Lord Kane's Keepsake

by Sandra Heath

  “Your father will learn nothing from me, Miss Rutherford.”

  “I … I don’t want you to think that my brother and I are much given to deceiving my father, Lord Kane, for truly we are not.”

  He smiled a little. “I’m sure you are not, Miss Rutherford.”

  At that moment they heard the tap-tap of a walking stick approaching the doors, and Gerald rose swiftly to his feet as Mr. Rutherford entered. He had changed out of his traveling clothes and now wore his favorite gray coat, with no less than two warm woolen shawls around his shoulders. There was a tasseled cap on his gray hair, and his feet made no sound because he had forsaken his boots for silk slippers.

  Gerald bowed to him. “I am sorry to have called without warning, sir.”

  Emma’s father waved him to sit down again. “Think nothing of it, my lord, for it is an honor to see you,’’ he said, his walking stick tapping as he went to sit down next to Emma on the sofa.

  He had hardly taken his place when Saunders entered, accompanied by a footman carrying a silver tray. For a few minutes the silence was broken only by the polite chink of fine porcelain cups and saucers, and then the servants withdrew again.

  Mr. Rutherford sipped his cup and then smiled approvingly. “I have to confess that although it is considered by some to be a poor beverage, very little refreshes me as well as a cup of good China tea.”

  Gerald’s cup and saucer remained untouched on the little table by his chair. “Miss Rutherford was telling me that the journey tired you, sir,” he said politely.

  “Tired me? My dear sir, it exhausted me. I abhor traveling at the best of times, but when autumn takes it into its head to arrive early in September, I have to admit that every mile on the open road is torture. However, I shall remain cozily inside for the next week, and then I will be able to sally forth safely again.’’

  “I was hoping that you would be able to accept an invitation for tomorrow evening.”

  “Tomorrow evening? Oh, my dear sir, I would much rather not,” said Mr. Rutherford, putting his cup and saucer down quickly. “The last thing I wish to do is run the risk of my health keeping me from the betrothal ball next month, and that is indeed what might happen if I do not take every possible precaution now.”

  “I quite understand, sir.”

  “What was the invitation?”

  “It is for you, your son, Miss Rutherford, and myself to join Lord and Lady Castlereagh in their box for the opening performance at the new Covent Garden theater. It promises to be an enjoyable occasion, with Madame Catalini singing, and Mrs. Siddons and her brother Mr. Kemble playing in Macbeth. “

  Mr. Rutherford gave a wistful sigh. “Catalini? Oh, if only you knew how much I’d enjoy to hear that paragon sing, but I fear I must be firm and stand by my resolve. However, I see no reason at all why my son and daughter should not attend.”

  “I am delighted that you should take that view, sir, for it is an occasion which I feel will be perfect for Miss Rutherford’s first London engagement. We are all also invited to an assembly at Manchester House on Friday, again in Lord and Lady Castlereagh’s party, but it will be much more of an ordeal because it promises to be a considerable crush, and I gather that Prinny himself might be present.”

  “The Prince of Wales? Upon my soul,” murmured Mr. Rutherford, quickly sipping his tea.

  “Perhaps Miss Rutherford and her brother will be able to attend then as well?” suggested Gerald tentatively.

  “Oh, yes, yes, of course,” replied Mr. Rutherford without hesitation. “My dear Lord Kane, if my son and daughter had to remain at home on account of my indifferent health, I fear they would never set foot outside at all.” He smiled warmly. “They will be delighted to accept both invitations.”

  Emma sat forward a little awkwardly. “Father, it may be that Stephen has prior engagements,” she pointed out.

  “Eh? Oh, yes, I suppose that may indeed prove the case,” he conceded. “I hadn’t thought of that.”

  “If I may make a suggestion?” said Gerald. “If it should be that Miss Rutherford is the only one who can come, then I will approach Lady Castlereagh to act as her chaperone. I am sure that that would satisfy propriety, and that Miss Rutherford will find Lady Castlereagh’s company very congenial indeed.”

