The Stanforth Secrets

by Jo Beverley

  “Chloe, marry me,” he said harshly. “Preferably now.”

  She choked with laughter and turned away, hands to her burning cheeks. “Give me a little more time, Justin. A little more time. Please.” Part of her was screaming. Why? Reason was saying this was no way to decide the rest of her life.

  He rested his hands on her shoulders. “Of course, my darling. I’m just so afraid of losing you again.”

  Her heart gave a shudder at his admission. She turned to look at him. “You never said a word.”

  His smile was twisted. “How could I? What would you have done if I had?”

  Chloe tried to imagine it. “I don’t know.”

  He pulled her to him in a desperate hug. Her senses were overwhelmed by the feel of him all around her, the spicy scent of him. . . .

  “Your wedding night,” he whispered against her ear. “I thought I would die.”

  The anguish was horribly real in his voice. It seemed even more horrible that she had not felt that anguish at the time, merely puzzled disappointment. It made her doubt her feelings now. If she had loved him as he claimed to have loved her, would she not have felt something then? Would she not have distinguished between the cousins when first she met them?

  “I need time, Justin,” she repeated, as she pulled gently out of his embrace.

  She glanced at him, frightened of what she might see there, but he was in control again, though his cheeks were tinged with color and his eyes darker than usual. He even managed a laugh as he leapt to his feet and helped her to rise.

  “All the time in the world,” he said lightly. “But if you take too long, my darling, you’ll find me huddled in insanity with the Dowager, I give you warning.”

  Oh, the temptation to surrender. But as with most temptation, it was much better avoided, she told herself as they walked side by side, not touching, back to the house.

  They approached the conservatory and saw a job-coach turn away down the drive.

  “Macy, I suppose,” said Justin.

  “He cannot have wasted much time,” Chloe remarked. “You know, I find it difficult to imagine him as such an urgent suitor, and cannot see the attraction Belinda holds for him. I don’t mean to be unkind, but she has no particular beauty, her portion as George’s widow is not a fortune, and she’ll never be rid of the taint of her background.”

  “Interesting, isn’t it?” said Justin, and Chloe was alerted.

  Did he think to mix Macy into the tangled web? Good heavens, he was probably a government man come to investigate the missing papers. Perhaps his interest in Belinda was not amorous at all. Interfering with government work was surely treason. What on earth would Chloe do if Belinda was dragged off for such a crime?

  10

  CHLOE HAD TO ADMIT that Humphrey Macy appeared to be exactly as he claimed, and very unlike a spy-catcher. He was gushingly polite to her and doting toward Belinda, who had just arrived back at the Hall.

  “My dear, dear Belinda,” he said, retaining her hand. “I do hope you will permit me to address you so. I grew so accustomed to poor George talking of his lovely Belinda . . .” He sighed. “What a sad house this has been, but destined for happier days now, I’m sure.”

  Mr. Macy, man-about-town and intimate of royalty, was undeniably possessed of an air of elegant sophistication. His spindly legs, topped by an ample paunch, had been given a veneer of manliness by excellent tailoring and handsome, gleaming Hessian boots. His hair was an unlikely shade of chestnut, brushed up to give its sparsity a more youthful fullness. Chloe had long suspected he used rouge on his sallow skin, but if so, she had to confess, it was done with subtlety so one could never quite be sure.

  He turned his easy smile on Justin and Chloe, and Belinda retrieved her hand. To Chloe, she did not seem overwhelmed by Mr. Macy’s attentions. In fact, she looked worried, as well she might. If she had been responsible for the loss of the papers, then killed her colleague, the arrival of a government official must be terrifying. Once, Belinda glanced toward the door as if thinking of making an escape, but then she appeared to recollect herself and was composedly attentive to her suitor.

  Chloe’s suspicions immediately seemed ridiculous. What could account for the Massingers’ well-educated daughter suddenly turning her hand to treason? Where was the advantage in it? Frank might dabble in something illegal if it promised a quick profit and escape from servitude, but would Belinda assist him? Love was a powerful persuader, but such strength of devotion did not mesh with Belinda’s ambitious marriage to George.

