Winthrop Trilogy Box Set

by Burnett, May

  “We still have the thousand we got from the bank last time, sitting in our safe,” Jeremy said, “but it is late in the day to find the rest. When exactly did this note arrive?”

  “Around two o’clock.”

  “That would still leave a very short interval for anyone to get her hands on such an amount in gold, even a rich lady like you,” Barnaby said. “I wonder if this fellow really expects you to hand over such a large sum, or if this is all a cruel game.”

  “Maybe both.” Jeremy would cheerfully strangle Chatteris for keeping them all dangling like this. “What does Abigail think?”

  “I have not yet shown her the note,” Milla said, “she sounded tired and dispirited when she arrived back from the country, and said she wanted to rest before going out with you in the evening. It is not truly her problem, after all, though in her loyalty to Susan she takes it very much to heart.”

  “For your sake also, I am sure.” Barnaby smiled at Milla.

  Jeremy could not explain why the late Lord Fenton would be Abigail’s concern too. “I hope she recovers her spirits in time for the ball tonight.”

  “It does not sound like the fresh country air agreed with Miss Trevelyan.” Barnaby looked at him searchingly, after ordering the hack to turn back towards their aunt’s residence. “Is there any problem?”

  “I suspect it was a surfeit of her stepmother’s company. None of us had expected the Captain and his lady to turn up like that, out of the blue.” The rest was between Abigail and him.

  Barnaby seemed satisfied with his explanation, but Milla looked at him with a strange expression. How much did she know? It stood to reason that Abigail would have confided in her to some extent. Not all, he fervently hoped. He did not trust Milla further than he could throw her.

  They had better catch Chatteris quickly, before his susceptible brother fell completely under the lovely widow’s spell.

  Chapter 25

  After a short rest and a thorough wash Abigail went to look for Milla, whom she had only briefly greeted upon her return. Lady Cirrell’s butler told her with a faint air of disapproval that Lady Fenton was not on the premises, and had gone out without her maid.

  “Very well. Please inform me when she returns,” Abigail said coolly. If the staff sniffed at Milla like this, all her efforts at turning her into a fashionable lady had been in vain. Yet Milla had not done anything truly shocking, for a widow at least. Was Abigail an inadequate guide to social survival, who never should have undertaken the task? It seemed only too likely. She was not suited for a wife or mother either, after all.

  Enough of this self-pity. At least she was still alive and Fenton was dead. Thanks to Susan and Jeremy’s help, as far as the world knew she was still a respectable young lady. She would find some way to live out her remaining lifespan in tolerable comfort, and perhaps discover another, better way to be useful in due time.

  Right now, she had a ball to prepare for. This was the only period in her life when she would be moving in the highest society with ease, treated as an equal by the proud ladies who dominated the ton. She should try to derive amusement and interesting memories from this transitory experience – enjoyment would be too much to hope for, under the circumstances.

  Abigail was exasperated with herself, the world, even Jeremy. If only he were bucktoothed and weedy rather than so very handsome, it would be a great deal easier to renounce him. Yet he was not ideal; her ideal man would love her and never let her go. Unfortunately such heroes only existed in dreams, not in sordid reality.

  Abigail’s maid was just finishing her hair when Milla returned. One look at her friend’s face told Abigail there was news. She sent the servant away. “What has happened?”

  “Another message. Chatteris now demands two thousand pounds in gold, to be brought by me alone to the foyer of a deserted theatre in Lambeth at eleven tonight. Barton and his younger brother are convinced that Rob is Chatteris, since in the latest note he refers to my late husband by his first name.”

  “Rob? Impossible.” Abigail remembered how they had taken their leave of Rob and his mother. If he had been Chatteris all this time, he would have known exactly why they went, would have been toying with them like puppets on a string. He was not that good an actor.

  “That is what I told them also. He is incapable of such cruel subterfuge. But there are no others of his generation in the Molton family.”

