by Louise Allen
He was curious about who I was and why I was there, but that was it. Which meant, if I was correct, that he was a man in danger at a time when his orientation could take him to the gallows. Not likely for one of the upper crust, they would flee abroad if scandal broke, but even so he must have to watch his every word, every action.
‘I am James Franklin.’ He held out his hand. ‘Dreadful of me not to wait for an introduction, I know.’
‘Cassandra Lawrence.’ I took his hand. ‘Your long-lost cousin from Boston, America.’ I sat down.
‘I have a long-lost cousin?’ He subsided back onto the carpet with loose-limbed grace and began packing away the soldiers in their wooden box.
‘If you are Lord Radcliffe’s brother, then, yes, you do now.’
‘And you are visiting London. Where are you lodging, Miss Lawrence?’
‘Here. And call me Cassie, Lucian does.’
His jaw dropped, just a little. ‘I see.’
‘I don’t think you do.’ I had a nasty feeling that this was the third person who was going to be let into my secret. ‘It is absolutely not like that.’ Unfortunately.
‘Like what?’
‘What you were thinking.’ He had the grace to look embarrassed. ‘Who are the toy soldiers for?’
‘My nephews. Luc’s twins.’
Chapter Eight
It was a good thing I was sitting down. Lucian himself came in before I had the chance to make an absolute idiot of myself by seizing his brother by the neckcloth and shaking him until he told me about Lucian’s wife.
‘James, what the blazes are you doing here? I thought you were down in Brighton.’ He sounded pleased to see his brother, but the look he sent me was one of warning.
James got up again and gave his brother the sort of hug cum shoulder buffet that passes for affection between men. ‘Bored, cold and convinced I was missing out on something.’ He glanced at me. ‘And I obviously was.’ He bent and picked up the last of the soldiers then pressed the box into Lucian’s hands. ‘For the brats.’
‘Jas, they are two.’ But Lucian was grinning. ‘I suppose they will grow into them.’
‘And we can play with them in the meantime.’
‘Lady Radcliffe does not join you in London then?’ I asked, as cool as I could manage after two minutes of deep breathing.
‘No, she prefers the country estate.’
James said, with an air of perfect innocence which did not convince me for a moment that he was unaware I was fishing, ‘Our mama, the Dowager Countess, that is. She takes care of the twins in the fresh Suffolk country air.’
‘But – ’
‘My wife died giving birth,’ Lucian said. He sounded perfectly cool and collected about the fact. It was two years ago. Had he loved her?
‘I am so sorry. You must miss the children.’ What else was there to say?
‘I get back to see them at least once a month.’
I watched as his attention returned to his brother and tried not to feel glad that a man I was attracted to was not married. What the hell had I been hoping for anyway? An affair with someone dead for almost two hundred years?
‘I would be at Whitebeams now if this other matter had not detained me.’
‘Other matter? You mean Miss Trenton is still missing? How are you involved?’
‘Luncheon is served, my lord,’ Garrick said from the doorway.
‘Good. You’ll stay, Jas? And Garrick, lay for yourself as well and eat with us. I want to bring everyone up to date.’
We sat around the oval table, Garrick seeming remarkably at ease. He was obviously far deeper in his master’s confidence than the average valet. Looking round as we settled after the first flurry of passing bread and butter and deciding between ham, tongue or chicken I had the whimsical thought that someone was going to start taking the minutes of the board meeting at any moment.
Lucian told James everything up to the encounter with the footpads in the alleyway. ‘And then Cassie appeared.’
‘Where from, for goodness sake?’
‘We had better tell him,’ Lucian said to me. ‘You can trust him.’
‘What with?’ James demanded.
‘It isn’t where I came from,’ I explained. ‘It is when. I travelled back in time from the future.’
There was silence broken by the sound of the butter knife falling into the silver dish.
‘The future. And you have convinced my brother and Garrick of this how, exactly?’ James said eventually.
We explained, taking turns, and then Garrick got up and fetched the contents of my bag. ‘With your permission, Miss Lawrence? I don’t know how else to explain these things, sir.’
