Summer's Secret

by Sandra Heath

  “Mind? Me? No, of course not.”

  “It’s just that I feared she would never get here, and—”

  “There is no need to explain, sir, for I quite understand,” she interrupted.

  He gave her a grateful look, then seized Caro’s hand to lead her on to the fast-filling floor.

  Summer watched them until they disappeared in the sea of dancers, but then, quite suddenly, another couple caught her eyes. The somewhat elderly gentleman was of no interest, but his young lady companion most definitely was. Tall, willowy, and very elegant indeed in a shell pink satin ball gown that must have cost a great deal, she wore a domino that was similar to Summer’s, and her hair was completely concealed beneath a silver brocade turban. Nothing would really have set her apart in Summer’s eyes, had it not been for the eyecatching necklace at her throat.

  Summer stared at the black velvet choker and sunburst of pink diamonds. Surely there couldn’t be two such pieces of jewelry? It had to be poor Lady Harvey’s necklace!

  Chapter Eleven

  The ländler carried the lady and her partner farther toward the center of the ballroom, and Summer moved along the edge of the floor, trying to keep an eye on them. It was difficult, for there were so many people standing around that she was constantly having to apologize for accidentally nudging someone. The dancers swept around and around the sanded floor, and at last Summer had to pause by one of the large potted ferns because she lost sight of her quarry.

  She scanned the heads, trying to catch a glimpse of the silver turban, but it seemed nowhere in sight. She snapped open her fan and wafted it before her suddenly hot face. Maybe she was mistaken; maybe it wasn’t the stolen necklace. But even as she mulled over this possibility, she dismissed it. Lady Harvey’s diamond sunburst was far too distinctive; unless, of course, someone had admired it so much they’d had a copy made.

  Her fan paused. That was a possibility she could not dismiss, but even so, was it not a peculiar coincidence that within days of the original being stolen at the Black Lion, an exact copy should appear here, only twenty or so miles away? Yes, that was far too much of a coincidence!

  A determined glint entered her eyes, and she glanced around for a position from which to observe the floor more clearly. The only place appeared to be the orchestra dais, where numerous ferns, some of them very tall, also offered a little concealment, and so that was where she made her way next.

  From her new vantage spot she had a much better view of the ballroom, but for a few tense moments she thought the lady in the silver turban must have left the floor. Then, quite suddenly, Summer saw her almost directly below the dais. The diamond sunburst winked and flashed at her throat as she threw her head back to laugh at something her partner had said, then the dance carried them away again.

  At last the ländler came to an end, and Summer kept her gaze firmly fixed upon the silver turban. The lady and her partner moved to the side of the floor, where they parted. The lady glanced around for a moment, then went into the adjacent supper room. Summer hastened down from the dais, once more pushing her way through the throng to follow her quarry.

  The supper room, with its costly Chinese silk wallpaper and alabaster statues of mandarins, was crowded with guests gathered around the feast of fine food, but as Summer reached the entrance, once again there was no sign of the silver-turbaned lady.

  There was a trellised door across the room, so she hurried toward it, and on the other side discovered a candlelit passageway that led to another door. It was clearly part of the house that had not been opened up for the ball, but since she could only presume the lady had come this way, she went swiftly along the passage to inspect what lay beyond the other door.

  She found herself looking into a richly carpeted inner hall, off which opened several darkened rooms. The hall itself had a fireplace, where a log fire flickered brightly, and directly opposite a staircase led up to the next floor. Two girandoles on either side of the chimneypiece provided a little additional light to that supplied by the fireplace, but after the brilliance of the ballroom, it seemed almost dark.

  Slowly, she went inside, and as the passage door closed behind her, a strange almost muffled silence seemed to descend. She listened carefully for any sound of voices, but there was nothing. Thinking the lady couldn’t have come this way after all, she was about to leave when she heard voices approaching along the passage from the supper room.