  The welcoming of Mr. Macy had to be cut short, as it was time for everyone to prepare for the dinner. Chloe took a moment to ensure that all the arrangements were going forward smoothly, and that an extra place would be laid at the table, then hurried to make her own toilette. For a great many reasons, she was determined to be at her best for this first formal entertainment in so long a time.

  She had already chosen her gown, a spectacularly elegant silver gray satin, with an overdress of pink spider-gauze woven with silver thread. The bodice was cut very low and wide, showing her shoulders to advantage. The gown was perhaps a little fine for a country dinner. Yet, the simplicity of its lines meant it would pass muster, and she would wear only the simplest jewels. The gown had never been worn before. She had found it a little too mature in style. Now, nearly two years after its making, it felt exactly right.

  Agnes dressed her glossy dark hair high in a knot and circled it with a silver filigree bandeau. Into this were inserted a few deep pink rosebuds. For jewels, all Chloe wore were pink agates carved into roses—at her ears, around her slender throat, and set in a solid silver bangle on her wrist.

  When she surveyed herself in the mirror, she was satisfied. She was a woman, one whose beauty was clothed in cool elegance. She hoped this appearance would persuade any and all gentlemen to keep their distance.

  She hurried down to make a last-minute check of all the arrangements. Matthew was all pride and dignity in his best uniform, with his hair powdered. He assured her the wine was prepared exactly as it should be.

  When Chloe entered the drawing room, all the house party except Mr. Macy were there. Everyone complimented her on her appearance. Nonetheless, she saw Randal’s eyebrows rise, and the Duchess looked cynical. Self-consciously, Chloe took her place by Justin’s side.

  “You look wonderful,” he murmured. “But just a little untouchable.”

  “More than a little, I hope,” she retorted with a warning look.

  She could not prevent a betraying twitch of the lips, however, and they shared a smile. Being by his side was . . . completely as it should be, thought Chloe. She caught Randal grinning at them, and blushed when he winked.

  The Reverend Sotherby, and his sister, shy Mrs. Thornton, were the first guests. Chloe introduced them to Justin and saw him instantly put them both at their ease. Randal, however, made the mistake of paying the lady a gentle compliment, which seemed almost to overset her.

  “Is it my rank or my beauty?” he queried softly as Justin took the blushing lady over to the Duchess.

  “Well, she seems able to handle a few words with Grandmama.”

  Randal crossed his eyes and pulled a hideous face. “There. Is that better?”

  Chloe choked on laughter. “Do behave yourself, for heaven’s sake.”

  She hurried over to welcome Doctor and Mrs. Williams. These sensible, kindly people handled introduction to people of high rank with unpretentious good manners. By the time she and Justin were ready to greet the next arrivals, Chloe was pleased to see Randal and the doctor involved in a lively discussion of sailing.

  Herr van Maes, the young Dutch antiquarian, was all geniality as he arrived, full of some recent discoveries made at Cartmel, across the bay.

  “But I cannot take time to tell you here, dear lady,” he said, bowing low over Chloe’s hand, and retaining it longer than was proper. “Perhaps I can call on you one day?”

  “I am afraid I will be leaving soon, Her
r van Maes,” said Chloe, noticing the severe study Justin made of the Dutchman, almost as if he suspected him of a crime. She remembered his jealousy over the pictures, and felt a tickle of guilty amusement. “Lord Stanforth, however,” she said sweetly to Herr van Maes, “is very interested in historical matters.”

  Both gentlemen viewed this notion without enthusiasm, but Herr van Maes attempted to follow the lead.

  “Indeed. How wonderful. What is your opinion, My Lord, of St. Patrick’s Chapel?”

  “It is in a very sad state of repair,” said Justin.

  The Dutchman blinked. “But it is over a thousand years old,” he said, then shook his head and smiled. “Ah, I see. It is the English sense of humor. Lady Stanforth has also often caught me out like that.” He moved off to talk to the vicar.

  “There,” said Justin. “Even he sees how much we have in common.” After a moment, he added, “Is every man you come across in love with you?”

  “Of course not,” Chloe said.