‘What is this?’ James, of course, had to pick up a condom.
‘A condom,’ I said. All three men stared at me, rendered comically speechless. Then I remembered that condoms then were ghastly things made of cows’ intestines and secured with ribbons and mainly used to prevent infection. If nothing else, this one ought to convince James. ‘Open it.’
Bless him, he had gone pink. He bent his head over the tiny package, trying to puzzle out how to get into it. He tore it open and stared at what had fallen out. ‘Impossible.’ He handed it to his brother who passed it on to Garrick who hastily handed it back to James.
‘Unroll it,’ I suggested. Why is there never a banana when you need one?
‘Good God,’ James said faintly after a moment. He dropped his napkin over the condom.
‘I should explain that sex before marriage is quite normal in Britain when I come from. It is a matter of personal choice – just in case you are running away with the idea that I am a... professional.’ That did it. He went scarlet. ‘And we have no idea how my presence here, in the past, will affect the future, so I am trying to give away as little as possible. You can’t tell anyone.’
‘No-one,’ Lucian said. ‘I need your word of honour, Jas.’
‘You have it.’ James took a large swallow of ale. ‘Who in blazes would believe me if I told them?’ He reached for the ale jug, topped up his glass and took another drink. ‘I am assuming I am awake and neither drunk nor concussed?’
‘If you are, we all are,’ Lucian said, sounding rather more cheerful about it than I had expected. ‘So, Cassie is assisting with the search for Arabella Trenton.’
James listened in silence to our account of the morning until I mentioned searching the house. ‘Her brother? You, Cousin Cassandra, have a nasty suspicious mind. I cannot say I blame you – I do not like the man. Are we going tonight? I’m in if we are.’
‘Why don’t you like him?’ I asked. ‘He seemed very pleasant to me.’
The colour was up over James’s cheekbones again. ‘Let us just say he does not like me, or my friends.’
Ah. So Lord Cottingham suspected, or knew, about James’s orientation and made his disapproval clear. But, it seemed, did nothing else about the matter, despite it being a criminal offence. Presumably the upper classes closed ranks to protect their own, even if they disapproved. And if they would shield one law-breaker for his sexual preferences, who else – or what else – might they turn a blind eye to?
The warning glance Lucian shot at his brother before he spoke confirmed that I guessed right about the reason for the friction. ‘When we go depends on what Cottingham is doing. Have you any idea, Garrick?’
‘As it happens, my lord, I have. I made a point of speaking to Mr Jepson, his lordship’s valet, when I saw him this morning at the chemist. He was complaining that his gentleman was attending Lady Worthington’s masked ball tonight. Not only had he failed to warn Mr Jepson that he would be requiring his domino, but he is not expected back until the small hours and Mr Jepson resents yet another late night.’
‘Belle Worthington’s ball? Confound it, I wanted to go to that,’ James complained.
‘We will attend, both of us, and be very visible before we don our masks and vanish into the throng – and straight out again.’
‘Thus establishing your alibis. Where will I be?’ I was hoping for a domino and an evening gown, if only to experience a Regency masked ball for a few moments.
‘In the carriage outside with Garrick.’ I couldn’t fault Lucian for practicality. I tried not to sigh audibly.
‘You are coming too?’ James looked from his brother to me and then back.
‘Of course I am.’
‘If you can work out how to stop Cassie doing what she wants, when she wants, how she wants, then I suggest you try. I have given up.’ Had he? I wasn’t so certain and I rather suspected that Lucian knew how to pick his battles.
We went in a town coach with Lucian’s coat of arms on the doors. Garrick, who was driving, dropped the brothers off, jostling for position with the mass of other vehicles all delivering their passengers. I could hear laughter and music and see the glow of lights, but that was as close as I got. I stayed inside in the darkest corner, a black cloak over my own clothes which were fortunately dark grey. I wasn’t prepared to offer up the cashmere outfit for dying and I could imagine Lucian’s response if I suggested Garrick alter some of his clothes to fit me. I was wearing my black trainers too.