  Not wanting to be caught in what seemed likely to be the private apartments, she drew hastily into the nearest of the darkened rooms and closed the door. Darkness engulfed her for a moment, but to her relief there was a lamp-festooned tree just outside the uncurtained window, and as her eyes swiftly became accustomed to the faint spangled light that swayed because of the wind, she realized she was in Lord Lytherby’s billiard room.

  She pressed her ear to the door and listened as the passage door opened. She immediately recognized Lord Lytherby’s voice. He was with another gentleman, and they paused for a moment, speaking in low tones, but then Lord Lytherby’s words carried more clearly.

  “This is not something I wish to be overheard. Come, we’ll be more private in the billiard room.”

  Horrified, Summer cast around for somewhere to hide. There didn’t seem to be anywhere at all, but then she noticed a tall cupboard next to the rack of billiard cues and ran over to step inside. She closed the doors just as Lord Lytherby and his companion entered. Through a crack she was able to see as Lord Lytherby lit a luminary.

  His plump face was lit from below as he held the flame to a candle on a side table, then dropped the luminary into a silver dish where it continued to burn for a few moments before going out. The candle flame leapt as he brought it to the billiard table and set it down on the smooth green baize, where he was lit by the dancing light but not his companion.

  “What have you to tell me?” Lord Lytherby demanded curtly.

  “Nothing much as yet.”

  Summer’s brows drew together, for the other man’s voice was known to her, but on only four words she couldn’t place it, except to say it wasn’t a young man’s voice.

  The reply hadn’t pleased his lordship. “Don’t be mistaken enough to think that delay will avail you of anything.”

  “You misjudge me.”

  Again the response was too brief for Summer to come to grips with the voice.

  Lord Lytherby drew a long breath. “There are less than two weeks in which to find a justifiable reason to halt this match, one that will not estrange my son from me, so you’d better get on with it or it will be the worse for you!”

  Summer’s lips parted. Caro was right, Lord Lytherby did now oppose the match!

  Lord Lytherby continued. “I wish to God I’d never agreed to it in the first place, but circumstances were different then. I can’t afford to tolerate a nonentity like your niece as my daughter-in-law when there is a much more fitting bride to hand!”

  At last Summer knew who the second man was, for there was only one person to whom Caro was niece—George Bradshaw! So the odious lawyer was against the match, in fact he was actually aiding and abetting Lord Lytherby!

  Lord Lytherby hadn’t finished. “If I’m to see my son married to my ward, this has got to be done quickly, do I make myself clear? All you have to do is find a way to convince that fool Merriam that this match is not in his daughter’s best interests. I don’t care what you say to him, provided my involvement doesn’t come to light. I warn you, if that should happen, I’ll tear your heart out with my bare hands. Fail me any way, and I’ll use your debts to ruin you.”

  “I’ll do everything to your satisfaction,” the lawyer said quickly. “I began the task this morning, but there simply isn’t any progress to report as yet, except that I believe the seeds of doubt have taken root.”

  Summer inhaled slowly. This morning. Yes, in Berkeley! But what had the odious man said to poor Uncle Merriam?

  For a moment it seemed Lord Lytherby might press for precise detail
s, but instead he nodded. “Very well, I’ll leave it with you.”

  George Bradshaw’s relief was almost palpable. “All will be accomplished in good time, my lord. You may be certain that the betrothal will be broken off, and Miss Huntingford will be your son’s bride, just as you wish.”

  Lord Lytherby grunted. “Just handle it carefully.” He picked up the candle again. “Well, that’s all for the moment. No doubt you and Merriam will join the Berkeley Hunt tomorrow?”

  “We will.”

  “If you have anything further to tell me, you may do so then, but discreetly.”

  “Very well, my lord.”

  Lord Lytherby went to open the door, and as the light from the hall shone palely into the room, he extinguished the candle, returned it to the side table, then strode away toward the passage that led back to the ball. After a moment George Bradshaw followed, closing the door meticulously behind him.

