear men’s voices, shouts and laughter. And then she saw the captain coming towards her and her nerve almost deserted her.
‘You want me?’ he queried, stopping in front of her.
‘Yes.’
‘I don’t know you, do I? What’s your name?’
‘It doesn’t matter what my name is. I need to speak to you in private.’
‘Then, let us take a stroll.’ He led the way into the street. ‘Now, what is it that you have to tell me? I left a lucrative game and would return to it.’
‘Is Mr Cavenhurst with you?’
‘Cavenhurst? No, I have not seen him today at all.’
She breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Good. I believe he owes you a considerable amount.’
‘He does that. What has it to do with you?’
‘I am his friend. I come to ask you to give him more time to pay.’
‘He is a coward as well as a welsher, sending a stripling to plead for him.’ He paused and laughed. ‘Of course, you are no stripling, are you, Miss Cavenhurst?’ He reached out and pulled off her hat, making her hair cascade about her shoulders. ‘You make a lovely boy, my dear, but I would have to be half-blind to be deceived.’
‘It was the only way I could get near you.’ People were looking at them and smiling. She grabbed her hat from him and put it back on, pushing her hair up into it. It wouldn’t go back as well as it had when she’d had a mirror to help her, and strands of it escaped.
‘I am flattered.’
‘Don’t be. You knew Teddy could never resist a gamble—why did you encourage him?’
‘He needed no encouragement.’
She realised this was true. ‘You could have refused to play with him.’
‘What, and denied myself the pleasure of taking his money?’
‘He has no money.’
‘Now, that is a great shame, because I really need him to pay up.’
‘Give him more time.’
‘Why should I?’
‘It is the only way you are going to get it.’
‘Is that so?’ He smiled, revealing a broken tooth. ‘Now, I can think of an alternative. You are really stirring up my baser instincts dressed like that. I am wondering what it would be like to have a young lad in my bed who turns out not to be a lad after all. For that pleasure I might forgo the debt.’
‘You are disgusting!’
He shrugged. ‘Then, Teddy must find a way of paying me. Remind him, when you see him, that I charge interest by the day.’
She fled and made her way back to Mount Street, uncaring that more of her hair was escaping and her small strides were giving her away. Her mind was whirling. She had been right about Captain Moore when she’d first met him: he made her flesh creep. He must be depraved if he thought she would consider his suggestion. She went into the house by a side door and scuttled up to her room to change back into her own clothes. Teddy’s room was exactly as she had left it. She put his clothes back where she had found them and went to her room to sit on her bed with her head in her hands. Bessie found her there when she came to help her dress for supper.
‘What is the matter, Miss Sophie?’
‘Nothing. Have you seen anything of Teddy?’
‘Not since this morning. Why?’
‘I just wondered where he was.’
‘He’ll be back directly, I’ve no doubt. You are not engaged to go out tonight, are you?’
‘No, the Malthouses are coming.’
‘Then what about the pink sarcenet with the silk roses?’
Bessie was evidently not worried by Teddy’s absence and as far as Sophie could tell, knew nothing of the afternoon’s futile escapade. She dressed and went down for supper, which she ate with her aunt and Margaret. Fortunately the two ladies had plenty to gossip about and her quietness was not noted.
‘I thought Edward was going to dine with us,’ Emmeline said. ‘He was to make a fourth for whist.’
* * *
He had not returned when Mr and Mrs Malthouse arrived for their usual game, bringing Cassie with them. Since she had been able to have the viscount’s undivided attention for most of the time at Ranelagh, for which she felt grateful to Sophie, she had forgiven her and they were friends again. Margaret made up the four for the whist, so the girls were left to amuse themselves.
Cassie was bubbling over with excitement. ‘He is even more agreeable than I first thought,’ she said, referring to the viscount. ‘He listened with grave attention to what I had to say and concurred with me on almost everything. When I stumbled he took my arm to steady me. I am sure it will not be long before he speaks to Papa.’