  “That we know of,” Abigail said. “Sometimes there are unacknowledged family members.” She had been on the verge of producing one herself, after all.

  “An illegitimate brother or cousin? Barnaby will have thought of that.”

  “Barnaby? You are on first name terms with him now?”

  “It seemed only natural; his sister is married to my brother.”

  Abigail had not found it so natural to call Mr. Winthrop by his first name, had not done so yet despite her engagement. If she had actually married Jeremy, then afterwards – but there was no point on dwelling on impossibilities. The young man was nothing to her except her friend Susan’s second brother.

  “Why did you return from the countryside pallid and disheartened, and not invigorated by exercise and fresh air?” Milla asked.

  “Never mind that now – what are you going to do? Hand over the money? This might be the best chance to catch Chatteris at last.”

  “He threatens that if I do not bring the gold, without trying to trap him this time, I will lose everything. Barton and Barnaby think that Rob is behind the letters, and merely bluffing. They both strongly advised me not to go at all, but in the end we agreed that I would leave a dummy package, and they will try once again to catch the man in the act. It should have worked the last time – maybe it will now.”

  “I cannot like the plan. If Chatteris proposed the venue, he’ll have some trick up his sleeve. I fear that whoever he may be, his threat of causing your ruin was made in deadly earnest.”

  “Yes, and I am bracing myself for what he does next. Since I never was a member of polite society before, I may not miss it all that much. I can always change my name.”

  “But all that money? You only be entitled to it as reparation for the ills Lord Fenton perpetrated on you and other women, but the purpose he had in mind would hardly be an improvement.”

  “I won’t give up my fortune without fighting, that is for sure. In any case, there is still a good chance this will may be invalid.”

  “I certainly hope that proves to be the case. I wish I did not have to go to that ball with Jeremy. We shall both be waiting upon word from you and Mr. Winthrop.”

  ***

  “You look splendid tonight,” Jeremy said when she descended the marble staircase later in the evening. Abigail wore a new dress of amber silk draped over white satin, trimmed with rows of thin braid. It exposed much of her bosom. Lady Cirrell had urged her to make the most of this prominent asset, and lent her a strand of large pink pearls to draw the gentlemen’s eyes there. Abigail caught Jeremy sneaking a glance at her bosom. Of course he had already touched that part of her body with his hands and lips – but she had to forget that night, if she was to get through this ball without major embarrassment.

  Lady Cirrell was not down yet. “I would rather join the other expedition tonight,” Abigail said. “As would you, no doubt.”

  “Our role is to deflect attention from Milla. Abigail, there is not time enough now – Aunt Penelope will be here any moment – but I need to talk to you privately, if you can make the occasion. Preferably not at the ball, where so many strangers can overhear.”

  What could there be to discuss? All had been said already. But she owed him too much to refuse. “After the ball, when you escort us back here,” she suggested. “We’ll be eager to find out about the hunt for Chatteris, anyway.”

  “What I want is far more important than that.” He raised her gloved hand to his lips.

  Did Jeremy wish to get out of their engagement already? It was all the same to her. She would rather not
go on deceiving her father and so many others with false expectations, but if Jeremy hoped to avoid additional gossip, surely it was too soon.

  The ball proved to be a very large and crowded occasion, in a series of mirrored rooms that seemed to emulate Versailles on a slightly smaller scale. Jeremy behaved impeccably as Abigail’s attentive suitor. They danced with each other and with different partners, chatted and acted as though all was well. Abigail managed to forget for as much as ten minutes at a time that she was there on false pretences, that those same ladies and gentlemen flattering her now would no longer recognize her in the not too distant future.