  Summer remained as quiet as a mouse in the cupboard, fearing that either man might return and realize she’d overheard their conversation, but as the minutes ticked by, she felt safe enough to emerge from hiding. The spangled light from the tree swayed dimly over her gown as she tiptoed to the door. There wasn’t a sound, so she went quietly into the hall, then paused to adjust her domino. But as she undid the little ties to quickly do them up again, the domino fell to the floor.

  At that precise moment the passage door was opened by a masked gentleman in a black corded silk coat and white silk knee breeches. In spite of his mask, his golden hair gave his identity away in a moment. It was Brand.

  Startled, he halted. “Olivia?”

  She stared at him in such great alarm that for a second or so she couldn’t think or move, but then she regained her wits, snatched the domino from the floor, and fled up the nearby staircase.

  “Olivia!”

  She reached the top of the staircase and glanced around at the brightly lit passages that led away on all sides. Choosing one, she ran along it as fast as she could, then saw some large double doors and slipped hastily through. It wasn’t a room on the other side; instead she found herself in a two-hundred-foot-long gallery that led from one end of the house to the other.

  There was another set of double doors at the far end, but they seemed a very long way away, and since every candle, lamp, and chandelier had been lit, she couldn’t possibly hope to avoid being seen. She heard Brand’s steps behind her, so for the second time that night she cast around desperately for somewhere to hide.

  One side of the gallery was taken up by floor-to-ceiling windows with heavy mulberry silk curtains that had been left undrawn so the light inside would shine out into the night. She ran to the nearest window and pressed among the rich folds of silk just as Brand flung open the doors.

  For a few seconds there was silence, then he spoke. “I know you’re in here, Olivia, so you may as well show yourself.” An echo took up his voice and carried it along the gallery.

  She held her breath, praying she wasn’t shaking so much that the curtain would tremble visibly. She wished the recorder would bring a halt to this visit to the past. Surely it was time now? Yes, it was at least two hours since she’d found herself seated before the dressing table at Oakhill House. Take me back now, please— Her unvoiced entreaties came to an abrupt halt as Brand spoke.

  ‘This is foolish, Olivia, for there is no other way out of here; the other doors are locked.”

  Locked? That single word dashed any lingering thought she had of making a bid to escape. She closed her eyes.

  He came farther in, his steps slow and intimidating. “I have no intention of leaving, madam, so the sooner you have the grace to face me, the better.”

  She made no sound.

  There was a long silence, and she began to feel unnerved. Why was he just standing there? Why didn’t he at least start searching?

  Suddenly, the curtain was jerked aside, and she screamed as he seized her. “We meet yet again, sweet Olivia,” he breathed, his dark blue eyes angry behind his mask.

  Chapter Twelve

  The domino slipped from Summer’s fingers as she struggled with all her might, but he merely laughed, for her efforts were futile against his superior strength. “Don’t waste your energy, madam, for without the advantage of a riding crop, you stand no chance.”

  “What do you want of me?” she cried, still trying to wrench free of him.

  He snatched off his mask and tossed it aside. “I will ask the questions, madam. To begin with, I wish to know exactly who you are.”

  She pressed her lips together stubbornly.

  “Tell me, Olivia.”

  “No, for it is none of your business.”

  “It’s very much my business.”

  “Why, because you belatedly wonder with whom you shared a bed?” She met his eyes squarely.

  He relaxed his hold a little and moved back, although still without allowing her any chance to escape. “Yes, we did indeed share a bed, and a very pleasurable experience it was too, but then as I said at our last encounter, I suspect you’ve had vastly more teachers than just your late husband, if indeed there ever was a late Mr. Courtenay.”

  “Someone of real experience would have detected at a glance that you were no gentleman, sir, but I was too naive to realize the truth about you until the following morning, when your shabby conduct revealed your true low colors.”

  He gave a cool laugh. “Ah, yes, you are the sweet little innocent, I am the beast who used you to satisfy his base male lust before casting you aside like an old rag.”

  “That’s exactly how I’d describe it,” she said levelly.