James had boggled at the sight of me in trousers. ‘Is that normal when you come from?’ he asked, prowling round for a good look.
‘Oh yes, perfectly. The Prime Minister, who is a woman, wears them, although not casual ones like these.’ That silenced him.
Garrick drove off and round a corner into a deserted street and I was still smiling about James’s reaction when the two of them reappeared, sinister and dashing in black velvet masks. Garrick fixed blank panels over the coats of arms and opened the door to hand me a mask. ‘I thought it best if we all had them in case someone gets a glimpse while we’re inside, Miss Lawrence.’
‘You are staying outside,’ Lucian told him. ‘Unmasked. If the worst happens at least you are only acting under orders, driving me around and waiting for me while I visit a friend.’
‘Isn’t it rather peculiar to use your valet as a coachman?’ I asked. ‘And wouldn’t Garrick be under suspicion anyway – surely you don’t often take out an unmarked carriage like this?’
‘There’s no end to the strange starts of the Quality,’ Lucian remarked.
‘Quite, my lord.’ Garrick’s tone verged on the satirical. ‘I suggest you walk from here.’ The men dropped their quizzing glasses, rings and stickpins into a bag and peeled off their close-fitting evening tailcoats before shrugging into looser riding coats.
‘What is the plan?’ James asked as we walked down the street. It was almost deserted, although candles illuminated many of the windows and lamps at the doorways threw pools of light that only made the darkness more intense.
‘We will wait until the servants are all comfortable in the kitchen, let ourselves in through the service door and upstairs to the attics and main bedchamber floor – search those before they start to turn in,’ Lucian said as we turned into the alleyway leading to the mews at the back. ‘Then downstairs and search that and the cellars.’
When we reached the garden door there was a whispered argument about who was to climb over. I wasn’t sure whether the disagreement was a man-thing or a brother-thing, but eventually Lucian gave James a leg up and he swarmed over the wall. There was a faint thump, then the scrape of the bar being lifted and the gate swung open. ‘I have propped it up here. When we leave I will drop it into place and climb back.’
There was a faint glow of light from the basement windows, but the rest of the house was in darkness, I suppose from a mixture of economy and the fire risk. We padded along the garden path and down into the sunken area.
There was a yowl and a black blur erupted under Lucian’s feet sending him backwards into James who grabbed at me. The three of us ended up in a tangle on the steps with me underneath, adding to the bruises I’d already got from my arrival that first night. No-one moved, we were all holding our breath, I suspect.
‘Ow,’ I muttered when it was clear that no-one inside had heard anything. The men picked themselves up and pulled me to my feet and we crept up to the door.
James leaned in close to Lucian. ‘I have the most appalling urge to laugh.’ I knew how he felt, this was a hideous combination of farce and nightmare.
The key slid into the lock and turned with a click that sounded like a hammer-blow. Still there was no reaction from inside and when we got the door open we could hear why – with the master away the staff were enjoying themselves. Someone had a tin whistle, they were singing and, from the general sound level, I guessed they’d already made some inroads into Lord Cottingham’s wine cellar.
Lucian led the way in and I closed the door behind us. The stairs up were to our right and we didn’t have to pass the kitchen door to reach them. ‘Wait on the stairs,’ he whispered. ‘I will try the cellar now, it will save hanging about later.’
James and I climbed three steps up while Lucian moved silently to the cellar door, opened it and went inside, taking one of the tallow candles from the spikes on the wall.
The door had hardly closed behind him when the volume of noise suddenly increased and light spilled across the passageway. James grabbed me, yanked me hard against his body, and flattened himself against the stair wall.
‘I’ll get another bottle and some porter while I’m about it.’ It was one of the footmen, Foxy, I thought, but with one ear pressed against James’s chest and his hand clamped around my head, I couldn’t hear a great deal except for the admirably even beat of his heart.
The door opened, then there were the sounds of footsteps descending. The man had not noticed the missing candle, it seemed.
‘What can we do?’ I whispered.
