‘Cordelia.’ He injected a wealth of serious intent in that one word.
She frowned. ‘What is it?’
‘There is something you need to know about our host. We need to talk in private. Meet me in that room at the far end of the terrace.’ He pointed to it. ‘You go first. I shall follow in a few minutes.’
‘Lord Boyton...you are not intent on compromising me, are you?’
‘No. Please trust me on that. But I am intent on saving you and your father from a huge mistake.’
Five minutes later, Vernon slipped into the sitting room and closed the door behind him. Cordelia waited by the fireplace, her hands clasped before her. Vernon crossed the room to her and began to talk. He did not mince his words, but told her everything he knew, including how Mannington had jilted Thea. The only secret he kept was that Theo was Dorothea Markham. The colour slowly leached from Cordelia’s face as he spoke and, when he finally told her that the man who had drowned was Daniel Markham and that his murderer was Henry Mannington, she swayed, one hand to her mouth, eyes stricken.
‘Oh, my goodness,’ she whispered. ‘I cannot believe...’
Vernon clasped her upper arms, supporting her, and she leaned into him. He folded his arms around her.
‘I am sorry,’ he said. ‘It is a harsh tale to tell, but I can no longer stand by and see you and your father taken in by such a villain.’
* * *
Despite the risk of being seen, Thea could not resist the urge to see for herself what was happening at the house party. She hugged close to the house wall, following the murmur of conversation until she reached the corner. She could see several knots of people gathered on a terrace, glasses in hand as they chatted and laughed. She scanned the people, but could not see Vernon’s tall figure and chestnut hair amongst them. Neither, she realised with a jolt of annoyance, could she see Miss Cordelia Temple. The few women present were middle-aged matrons. She risked poking her head around the corner of the house and there he was, with Cordelia as Henry Mannington—and this was the first time she had seen him so clearly since discovering he was still alive—strode from them to join a group of men, including Samuel Temple. Although Henry’s—Jasper’s—expression was agreeable, his stiff gait signalled his displeasure. Either Vernon or Cordelia had angered him and Thea would bet on the former being responsible.
Vernon stood close to Cordelia, their faces serious as they spoke. Then Cordelia disappeared inside the house and Vernon stood, idly contemplating the view from the terrace as he sipped his wine. Thea ducked back behind the corner, seeking Mannington amongst the groups on the terrace. Good, he hadn’t noticed her and was still deep in discussion with Samuel Temple and a couple of others. She watched him, noticing as he grew increasingly uneasy, glancing several times back towards the house, to where Vernon stood. Eventually, Thea took a chance and peeped around the corner again. Vernon had disappeared.
Where is he?
He had not crossed the terrace to mingle with the other guests, which meant...
He has followed Cordelia!
She tried to persuade herself that Vernon—as he had said he would—was searching for evidence against Mannington. But then where was Cordelia? And all her old insecurities and distrust reared up to mock her for daring to wonder if Vernon might truly care for her.
She withdrew once more around the corner, her insides in turmoil, and she made her way back along the house wall. At the first window some sixth sense made her hesitate, even though the room had been empty when she passed it earlier. Cautiously, she peered around the edge of the window frame—and bit back a gasp, her heart plummeting, bruised and sore.
Cordelia was in Vernon’s arms, her head on his shoulder. Tenderness shone in his expression as he held her. Thea’s throat tightened with misery. Only last night, he had made love to her. He had given her pleasure—such intimate pleasure that she blushed to even think of it. And now he was making love to Cordelia.
Had he imagined Cordelia in his arms last night and wished it was her?
Once a fool, always a fool!
Not content with allowing herself to be deceived by Jasper Connor, she had gone and fallen in love with the most unsuitable man she could ever imagine. A rake. An aristocrat who—if he ever chose to wed—would choose either a high-born lady so as not to dilute his blue blood, or a woman with a fortune to add to his wealth and his consequence.
Neither of which I am. How could I be so stupid?