  Mr. Rutherford nodded approvingly. “Yes, that is perfectly in order, Lord Kane. Tell me, are you very well acquainted with Lord Castlereagh?”

  “I have the honor to name him among my close friends, sir.’’

  “I think him a very stout fellow, and his politics are much to my liking,” said Mr. Rutherford.

  “Then we are in agreement, sir,” Gerald replied, smiling.

  Emma kept her eyes lowered to her cup. Lord Castlereagh was the war secretary in the government, and a very prominent man indeed. To be in his party at the theater was a daunting prospect in itself, but the further prospect of attending an assembly at which the Prince of Wales himself might be present filled her with alarm. Oh, how far away now the peace and tranquility of Foxley Hall and the Dorset countryside.

  Mr. Rutherford studied Gerald. “Lord Kane, I may just have arrived from the sticks, but rumor does occasionally reach Dorchester, and I have heard an unfortunate whisper or two that all is not well concerning Lord Castlereagh’s position in the government. Is there any foundation in this?”

  Gerald seemed totally nonplussed, staring at him in silence for a moment. “What have you heard, sir?” he asked at last.

  “Oh, it was just a snippet at a dinner with my fellow magistrates, concerning the machinations of the foreign secretary, Mr. Canning. There appears to be a suggestion that Mr. Canning, who is a mountebank of the first order, wishes to have Lord Castlereagh removed from office for incompetence, and that endeavors to this end have been secretly in progress for the past six months or so, unknown to Lord Castlereagh himself.”

  Gerald remained nonplussed for a moment, but then gave a wry smile. “You heard this in Dorchester, Mr. Rutherford?”

  “Indeed so.”

  “So much for close-guarded secrets in high places,” murmured Gerald dryly.

  “It is true, then?”

  “I fear so, although I myself only heard it today. It seems that the foreign secretary has indeed been trying to have Lord Castlereagh sacked from office for mishandling the war effort, and that he has been threatening to resign unless this is done. The prime minister and the rest of the government are in turmoil over it all, and no one wishes to be the one to inform Lord Castlereagh of the situation. In my opinion he is being treated very shabbily indeed, if not dishonorably, and it is up to the prime minister himself to do the right thing and inform him of Canning’s mischief.

  “I find myself in an intolerable quandary now that it has come to my notice, for I have no wish to see a good friend treated this way, being allowed to continue in office when all the time plans are afoot to remove him, but at the same time I do not wish to precipitate a crisis in the government by telling him something which should come from the prime minister and the rest of the cabinet. I have therefore requested a meeting with the prime minister in the next day or so, at which I will ask him to rectify the situation or I will have no option but to inform Lord Castlereagh myself. It’s a distasteful situation, and one for which I will never forgive Canning.”

  Mr. Rutherford exhaled slowly. “I do not envy you, my lord, but I have to say that I am amazed that news of this should circulate in Dorchester before even you had heard it.”

  “As I said, so much for close-guarded secrets in high places. I feel very badly for Lord Castlereagh, who in no way deserves what is happening. He is far from incompetent and cannot be blamed for the recent setbacks against Bonaparte and the French. The war swings like a pendulum, one moment going our way, the next the enemy’s. I fear that I see Canning’s overweening ambition shining through in all this. The prime minister’s ill health and coming resignation on account of it has given the foreign secretary an opportunity to further himself, and th
is is the despicable way he’s chosen to rid himself of his most formidable rival.”

  Gerald smiled apologetically and then rose to his feet. “I think it is time that I took my leave, for you must wish to relax a little after your journey. Again I must beg your forgiveness for calling at such an inopportune moment, but I thought it best to approach you without delay on the matter of the invitations. I am pleased that Miss Rutherford will be able to accept both, for I am sure that the evening at the theater will be the very thing to introduce her to what lies ahead, and that after that she will find the Manchester House assembly by no means the ordeal it might otherwise have been. No, sir, please do not get up, for I am quite capable of finding my own way out,” he added quickly as Mr. Rutherford made to rise from the sofa.

