Anna managed to nod. “I suppose that is true, although we have hardly spoken of such matters yet.”
“Then don’t let it worry you and try to ignore all the gossiping fools around here. I doubt the dowager has the influence to have your voucher revoked after all.”
Even as she spoke, the dowager heaved herself to her feet using her cane and set off toward the door of the club where two of the patronesses were still standing welcoming new guests.
“Oh dear,” Lucy sighed. “She is rather like a runaway horse, isn’t she? Impossible to stop. I still doubt Lady Jersey will listen to her. From what I hear, she doesn’t like her authority being challenged by anyone, and I doubt the dowager will be diplomatic.”
Robert came into the ballroom and paused to look about the assembled throng. He was due to meet the Prince Regent tomorrow and had hoped to go home and regroup after that. Unfortunately, he’d been drawn into consultations with the College of Arms about his title and new coat of arms. He’d also been included in several military dinners and meetings, which were impossible to refuse.
He’d spent rather too much of his spare time with the Broughtons. He’d never met a family who seemed to dislike each other so intensely, and would prefer to be on a battlefield than sitting across a dining table from the dowager and Oliver Broughton. It certainly felt far more dangerous.
The dowager seemed to delight in causing disharmony, and Robert had begun to wonder why Broughton wished to be home at all. Foley said that gossip insisted the atmosphere in the kitchens was no better with the household staff ranged firmly on the side of the family member they interacted with the most. The older retainers were for the dowager, while the younger were split between protecting the countess and the two brothers.
“Major Kurland!”
He looked down to see Miss Chingford waving at him.
She put her hand on his sleeve. “May I ask you something?”
“If you must.”
“Do you have it within your heart to forgive me?”
“No, Miss Chingford, I do not.”
“I was a fool to let you go.”
“Hardly. We agreed we wouldn’t suit. And as far as I am aware, nothing has changed.” He bowed, detached her hand from his arm, and started walking slowly toward the Broughton party where he could also see the Miss Harringtons and Andrew Stanford.
Miss Chingford didn’t follow him, but remained by the door, her hand pressed to her chest in a most affecting manner, which set all Robert’s nerves on edge. When he glanced back, her gaze had shifted to the Dowager Countess of Broughton, who had paused to exchange what looked like angry words with her.
Robert kept going, his gaze settling on the unremarkable features of Miss Lucy Harrington. She, at least, was an island of sanity and calm good sense that many of the young ladies here would do well to emulate. She was also smiling at something Stanford was saying to her, which made him pause.
“Miss Harrington?”
She looked up at him and curtsied. “Major, you’ve missed all the excitement again. The dowager countess is attempting to get Miss Chingford and Anna thrown out of Almack’s.”
“I doubt she will succeed.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Because I just saw her coming this way after speaking to Lady Jersey and she looked absolutely furious.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” Miss Harrington said. “Anna is beside herself.”
“And Miss Chingford?”
“Too busy looking for you to find out if you are to be ennobled.”
“Ah, that’s why she was trying to ingratiate herself with me again.”
“She’s already tried?” Miss Harrington shook her head. “Five minutes ago she was threatening to strangle the dowager, and now she’s moved on to reattaching herself to you. One has to admire her stamina.” She looked over his shoulder. “Where is the dowager now?”
“Talking to another old harridan and arguing with her. Does she ever stop?”
“That’s Lady Bentley. Apparently, the dowager has accused her of stealing some jewelry from her.”
“So I’ve heard over the dinner table all week.” Robert considered the gaunt peeress, who was now pointing her finger in the dowager’s face to emphasize each word. “I can’t see Lady Bentley breaking into someone’s house, can you?”
“No, but my aunt says they’ve hated each other for years, but no one quite remembers why. Recently, all-out war has broken out again.”
“The dowager does seem to have a gift for bringing out the worst in people. They are coming toward us. Let’s stage a retreat.”
Miss Harrington turned with him and pretended to admire the potted palm trees and exotic flowers that decorated the ballroom. “It must be wonderful to see such things in their natural state.”
“While your clothes stick to you, your skin is attacked and bitten by a million insects and you fear the native population are going to kill you?”
“You have no imagination, Major.”
“That’s because I’ve actually experienced such places, and know that in reality you’d be running away screaming.”
“I would not.” She raised her chin. “Although the chances of my ever being able to prove that to you, or any other man, are remote, as I’ll never be given the opportunity to travel.”
“Perhaps this mythical husband of yours had better be a world traveler. I believe Captain McNamara is looking for a new wife.”
“And he is over fifty years old.”
“I didn’t realize you were inclined to be so particular.”
“I suppose you assume I have no choice!”
“I—” He blinked at her. “I beg your pardon.”
“Accepted. Will you please take me back to my aunt?”
Taking her elbow, he maneuvered her back into the circle around Anna and the Countess of Clavelly. Broughton looked up as his grandmother approached with Lady Bentley still in tow and groaned. He put down his almost full glass.
“Oh no, not again.”