Tears smarted in her eyes and stung her nose.
I will not stay here. I cannot face him, ever again. I will go home, devote myself to Mama and Papa and we will mourn Daniel together. I will spend my life atoning for the misery I’ve brought to my family.
But she remained, despite her avowals, her gaze riveted to the couple in the room, misery coursing through her. Then a movement caught her eye. The door was easing open and Henry Mannington slipped into the room, behind Vernon’s back and, before Thea realised his intention, he had crossed the room and grabbed Vernon’s shoulder, hauling him away from Cordelia and around to bring them face to face.
His voice was a muffled roar as he drew back his fist. Thea gasped, but then sighed with relief as Vernon blocked his punch with almost leisurely ease.
She could see him reply to Mannington, his hands raised, palms facing his furious host. But if he intended to placate the other man, he failed, for Mannington once again let loose with a wild punch. Vernon, in an almost contemptuous gesture, shoved Mannington aside, then turned to Cordelia, whose eyes were round with shock above her hand-covered mouth. Mannington, however, reached into his sleeve and withdrew a wicked-looking, thin-bladed knife. Cordelia screamed and Vernon spun on his heel to face the threat.
Thea waited no longer. She delved into her pocket as she sped around the corner of the house and on to the terrace, where the first French window also led into that sitting room.
Let it be unlocked.
The gods were on her side and she wrenched it open and charged inside, holding her pistol aloft. She skidded to a halt, six feet away from where Vernon faced Mannington, who was crouched slightly, knife in hand.
Vernon glanced at Thea and sighed. ‘Dotty... I do not need rescuing.’
‘But—’
‘Dotty?’ Cordelia looked from Thea to Vernon and back again. ‘Who...? Are you...? Do you mean...?’
‘Thea?’
Holding Mannington’s horrified gaze, Thea reached up and pulled her cap from her head. In that same instant Vernon pivoted on the ball of one foot and let loose a well-aimed kick at the knife, which flew from Mannington’s grasp. Vernon then grabbed the other man’s lapels, pulled him around to face him, drew back his fist and let fly at Mannington’s jaw. Mannington spun around with the force of the punch and collapsed on to a side table that held a collection of porcelain figurines, knocking the entire display over as he fell to the floor. There was an almighty crash and Thea allowed herself a moment to savour the sweet taste of revenge before bleak reality shrouded her again.
Daniel was still dead and Cordelia had been in Vernon’s arms.
She was vaguely aware of the sound of running footsteps and raised voices from the hall. Then the door crashed wide, wrenching her gaze from the prostrate form of Daniel’s killer.
‘Thea!’
The roar rocked the room.
The world seemed to tilt on its axis.
Then she realised—dimly and from a distance—that it was she who was tilting as her legs gave way and she crumpled to the floor.
* * *
The man who filled the doorway occupied Vernon’s attention for less than a second. He recognised him, vaguely, but his focus was on Thea. Was she all right? He fell to his knees beside her and snatched the pistol from her senseless fingers. He held it out in Cordelia’s direction.
‘Take it
,’ he bit out, without looking at her. ‘Use it if he—’ he indicated the newcomer with a flick of his head ‘—causes trouble.’
As soon as she took the gun, he turned back to Thea, leaning over her as he checked her over, making sure...
She’s breathing. She’s only passed out. She—
‘Why, you—! Get your filthy hands off my sister!’
Sister?
Slowly, Vernon straightened and turned his head to look properly at the newcomer. From the corner of his eye he could see Cordelia, pistol gripped in both hands, pointing it unwaveringly in the direction of the man. He pictured the portrait Thea had shown him. The portrait of Daniel Markham.
So that is why he’s familiar.
Vernon stood up, then bent and scooped Thea into his arms.
‘I’m warning you, mister...’
He settled her gently on a sofa before turning to face Daniel and thrusting out his hand.
‘Beauchamp,’ he said.