  Emma put her cup and saucer aside and got up. I will show Lord Kane to the door, Father,” she said, resting a gentle hand briefly on her father’s shoulder.

  He sat back thankfully. “Would you, my dear? Thank you so much.”

  Gerald offered her his arm once more, and they left the drawing room. At the top of the staircase he paused, turning to face her. “Miss Rutherford, I have been thinking about what you said earlier, concerning your brother’s unsuitable friendship with Lord Avenley. If it would be of any assistance, I am quite willing to speak to Stephen about it.”

  “Would you? I mean to reason with him myself, of course, but if I am not successful, then I would be very grateful for your help.”

  “You have only to say the word.” He hesitated, looking seriously into her eyes. “Miss Rutherford, I cannot overemphasize that Avenley is everything that is undesirable, for he is without a doubt the most disreputable man in London. He is entirely governed by self-interest, and is both ruthless and without conscience. You may be sure that he has an ulterior motive in cultivating your brother, and that that motive has nothing to do with friendship or kindness.”

  Emma stared at him. “But what ulterior motive could there possibly be?”

  The ghost of a smile played on his lips. “Who can say, Miss Rutherford, who can say?” he murmured, again offering her his arm.

  After a moment she accepted, and they proceeded down the hall, where Saunders was waiting with Gerald’s greatcoat. With the coat around his shoulders, Gerald took his hat, gloves, and cane and then turned to Emma for a last time.

  “Until tomorrow evening, Miss Rutherford.”

  “Until tomorrow evening, Lord Kane.”

  “If by any chance your brother cannot accompany you, please send word to me, and I will enlist Lady Castlereagh’s assistance as chaperone.”

  “I will.”

  He drew her hand to his lips. “Good night, Miss Rutherford.”

  “Good night, Lord Kane.”

  She watched him go out to his waiting curricle and drive away, and as the door closed she thought how very formal and correct they had been. They were complete strangers, and yet they were to be man and wife.

  She closed her eyes for a moment, and then turned to retrace her steps up the staircase. She paused at the top, where he had paused a few minutes before to speak to her about Lord Avenley. What had he meant about an ulterior motive? He had had something specific in mind, of that she was quite certain. But what could it be?

  Of what possible interest could Stephen Rutherford be to a man like Lord Avenley? She wished she knew, for she found the whole business very troubling indeed. Oh, plague take her feckless brother for becoming involved with such a dangerous and unpleasant man! She intended to give Stephen a sharp piece of her mind when she saw him, there was no mistake about that.

  Chapter Four

  Dinner was soon to be served, but Stephen had yet to return. Both Emma and her father were ready and waiting, and in the kitchen the cook grumbled as the fine piece of roast beef had to be kept, becoming less and less deliciously pink in the middle with each passing minute.

  Mr. Rutherford decided to wait another half-hour, and no more, and in the meantime amused himself by adjourning to the library on the ground floor, where he browsed quite happily through the late Lord Bagworth’s considerable collection of books on the Orient, and swiftly became so engrossed that thoughts of dinner actually began to recede.

  Emma joined him for a while, but the library was at the rear of the house, affording no view of the comings and goings in the square, and after a short time she crossed the hall to the morning room, which looked out to the front. It was a pretty blue-and-white-striped room containing a large sideboard and the circular table where it was the custom to take breakfast. The chandelier had not been lit, and so the only light came from the fire that flickered in the pink marble hearth. A second door gave onto the narrow passage to the kitchens, and in two alcoves there were shelves of shining silver-gilt plate that danced with the firelight.

  The royal-blue brocade curtains had been drawn across the single tall window, and Emma drew them aside to look out. For a moment her eyes were unaccustomed to the darkness, and she could see only her own reflection in the panes of glass. She wore a lime-green silk gown, low-necked with long, diaphanous sleeves, and there was a knotted white silk shawl resting over her arms. Her hair was immaculately combed and pinned into a knot on top of her head, and she still wore her mother’s pearl drop earrings.