“Lieutenant, can you try and draw Lady Bentley off while I deal with your grandmother?” Miss Harrington asked. “She does look rather overwrought.”
A tray with glasses of orgeat stood on the side table and she picked up the last two. Miss Harrington went up to the dowager, who was visibly shaking with anger, her narrow lips thinned, and her cheeks a hectic red.
“My lady, please take some orgeat and sit down. You look rather warm.”
For a moment Robert tensed, ready to intervene as the dowager’s black gaze fastened on Miss Harrington. Then she abruptly held out her hand and took the glass.
“Thank you.”
“I hope it chokes the old witch.”
Robert glanced across at Oliver Broughton, who was glaring at his grandmother, his expression a mixture of embarrassment and contempt. With a muttered oath, Oliver turned on his heel and stalked away toward the card room.
“Good gracious!”
Robert switched his attention back to Miss Harrington, who was now staring down in consternation at the skirt of her blue gown.
He removed the empty glass from her hand. “You’re supposed to drink it, Miss Harrington. Not throw it all over yourself, or were you aiming at the dowager countess?”
She held the wet fabric away from her. “Someone caught my elbow from behind. This was my favorite dress.”
“I’m sure it can be fixed.” Anxious to avoid another female expressing her emotions, Robert looked frantically around. “Shall I find your aunt or Mrs. Hathaway so that they can accompany you to the ladies’ retiring room?”
“I can do that myself, thank you, Major. Oh good Lord.” She glanced distractedly around the ballroom. “Now Miss Chingford is bearing down on us and Lieutenant Broughton has allowed Lady Bentley to escape him. They are both converging on the dowager and she really isn’t well. All that rage comes at a price.”
“That’s not your concern, Miss Harrington. Let Broughton handle his grandmother a
nd take yourself off to the retiring room. I’ll stay here and tell you what happens. I even promise to intervene if it proves necessary.”
“Thank you, Major.” She gathered her skirts. “If you would be so kind as to tell my aunt where I’ve gone, I would be most obliged.”
She turned away just as the dowager stood up again to confront Lady Bentley and Miss Chingford, who converged upon her.
“And what do you two want? Do you think I have time to listen to—”
With a strangled sound the dowager clutched at her throat and started to fight to breathe. Her face contorted and she fell forward, her cane clattering to the floor as she writhed and twitched like burning parchment and finally went still.
Around them the ball went on. Only those in the immediate vicinity seemed to realize that something was amiss. Robert went down on his knees and grasped the dowager’s thin wrist. He bent even closer to observe her chest and finally stared into her wide black eyes.
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
Miss Harrington knelt opposite him. Robert swallowed hard and raised his gaze to hers. He’d seen many die, but not in such bizarre surroundings as a ballroom. It made the sight even more obscene.
“She’s dead.”
“She can’t be.”
“Fetch Broughton and his mother and see if we can find a physician.”
Chapter 5
Despite the shock of the dowager’s death, Robert still had to present himself at Carlton House the next morning. His hackney cab pulled up at the guarded entrance to the palace. The prince’s popularity with the general population was at an extremely low ebb, and since a mob had attacked him in January, he feared for his life. Robert produced the letter he’d received from Sir John McMahon and was waved through into a more secure courtyard at the rear of the property.
He wasn’t allowed to wander, though, and was escorted through the lavish apartments of the prince’s main residence until he was delivered to the private secretary’s offices. As the footman knocked on the door and was granted admittance, Robert straightened his uniform and removed his hat. In terms of influence, the Prince Regent’s secretary was at the pinnacle of power. He controlled all access to the virtual ruler of the country. One word from him could make a man’s career or break him.
For a wild moment Robert considered asking Sir John if he could decline the honor and then dismissed it. The prince would consider it an insult and despite his own personal feelings as to the current monarch, Robert was a great respecter of authority.
“Major Kurland. Please sit down.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Robert took the offered seat, set his hat on his knee, and rested his cane against the side of the chair. Sir John sat down, too, his sharp gaze moving over Robert. He was a stout, older man with faded brown hair and a rather mottled purple complexion.
“You are still recovering from the injuries you sustained at Waterloo?”
“Yes, Sir John.” Robert indicated his left leg. “My horse fell on top of me. I broke my leg in several places.”
“So I was informed. You were lucky to survive.”
“That’s true, although I doubt I’ll see active service again. My leg cannot support me properly anymore.” It was still hard for him to say those words, but he’d decided he had to. It stopped him pretending that things would get better, and reminded him of the daily struggle simply to remain mobile.
“You intend to sell out?”
“It’s already in hand, sir.”
Sir John read something from the top piece of paper on the stack on his desk. “You have a property on the Suffolk-Essex border?”
“That’s correct, sir. Kurland Hall in the village of Kurland St. Mary.”
Sir John smiled. “The Prince Regent was very taken with the tale of your heroic actions.”
“With all due respect, I hardly did anything that remarkable. In battle one does what is necessary to survive.”
“You did a lot more than that.” Sir John held up a sheaf of letters. “These are all recommendations from fellow officers.”