Daniel ignored it. ‘Beauchamp? Another one claiming kinship to the Duke?’ A sneer twisted his mouth.
‘As it happens,’ a smooth, familiar voice interposed, ‘that particular claim is not without foundation.’
A tall figure—this time very familiar—had appeared in the open doorway.
A laugh gathered, deep down, swelling Vernon’s chest and filling his throat. Trust Leo. Always there at the opportune moment. His brother, suave and assured as ever, sauntered into the room. He took in the prostrate form of Mannington and then the gently stirring form of Thea. His brows rose and he met Vernon’s gaze, a quizzical gleam lighting his silvery-grey eyes, and as swiftly as that bubble of laughter had risen, it subsided.
Vernon held Leo’s stare, daring him to take control. Leo’s eyes narrowed slightly, then his lips quirked and he wandered over to the window, hitching one hip on to the sill. The slightest of hand gestures confirmed the stage belonged to Vernon.
‘Lord Vernon Beauchamp,’ Vernon said to Daniel. ‘Brother to the Duke. And you are Daniel Markham.’ He gestured at Thea. ‘We thought you dead. Your sister has been distraught. How the hell could you be so insensitive, and put her through such needless agony?’
Daniel stepped closer, almost toe to toe with Vernon, and thrust his chin forward belligerently. ‘I was protecting her,’ he growled. ‘Unlike you. How the hell could you be so irresponsible as to allow her to jaunt around the country dressed like...like that?’
Vernon stood his ground, ready to deal with him if the other man became physical, but otherwise careful to make no move that might set that particular fuse alight. Fighting with his future brother-in-law was not wise.
‘Have you ever,’ he said, ‘attempted to stop your sister doing anything she set her mind to?’
Their gazes held. Then Daniel blinked and his glare softened. He stepped back and lifted his arms sideways in a hopeless gesture.
‘Why do you think I didn’t tell her what I’d seen?’ he said, through gritted teeth. ‘When I knew I would be away from home for a while I wrote to Mama, but I swore her to secrecy. She was supposed to tell Thea I was visiting friends so she wouldn’t worry. What do you imagine Thea’s reaction would be if she found out that bas—he—’ he gestured at Mannington, still prone on the floor ‘—was still alive? Do you think she would sit quietly at home and leave me to bring him to justice? Hah!
‘And you...’ this directed at Cordelia ‘...whoever you are, will you please put that da—blasted gun down?’
Cordelia glanced at Vernon, who nodded. Daniel scowled, then paced across the room and back again.
‘You will have to marry her,’ he said. ‘I shall accept no less.’
Behind Daniel, Vernon saw Leo suppress a grin, stoking his irritation.
‘I know my obligations,’ he said. ‘Of course I will marry her. I would not see your sister suffer.’
‘And do I get a say in all of this?’
Vernon turned. Thea was on her feet, fists on her hips, her curls in a wild halo around her head: a hissing, spitting, fluffed-up kitten.
Chapter Twenty-Three
‘First of all—’ Thea strode to Daniel and poked him in the chest ‘—no letter from you arrived. I thought you dead. And second—’ she whirled to face Vernon ‘—I, and only I, will make the decision about if, when and who I will marry. And...and...’ All her fight appeared to drain away. She sucked in a long, juddering breath, her eyes huge, haunted. ‘What happened?’
A sob exploded from her, followed by another. Vernon wrapped his arms around her and gathered her to him. ‘Shh...’ He half-carried her back to the sofa and sat with her tucked close to his side, his arm around her. Mannington, at his feet, was beginning to stir.
‘Markham,’ he said. ‘Cover him with the pistol, will you? This scoundrel—whatever his real name is—has a lot of questions to answer before he goes off to jail.’
Cordelia handed the gun to Daniel, then looked around.
‘I suggest you come over here and sit with me in the audience,’ Leo said, patting the sill next to him. ‘This promises to be most entertaining.’ He raised an innocent brow in response to Vernon’s glare.