  She would not miss the fawning and insincere compliments, but waltzing with Jeremy was another matter. Abigail loved to dance and knew she did it well, though she had been given little opportunity to demonstrate her skill during her Season. Jeremy excelled, as he did at so many things; but feeling his arms around her waist, even at the decorous distance demanded by custom, inevitably put her in mind of that night in his bedroom. She was tongue-tied all of a sudden. These arms were familiar, she had seen and felt them naked. Never again could she look at him as just another dancing partner. After one glance at her flushed face, Jeremy concentrated on the waltz and waited patiently until she recovered from her mortifying memories.

  “It is already past one,” she said softly when she had regained sufficient composure. “I wonder how things went in Lambeth.”

  “So do I. By the way, I spotted Lord Fenton among the guests earlier, not long after eleven; it would seem that we suspected him unjustly.”

  “An alibi, I believe it is called.” Abigail forced a smile. “I am not surprised. Milla and I knew it could not be Rob. Is he still here?”

  “By now he may well have gone on to some other event.”

  It seemed he had not, for soon after their waltz ended, – their third dance of the night, only permissible because they were engaged, – Rob approached them and asked Abigail for a dance. She had already promised the next two, and could only offer him a quadrille in an hour’s time. At this rate Jeremy and she would not get back to Lady Cirrell’s residence before three at the earliest. A strange time for a confidential conversation. She might always plead fatigue to postpone it, but Jeremy would guess that it was an evasion. Besides, how could she hope to sleep without knowing what he had on his mind?

  Rob came to claim her several minutes before the beginning of their quadrille.

  As she was slowly walking towards the floor on his arm, Abigail said, “You may think this a strange question, but do you have any cousins or other relatives that are, ah, from the wrong side of the blanket?”

  He raised a brow. “Why do you ask? Do you by any chance suspect me of maintaining a secret harem in some exotic port?”

  “Of course not.” It was not a subject a respectable young lady would normally bring up, but Abigail persevered. “I was discussing with my fiancé whether all noble families have some unrecognised sprigs, or only a minority. If some woman with a child approached you and claimed it was the former Viscount’s, would you feel honour bound to support them?”

  That woman could so easily have been Abigail herself, not that she would ever have applied to Fenton’s family. She pushed the horrid thought away.

  Rob shrugged. “Given what I know of my late cousin, I am rather surprised that no such claimant has turned up. On the other hand his uncle Walter, the fifth earl’s younger brother, supposedly had a son by some actress. I have never met him.”

  But he would have been the sixth Viscount’s first cousin, and they might well have known each other – or at least of each other. “Do you have any idea how old this son would be now?”

  “No. I overheard a reference to his existence by mere chance, from my father, when I was just a boy myself. It was before I joined the Navy. For all I know this unknown relative is long dead.” He looked at her searchingly. “If I know you, there is some specific reason for these questions, Miss Trevelyan.”

  “Yes, but this is hardly the place or time to explain it. So you have no idea what became of Walter’s son, what his name was, where he lived?”

  “No, and I cannot say I care.”

  Abigail changed the subject. Presently they took their places for the quadrille, not the kind of dance to encourage conversation. Just as well – Abigail had much to ponder. Jeremy and his brother must be told about that illegitimate cousin right away … More importantly, what was Jeremy going to say to her, after this interminable ball? At least Lady Cirrell was enjoying herself at the card tables.

  As she received yet another round of good wishes on her engagement from her next partner, Abigail felt the greatest fraud imaginable. Was she never going to be just herself? During her Season she had had to hide the loss of her innocence and an illegitimate pregnancy; this time she had to hide the lack of true commitment in her sham betrothal, and the likelihood of being infertile.

  It was not easy, being Abigail Trevelyan. Maybe she would do better as someone else with a different name, a simple woman who need never meet any of these elegant strangers again.

  After a couple of days’ gossip, she would be forgotten easily enough. Nobody would miss her.

  Chapter 26

  Jeremy handed his aunt and Abigail into their carriage, and jumped up after them. His aunt was yawning, but said with considerable satisfaction, “Brughley and Lady Melsom underestimated me again. I won forty-six pounds off them.”