“That’s very . . . humbling, sir.” Robert wanted to squirm in his seat like a schoolboy. “I still insist that what I did was nothing out of the ordinary.”
“Which is exactly why the Prince Regent wishes to meet you and ennoble you.” He consulted a leather-bound book. “Will you be available later today?”
“Of course, Sir John.”
Sir John rose. “Then I will look forward to introducing you to his majesty.”
Robert stood and saluted. “Thank you, sir.”
At least he wouldn’t have to wait around for too much longer. He’d already seen his tailor, his banker, and his man of business, and knew his fortune was safe and his financial credit good enough to fund the money needed for the large-scale agricultural improvements to the Kurland estate. He couldn’t wait to get back there and inhale the fresh wind blowing in from the coast and the tartness of a spring morning.
When he reached Fenton’s he paid off the hackney cab and made his way up the stairs to his room. Foley was bustling around in his bedchamber laying his clothes out on the bed.
“I wish you’d communicate your plans to me, Major. How am I supposed to get you all packed up before the Broughton carriage returns?”
“What?”
Foley gave him a reproachful stare. “The Countess of Broughton sent a message that you were moving into Broughton House today.”
“I don’t remember agreeing to that.” He frowned. “And why would they want me there when there’s just been a death in the family?”
“Well, the lady seemed quite convinced that she needed you and it was hardly my place to disagree with her.” Foley paused as he folded Robert’s long starched cravats into a neat pile. “Don’t tell me you’ve changed your mind. I’m almost done!”
Robert sighed. “I suppose we might as well go. It will certainly help me to keep an eye on Broughton and ward off Miss Chingford.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“It’s of no matter.” Robert waved his hand at the bed. “Carry on.”
Robert handed his hat to the butler at the Hathaways’ residence and slowly climbed the stairs to the drawing room on the first floor. It wasn’t the correct time of day to pay a call, but he assumed the Harringtons and the Hathaways would be too keen to hear his news to worry about such social niceties.
“Major Kurland, ma’am.”
As he’d expected, they were all there, clustered around one of the scandal sheets that proliferated in the city streets. He was always amazed at how quickly the printers managed to discover and distribute the latest gossip about the upper classes. Miss Harrington turned to him and put down the sheet she’d been reading aloud from.
“Good morning, Major Kurland. How are the Broughtons bearing up on this sad day?”
He took the chair opposite her and surreptitiously stretched out his left leg to the warmth of the fire. His muscles were aching on such a damp morning and every step was a jarring agony.
“I believe they are still rather shocked. And just to make matters worse, Broughton was taken ill last night and the family physician was called to the house.”
“Oh dear,” Anna said. “Is he all right?”
“The doctor was still with him when I left, but I believe he was on the mend.” He hesitated. “The Countess of Broughton asked me if I’d stay at the house while Broughton was ill. I could hardly say no.”
“Of course you couldn’t. She will need your support.” Miss Harrington took off her spectacles and held up the long sheet of paper. “Have you seen what the scandal sheets are saying?”
“No, I haven’t. Why?”
“They are suggesting that Miss Chingford deliberately enraged the dowager countess to cause her death and that she laughed afterward and”—she consulted the sheet—“danced the night away without a care practically on the dowager’s grave.”
Robert snorted. “If anything killed tha
t woman, it was her own spite and venom.”
“Miss Chingford will be mortified to have her name associated with such a terrible tragedy.”
“I doubt it will bother her in the slightest.”
“Then you don’t understand how precious a woman’s reputation is in this very judgmental world.”
“Are you defending Miss Chingford, Miss Harrington?”
“I suppose I am.” She hesitated. “While you were dealing with the Broughtons last night, I spoke to the physician who confirmed the dowager’s death.”
“And?”
“He said that it seemed odd to him that the dowager had died like that.”
“Of a heart attack?”
She frowned. “No one mentioned the dowager had a weak heart.”
“Broughton told me she was not in the best of health, that’s probably what he meant. Miss Harrington, are you trying to make a scandal out of nothing?”
“Of course not, Major!” She hesitated. “Although it does seem unfair that Miss Chingford might have to bear the stigma of causing another’s death through no fault of her own. Lady Bentley might be considered equally to blame.”
“Miss Chingford has a family to protect her, and this ‘scandal’ will be forgotten as soon as someone else in society does something untoward—and you can guarantee they will.”
“I suppose you’re right,” Miss Harrington said. “Is the Broughton family receiving visitors? Mayhap you could take us back with you to offer our condolences.”
“I suspect Broughton is still too unwell to receive anyone, but I will pass on your regards and your request.” He rose to his feet and leaned hard on his cane to regain his rocky balance. “I’ll call when I have more news on the patient.”
Miss Harrington stood, too. “I’ll come down the stairs with you, Major, if I may. I have to speak to the butler.”
She followed him out, slowing her pace to allow him time to get down the stairs. In the hallway he paused to pick up his hat from the table and turned to find her still studying him.
Death Comes to London Page 6