  Gradually her eyes became used to the dim light, and she found that she could look past the reflection to the lamplit square beyond. There were stars in the velvety sky, and lights burning in most of the houses. Several carriages drove past, their lamps casting pale arcs over the cobbles, but of Stephen there was still no sign.

  Where was he? If he was still with Lord Avenley, she could only pray that he wasn’t seated at a green baize table with a hand of cards. This really was too bad of him, for he knew full well the punctual hour their father liked to keep for dinner.

  Behind her the clock on the mantelpiece began to whir, and then chimed. The roast beef would soon be done to a crisp, and no doubt fit only to sole boots. She scanned the darkened square again, and as she did so, another carriage approached. It was a gleaming town vehicle drawn by four dapple grays, and as it drew up at the curb she saw to her immense relief that her brother was preparing to alight. She turned from the window and drew the curtains across once more, watching through the open door as Saunders hastened across the hall to the front door.

  His greeting carried clearly. “Good evening, Mr. Rutherford,”

  “Good evening, Saunders,” Stephen replied, entering the inner hall and turning to give the butler his hat, gloves, and cane.

  Emma watched him closely, anxious for any sign that all was not well, but he seemed in excellent fettle, if a little pale from too many late nights. His looks were very youthful and boyish, but it was clear that soon he would become a handsome man. He wore a damson coat and gray breeches, and there was the sort of shine on his top boots with which he would never have been concerned at home in Foxley Hall.

  His neckcloth was tied in a very complicated and exaggerated style, and was adorned with such a large pin that it gave him an almost dandified appearance that was again very far indeed from the Stephen Rutherford she had known before. He had undergone a great change since coming to London, that much was quite clear, but she was doubtful it was for the better.

  Saunders placed his hat, gloves, and cane on the console table, ready for Jacob to retrieve in a few minutes, and then he bowed to Stephen. “Mr. and Miss Rutherford arrived some time ago, sir, and they have been awaiting your return in order to commence dinner.”

  “Oh, Lord, I completely forgot dinner! I say, you didn’t tell them where I was, did you?”

  Emma interrupted before the butler could reply. “No, he didn’t, Stephen, but I’ve found out anyway.”

  Stephen whirled guiltily around, staring at her shadowy figure in the morning-room doorway. “Emma!”

  Saunders beat a very prudent and hasty retreat, leaving brother and sister to face each other. Stephen glanced uneasily around, fearing that his father might also
have heard, but Emma shook her head, nodding toward the closed door of the library, where their father’s poor hearing and absorption in Lord Bagworth’s excellent collection of books would have kept him in ignorance of his son’s return.

  Stephen crossed the hall swiftly, drawing her back into the morning room and then closing the door so that they were completely alone. “I don’t know what you think you know, Sis, but I promise you—”

  “I’ve learned that you’ve fallen in with a very bad lot, namely Lord Avenley,’’ she replied, the firelight flickering in her green eyes as she held his gaze.

  “You mustn’t pay any attention to what’s said of Avenley, Emma, for he’s a splendid fellow and could not have been more friendly and agreeable toward me since my arrival.”

  “A splendid fellow? Friendly and agreeable? That isn’t what I’ve heard about him.”

  “As I said, you mustn’t pay attention to rumor, for in Avenley’s case it’s all false.”

  “Forgive me if I choose to reserve judgment,” she said, Gerald’s warnings echoing in her ears.

  “I suppose Dolly Makepeace has been whispering to you, has she?”

  “Does it matter how I know?”

  He hesitated. “It matters what Father knows.”

  “If you are afraid that he’s been regaled with your flagrant disregard for his wishes, then you may rest assured that he hasn’t, at least, not as yet.”

  “You mean to tell him?”

  She drew back angrily. “It would be no more than you deserve, sirrah! You know full well that you are not supposed to go anywhere near gaming tables, and yet you’ve been visiting Lord Avenley’s private club almost every night, and apparently sometimes during the day as well.”

  “Keep your voice down,” he pleaded, glancing uneasily toward the door.