  “Well done,” Jeremy said automatically, though his aunt’s prowess at whist was the furthest thing from his mind just now.

  “The night is far advanced. You are not too tired?” he asked Abigail. She shook her head slightly. Though not as fresh as earlier in the evening, she still looked alert.

  “One gets used to late nights,” Lady Cirrell said, “though it takes a little while after a stay in the country, with the earlier hours there. Tonight I shall be glad to put my head on the pillow before four.”

  Jeremy eyed the tall ostrich feathers and a large glittering ornament with sharp edges nestled in Aunt Penelope’s hair. She would have to take them out, or no pillow would offer her comfort. Likely her maid was waiting up for that very purpose.

  “I want a word with Abigail when we arrive.”

  “Hmm,” Lady Cirrell looked from him to her, “since you are going to marry soon I shall allow it, but do be careful.”

  Was she imagining he planned to debauch Abigail in a downstairs sitting room or the library? If only it were a possibility. “Just talk, Aunt Penelope,” he assured his aunt. “It is late, and we are all tired.”

  “If you are only able to talk, no matter the lateness of the hour, then you are not the man I take you for,” Aunt Penelope said drily. “But you are both old enough to know what you are doing. At least I hope so.”

  Upon arrival, she left them in the Blue Salon with an admonition not to take too long.

  Abigail stood before the fireplace, her hands knit together behind her, her back very straight. Was it his fault that she felt so tense in his presence? The braid on her gown and her pearl necklace gleamed in the dim, flickering light. His eyes passed over her neat form possessively: his future wife, whether she knew it or not.

  “Thank you for agreeing to speak to me, Abigail. First of all, I need to ask your pardon.”

  She blinked. “For what?”

  “For agreeing to a provisional engagement. That was a mistake, as I should have seen it the time. I want you, Abigail, just as you are, and to the devil with physicians and probabilities and scandal. All that matters is if I can make you happy – if marriage to me is better for you than the alternative.”

  “I don’t understand.” She briefly rubbed her eyes. When she uncovered them, he winced at the piteous incomprehension in their depths. “How can you possibly want me after the fiasco of the other night? You saw how I panicked for no reason at all. I am too hurt, too broken inside, to lie with you the way a wife must. I don’t know how humiliating and awkward it was for you, bu
t I never want to experience such a thing again.”

  “It was frustrating, mostly. But we were over-optimistic to think that it would only require one attempt. The next time will be after we are married, Abigail. Then we shall have all the time and privacy in the world to deal with your very natural fears, and find a way around them. I have some ideas I would like to try out, with your permission, but not until I have the right.” He never should have tried taking her indoors in a bed during a country house visit – the occasion had been far too similar to her traumatic experience. With her on top, outdoors on a sunny day, now …but first he had to win her agreement, and from her stubborn expression he still faced an uphill battle.

  Abigail wearily shook her head. “Didn’t you listen to anything I said? How can you assume we will marry, given what we both know?”

  “How can we not marry, after what we have already done? But let’s not talk of duty – you told your father you loved me. Was it true?”

  She looked away from him for a moment. “Whether it was true or not is quite irrelevant.”

  “Not to me. I love you, Abigail. I did not realise it for the longest time, as the notion was so unfamiliar. With every hour we spend together, every waltz we dance, my feelings for you only strengthen. Marry me, sweetheart, without conditions and hesitations. Whatever remains of your troubles, we can deal with it together, as man and wife.”

  Her mouth opened wide in shock. Did she think he was incapable of love? Of course he had had no prior experience, but her surprise was hardly flattering.

  “But your duty to your family, your name!”

  “I don’t entirely despair of children. Physicians are not as omniscient as they would like us to believe, and you said the verdict was inconclusive. But if is not to be, my brothers are likely to sire sons eventually. There are cousins too. Whatever my father thinks, the future of the Winthrops does not depend only on you and me.”