  As if to prove her wrong, the next arrivals were Sir Cedric and his stately sister Julia, who was just back from London. Chloe was sure her gown must be the latest style. She studied the pale green silk with genuine interest. It was still constructed after the Grecian style but had more embroidery and shaping in the bodice. What particularly caught Chloe’s eye, however, was Julia’s long silk scarf, worn draped over her elbows and trailing to the floor. She had heard of the new fashion and had to confess it looked very well indeed.

  Julia lightly kissed Chloe’s cheek. “How nice you look, my dear,” Julia drawled. “How pleased you must be to finally be liberated from this benighted spot. Every time I go to London, I can scarce bear to return.”

  Chloe introduced her to Justin and Randal. She was amused to see Julia study Randal with interest, then clearly decide he was above her touch. The woman focused on Justin and had soon managed to move him a few steps away.

  “I think you’re about to be cut out,” said Randal to Chloe, sotto voce.

  “Should that concern me?” replied Chloe. Randal laughed and wandered off. Chloe turned her sweetest smile upon Sir Cedric. Meanwhile, she was aware of Julia and Justin with every nerve in her body.

  “Why have we not seen that gown before, dear Lady Stanforth?” said Sir Cedric playfully. “It must be the most beautiful one you possess. It lends you such dignity.”

  Chloe looked at him. This approval was an unexpected, and undesired, effect. “Am I so short of dignity, Sir Cedric, that I must borrow?”

  He laughed indulgently. “Well, my dear, if you borrow, it is we gentlemen who pay the interest. Is that not the way it always is? As for dignity,” he added, blind to her irritation, “we all know you have been inclined to impetuousness from time to time.”

  He, she was sure, had never been rash in his life. “There are times in life, Sir Cedric,” said Chloe sharply, “when impetuousness is called for. Or so much can pass you by.”

  His smile faded a little. “Have I offended you? I beg your pardon. You must surely know I do not hold you to blame. Your husband did not guide you as he ought, and you have been forced to bear burdens unsuitable for a female. If you have at times been obliged to be less than the perfect lady, I understand.”

  Had he always been so insufferable, Chloe wondered, or was it only in contrast with Justin he appeared so? The thought that she had been in danger of considering this man as tolerable horrified her.

  “Sir Cedric,” she said clearly. “Must I remind you I eloped from the schoolroom at seventeen?”

  A faint hint of color touched his smooth cheeks. “You were a mere child, and led astray.”

  Chloe looked him straight in the eyes in a most forward manner. “I would do it again today,” she said firmly, “in the same situation.”

  “That isn’t possible,” he responded with steady good humor. “You are no longer seventeen.”

  Chloe was prevented from uttering a blistering comment on this dense reference by Justin joining them. He was perfectly amiable and maddeningly obscure in all he said, until Sir Cedric, clearly of the opinion that the most recent Lord Stanforth was mad, wandered away.

  Justin looked down at her and shook his head. “You really cannot disembowel our guests before dinner, Chloe. It simply isn’t done.”

  Chloe had recovered her sense of humor and laughed. This mischievous Justin delighted her. “Sometime during the third course, perhaps?”

  “You’d only upset the servants.” He surveyed the company. “All in hand, I think, as long as Randal is safe from the interesting and sharp-toothed Julia.”

  Chloe glanced up at him but could see he was not interested in the older lady. Not so Randal. From Julia’s delighted reactions, Chloe guessed Randal was paying her his most skillfully risqué compliments. Chloe threw him a minatory look and received an unrepentant wink. She shrugged. She was quite confident of Julia Troughton’s ability to keep a cool head on her bony shoulders.

  Soon Colonel Sir Arthur and Lady Swayning arrived, along with Sir Hambly and Lady Kellaway, the two couples in complete contrast. The Colonel and his lady were both tall, gray-haired, and elegant. They treated everyone with the same friendly courtesy, but Chloe noticed the Colonel take the first opportunity to buttonhole Justin, doubtless for a very professional discussion of the war. Sir Hambly and Lady Kellaway, on the other hand, were short, gaudy, and raucous.