‘Who is that?’ Thea whispered to Vernon as Cordelia did as she was bid. ‘I saw him at the Crown.’
‘My brother.’
‘The Duke?’
She wriggled away from him, leaving at least six inches of empty sofa between them. Vernon frowned. He wanted her close to him. Touching him. So he knew she was safe, beyond all doubt. But maybe this was not the time and place to explain how things would be in the future. Once this charade was played out, however, he would tell her in no uncertain terms. She was his. And they would be married.
‘One fact I have established,’ Daniel said, ‘is that his name is definitely Jasper Connor.’ He nudged the man with his toe.
Jasper groaned, his hand going to his jaw. ‘It’s broken. You’ve broken it!’
‘Good,’ Daniel said. ‘You deserve worse. Far worse. And I have no doubt you’ll get it.’
Jasper rolled on to his side and pushed himself into a sitting position.
‘You can’t prove a thing,’ he spat, speaking remarkably well for a man with a broken jaw.
‘We can prove enough. We have witnesses.’
‘What witnesses?’
‘You’ll see. Watch him, will you?’
Daniel went to pass the gun to Vernon, who rose to his feet and waved the gun away.
‘I don’t need that.’ He formed a fist with his right hand and smacked it into his left palm. Jasper winced.
Daniel left the room and soon returned with four people—two men and two women—two of whom were strangers and two of whom Vernon recognised: Horwell’s niece, Annie, and the Gipsy he had seen at the camp. A gasp burst from Jasper and then the second woman was flying across the room, fingers crooked into claws as she launched herself at Jasper Connor.
‘You devil, you! How could you do it? Abandon me and our children?’ She raked his face with her nails, drawing blood, as he tried, unsuccessfully, to fend her off.
The older of the two men rushed to her and pulled her away. ‘Now, now, Gladys. This will get us nowhere. Allow the law to deal with him. I’m sure they’ll not see you and the children penniless.’ She turned into his chest, sobbing.
Vernon stared at Daniel. ‘Children? Are they...? Is she...?’
‘His wife. Yes. And this is her father, Mr Morgan. He is a merchant in the town of Aberystwyth, on the Welsh coast.’
A whimper sounded from the sofa behind him. Vernon sat down again and put his arm around Thea. She shrugged him off and stood up.
‘How did you find them, Daniel?’ Thea planted herself in front of her brother, hands again on her hips. ‘How did you know he was married?’
‘I
didn’t know it. Look, let us sit down and I will tell you what happened.’
Thea ignored the space next to Vernon and marched over to an armchair and flung herself into it, crossing her arms. ‘Go on.’
‘First, allow me to introduce Annie Horwell, who works here as a maid, and Absalom Gray, the Romani who saved my life by hauling me from the river after I fell in.’
‘So you did fall,’ Vernon said. ‘You were not pushed?’
‘Not pushed, but I had little choice. It was either the river, or his knife,’ Daniel said bitterly. ‘I had crossed over the bridge from the city when I saw him riding towards me. I hauled him off his horse and we fought. I had the upper hand, too. I intended to take him back home and press charges against him. But he broke away and ran to the riverbank. I chased after him and grabbed him and then he pulled the knife. I released him, thinking he would run again, but he did not. He came at me. I had the river at my back and no time to get my pistol from my pocket. I went in deliberately.’
‘We were told the current was ferocious that day.’
‘It was. More powerful than I could ever believe. And so fast. It tossed me about as it pleased and I could do nothing but try to keep catching my breath every chance I got.’ He shuddered. ‘Then I surfaced and I found myself in a sort of whirlpool, close to the bank. And, thank God, Absalom had seen me and stretched out a branch. I caught hold just when I thought I could fight it no longer and would be sucked under for good. He managed to pull me on to the bank.’
Daniel smiled at Absalom who stood to one side, watching. He acknowledged Daniel’s smile with the slightest of nods. Thea leapt from her chair and went to Daniel, hugging him.
Scandal and Miss Markham Page 23