  “Well, let’s get to the truth about your presence at the Black Lion, shall we? You weren’t simply staying there on your way anywhere. You had very particular reasons.”

  She stared at him. Did he know about Jeremy? No, that was impossible!

  He gave a contemptuous laugh and put his hand to her cheek in a parody of a caress. “Ah, sweet, sweet Olivia, you’re really quite perfect for the task, aren’t you?”

  “Task? I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Do you deny that you went to the Black Lion expecting to meet someone else?”

  Her lips parted. He did know about Jeremy! But how? How?

  “Guilt is written all over you, Olivia, so please don’t insult me with this pretense of being the wide-eyed innocent!” he snapped, taking her arms and pushing her against the curtain.

  “What a fool you made of me! Your lover Fenwick let you down, so you took me to your bed instead. Oh, how passionately you gulled me, how sensuously and cleverly you made me believe you knew nothing of what had been going on. You were even convincing with the Harveys the next morning, being the soul of solicitous concern, when all the time...” He didn’t finish.

  At last she thought she knew what he was accusing her of, and she was both indignant and alarmed. “I had nothing to do with those thefts!”

  “Liar! You and Fenwick are lovers, and you went to the Black Lion to steal what valuables you could.”

  “No!” she cried.

  In reply he took from his pocket the crumpled letter he’d retrieved at the Black Lion and held it up in front of her. “Oh, yes, my dear, the tenderly expressed evidence survived, albeit without your name,” he said, returning it to his pocket.

  Caught completely off guard, she could only stare at it. “I can explain ...”

  “I have no doubt of that, Olivia, for your kind are always proficient liars.”

  “My kind? My kind?” Suddenly, her stunned disbelief transformed into fury. “How dare you stand there calmly accusing me of lies and villainy! I don’t deny an exceedingly misguided intention to meet Jeremy Fenwick for dinner at the Black Lion. Dinner, sirrah, not a night of lust and thieving! Believe me, I was very thankful indeed when he failed to arrive. He was my late husband’s close friend and helped me when Roderick died, but that is the full extent of my friendship with him, no matter what the tone of the le
tter may suggest to the contrary! I had nothing to do with those thefts, and since Jeremy wasn’t even in Tetbury that night, I fail to see how you can accuse him either.”

  “Major Jeremy Fenwick is a felon who has gone absent without leave from his regiment after stealing from his fellow officers.”

  Her eyes widened, then she shook her head. “No, I won’t believe it.”

  “Your playacting is becoming tiresome, Olivia, for the letter establishes that Fenwick is your lover, and I know that you and he are fellow thieves! Which brings me to tonight. Where better than a masked ball for a light-fingered intruder to move without detection, not only in the ballroom but in the private apartments too.”

  Her mouth began to run dry. “No,” she whispered. “I’m not an intruder. I’m here by invitation and have no purpose other than to enjoy the ball...”

  “Don’t lie! Fenwick’s here as well, isn’t he? Isn’t he?”

  “No!” she cried. “At least...”

  His eyes sharpened. “Yes? At least what?”

  “This morning I thought I saw him in Berkeley. It was only a reflection in a mirror, and when I turned, he’d gone. He wasn’t in uniform, and I’m certain he was dismayed that I’d caught a glimpse of him.”

  She was confused and a little frightened. What if Jeremy had been the thief at the Black Lion? If Brand believed the letter was compromising evidence of her involvement in the crimes, might not a court of law take the same view?

  Brand gave a disdainful smile. “You’re almost believable.”

  His scorn caught her on a nerve, and suddenly she found her spirit again. “And why should I believe you about anything?” she challenged. “I wasn’t the only one at the Black Lion that night, was I?”

  Now his lips were the ones to part in amazement. “You have the gall to accuse me?,” he asked.

  “Why not?” A new thought occurred to her. Lady Harvey’s diamonds! The stolen necklace and this man were under the same roof. She knew she was innocent of stealing it at the Black Lion, but she didn’t know anything at all about him, except that he was the most wonderful lover she’d ever had.