Sophie had not the heart to disillusion her friend. But perhaps she was not under an illusion and the reality was that the viscount’s comments about Cassie being empty-headed did not count for anything. Men did not like women who were their equal in brains, she had been told. Oh, how difficult it was to tell. And what did it matter anyway? Viscount Kimberley was not for her. But she was very careful not to hint that his lordship was going to take her riding the following morning. She looked over at her aunt, who was concentrating on her cards, and hoped she would not mention it, either.
‘Cassie, I have heard you play the pianoforte beautifully,’ Sophie said, anxious to end the conversation about the viscount, which was twisting the knife into an already broken heart. ‘Would you play something for us now?’
‘Oh, I don’t know...’
‘Yes, Cassandra,’ her mother put in, proving that she, at least, had been listening to the girls’ conversation. ‘Play that piece you have been practising.’
‘Oh, do,’ Sophie said. ‘I am quite hopeless myself. Papa said it was a waste of money paying for my lessons, so I gave up.’
Cassie went over to the instrument and sat down to play. Sophie had to admit Cassandra played well, an accomplishment that Lord Kimberley would undoubtedly appreciate. What accomplishments did she have, apart from being a hoyden and having a brother for whom gambling was an addiction? Her applause and praise when the short piece came to an end was genuine. ‘Encore,’ she cried.
Cassie played until the game ended and her parents prepared to leave. It was after they had gone, her aunt mentioned Viscount Kimberley. ‘I notice you did not tell Cassandra that he was going to take you riding tomorrow,’ she said.
‘Didn’t I? I must have forgot.’
Her aunt laughed. ‘Very wise, my dear. But do you really think his lordship is about to offer for Cassandra or is she deluding herself?’
‘I don’t know what is in his lordship’s mind, Aunt.’
‘No, I do not think anyone does. But he would hardly take you riding if he has his sights set on someone else.’
‘Perhaps he wants to tell me about it himself before it becomes official.’
‘Now, why would he do that, unless he thinks you have developed a tendre for him and he needs to let you down lightly?’
‘Oh, Aunt, that is absurd.’
‘We shall see. I am going to bed. I suggest you do the same if you are to be up betimes for your ride. And do not wait up for your brother—there is no telling when he will decide to come home. I have told Cook to make him up a tray of cold food for when he comes in. Leave him a note on the tray so that he knows he is to accompany you in the morning.’
* * *
When Sophie came down next morning, dressed for riding, she found the tray and her note were untouched. She sent a footman to see if her brother was
in his room, but he returned to say Teddy’s bed had not been slept in. Where was he? His anguished cry that she would find him in a back alley with his throat cut flew into her mind. Had something dreadful befallen him?
She had no time to dwell on this because Adam had arrived and was being ushered into the room. He bowed. ‘Good morning, Miss Cavenhurst. You are ready, I see.’
‘Yes, I am ready, but I am not sure...’
‘Not sure of what?’
‘Teddy is not here. He should be coming with us.’
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know. He did not come home last night. He is often out into the early hours, but I have never known him stay out all night.’
‘Shall I ask a groom to ride behind us? Would that serve?’
‘What? Oh, yes, but why bother? My reputation is already in tatters.’
He came closer and put his hand on her arm. ‘You are truly worried about your brother, aren’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘Ten to one, there is nothing to worry about. He is probably carousing with friends or might even have found other, sweeter company.’
She knew what he meant. ‘Do you think so?’
‘Why not? He is young and virile—it is only natural. No doubt when we come back from our ride he will be home and contrite that he has worried you so much.’
‘He is always contrite,’ she said dully.
‘Come, then. We ought not to keep horses standing in the street. If he has not returned by the time we come back, I will undertake to go and look for him.’
She followed him out into the street where his bay and a lovely brown mare waited for them with a street urchin holding their bridles. Adam gave him a groat and bade him buy himself a good dinner and the lad scuttled off, more than pleased with his earnings.
‘What do you think of her?’ Adam asked, taking the bridle of the brown mare and bringing her round for Sophie to mount. ‘Her name is Swift.’
‘Is she swift?’
‘I don’t know. That is for you to find out, but I would guess she is.’ He bent and cupped his hands for her foot and then threw her up into the saddle. She picked up the reins and settled her foot in the stirrup, spreading her habit neatly about her. ‘I am thinking of buying her,’ he added, ‘and would like your opinion.’