‘Nothing.’ James’s lips were right by my ear. ‘Luc must have heard and doused the light before the door was properly open. We will just have to pray there is somewhere to hide down there.’
Foxy had obviously found what he wanted quickly enough, because he was back and through to the kitchen within a few minutes.
‘What about the light? Lucian will be in the dark?’
‘He will have a striker and tinder box in his pocket.’
We waited. I distracted myself from worrying by wishing I was crushed in Lucian’s arms, not James’s, and being thankful for modern matches, torches and light switches. Imagine being in the pitch dark and trying to strike a spark to light a wick you couldn’t even see.
What if Lucian was trapped down there?
Chapter Nine
Lucian emerged from the cellar after fifteen endless minutes. He had cobwebs in his hair and grey dusty smears on his black breeches and I breathed for the first time since Foxy had appeared, or so it seemed.
He stuck the candle back on its spike and joined us on the stairs. Without a word we tiptoed up the uncarpeted wooden treads and arrived in the hallway. ‘Keep going up,’ Lucian whispered.
It was easier the higher we went. There was carpet on the stairs and Lucian took a candlestick from a side table as we passed and struck a light. At the attic level he lit another stuck in a crooked tin. ‘Tallow candles up here. They might notice the difference in smell if we burn wax.’ The man had a talent for detail apparently. ‘Look for locked doors, boarded up openings, scrape marks on the floor, anything that seems out of place. The cellar was clear unless someone has been to remarkable trouble to construct false brick walls. There were no scuff marks on the ground, no signs of disturbance to the floor or walls.’
We split up, each taking a candle. I went towards the back and found a door leading into a tiny vestibule with two rooms off it, each containing two beds. These were the maids’ chambers, by the look of it. I searched rapidly, but they had such few possessions that it was easy and the walls showed no sign of any spaces behind them.
I left and the men joined me, both shaking their heads. ‘Nothing.’ Lucian pinched out the candles with care so there was no lingering smell and put them back.
The next floor took longer. Th
ree bedchambers, three dressing rooms and a linen cupboard all yielded nothing. Every door was unlocked and none of us could see anything untoward. On the other hand, I hadn’t expected to find anything on this floor, or on the main floor below, it was too public. We had to be careful on that level, now we were above the heads of the servants, but the noise was loud enough to cover me cautiously searching the dining room while James took the drawing room.
We met at the door of the study and went in to find Lucian looking through the desk. ‘Nothing,’ he murmured, ‘except proof that he is on good terms with de Forrest. There is a fair amount of correspondence, mostly social. A little business about the sale of a horse, a reference for a footman, that kind of thing.’
‘De Forrest is the impotent one, isn’t he?’
James gave a snort of laughter, but Lucian nodded. ‘As you might expect, there is no indication that Cottingham is encouraging a courtship or that de Forrest has suggested one. They seem to have a scheme of some kind running, but it is probably a mutual investment from the way it is worded.’
He pointed at a short note and I read over his shoulder. We are agreed, then. I believe this to be in our mutual interests. The outlay required is small, the returns significant and the risk low. de F.
‘It would be incomprehensible, frankly, for Cottingham to encourage a match with Arabella,’ Lucian added. ‘I know it is an old title, but the man has got no money to speak of – ’
‘And nothing in bed,’ James finished.
Lucian passed a note to James who read it and handed it to me. It was another message from de Forrest: The draperies are finished and, I must say, are most effective. The pomade is French Fern from Whittaker and Hope in the Strand. I am etc etc…
‘Bizarre.’
‘He is certainly not skilled at composition – these look almost like random jottings relating back to some earlier discussion. The reference to draperies is most peculiar. He could be intending to refurbish a room, I suppose, although why he would expect Cottingham to be interested escapes me, but why add details about a pomade in the same paragraph?’ Lucian shrugged. ‘There is nothing to link it to Arabella in any case.’ He refolded the paper and slid it back into a pigeonhole in the desk. ‘The fact that de Forrest calls and pays Miss Trenton certain attentions is probably simply because he thinks it will please his friend.’