  The man had the bloated features and bulbous red nose of the hardened drinker, and his manner suggested he was already outside a few bottles. Lady Kellaway had unwisely dressed her bulky form in a low-necked, skimpy gown of silk that showed all the places her tight stays squeezed her flesh. It could have been the stays that caused her ruddy face, or perhaps she too was a frequent imbiber.

  Chloe thought those stays might pop when the lady discovered she was in the presence of the highest ranks of the ton. Not just such a lowly member of the peerage as a viscount, but the mother and son of a duke. No sooner had she been introduced than she plumped herself down by the Duchess and proceeded to tell her of all the other important people who were her intimate acquaintances. As the Duchess endured the woman’s gushing, she sent her granddaughter a look that promised retribution.

  Chloe surveyed the company. Apart from the Duchess, everyone seemed to be tolerably content. Mr. Macy, as she should have expected, was socially adroit and happy to entertain. It was difficult to know who was the most gratified— his audience to be the recipient of his anecdotes about his royal friend, or he to be the deliverer.

  Justin too had all the social skills at his command. He possessed the Delamere charm, of course, but in Stephen that had always been an unpredictable benefit, quite likely to slip into overwarm flirtation or excessive high spirits. Justin, however, was perfectly controlled, handling Sir Hambly Kellaway’s broad sense of humor and the Reverend Sotherby’s dry anecdotes equally well.

  Herr van Maes, seeing Chloe alone for a moment, took the opportunity to attempt a mild flirtation. She had no particular objection, for she had never believed he was seriously smitten by her charms. He was just the kind of man who liked to talk to pretty ladies. Despite his flirtatious intent, he always ended up talking about his obsession—Viking remains. As she expected, within minutes he was pouring out his latest research on the Battle of Brunanberh.

  “Do you know, Lady Stanforth,” he said, his blue eyes ardent with enthusiasm, “I do believe Thorold may have died at that battle. . . .”

  Chloe made suitable murmurs as he talked, but her eyes went to where Justin sat. She forced her lips to stay straight when she caught him glancing over at her. He looked so jealous. He doubtless thought the Dutchman’s ardor was directed at her, not at people dead nearly a thousand years.

  Chloe saw Belinda slip quietly into the room and sit by the Duchess. A cunning strategy. The Duchess welcomed escape from Lady Kellaway, and though that lady sneered, she would doubtless not cut Belinda in these circumstances.

  Chloe waited anxiously to see whether the Do
wager would take it into her head to join them. She was not expected, and no place was laid for her, but she might decide to come. However, by the time dinner was announced, she had not appeared.

  Chloe took her seat at the end of the table, facing Justin. They shared a glance over the wavering light from the candles. Such events as these would be part of their lives, if they married. She found the idea surprisingly attractive, even if it meant having to listen to Sir Hambly’s slurred yet vicious attacks on Luddites, Radicals, the Irish, Catholics, and women who did not know their place. She knew that boors and idiots were to be found everywhere. Better the ones you knew.

  Perhaps it was the wine, perhaps it was the neighborly atmosphere, both good and bad, but when she led the ladies away for their tea, Chloe was feeling mellow. She was even well-disposed toward Julia Troughton and pressed the woman to show off her skill on the little-used harp.

  This had an unexpected benefit, as the instrument needed some tuning, and this happily occupied Julia during this period which had been known to bring out her less attractive features—until the gentlemen appeared. Julia was not much taken by the company of women, particularly women like Mrs. Thornton and Mrs. Williams. These two ladies began to compare notes on grandchildren and sewing patterns and were somewhat awed to find the Duchess joining them. It appeared that common interests—in grandchildren, at least—overcame rank, for soon the three ladies were chattering away.

  Chloe was delighted to improve her acquaintance with Lady Swayning.

  “How sad it is,” said that lady, “that we have met so rarely, Lady Stanforth. Of course, as long as Sir Arthur was gazetted at the Horse Guards, we spent most of our time in London. Now he has retired, we will spend more time here, but you, I suppose, will be leaving.”

  “Yes,” said Chloe, feeling a contrary urge to protest. “Next week, my grandmother and I travel south. We will spend Christmas at the Towers, my uncle’s home.”

  “So soon?” said the lady in surprise. “And your cousin, Lord Randal? Does he go with you?”