by Sherry Gloag
“You would do well not to repeat gossip you cannot verify.” Vidal stepped forward and leaned down to gain Lady Randall’s attention.
Only the slight pallor in the gossip’s face revealed her unease before Augustus Reeve joined them. “Mother, will you let me take you into dinner?” He ignored her grace, sneered at Vidal and cast a deliberate glance in Honor’s direction.
The sound of Lady Randall’s chair scraping back covered Honor’s gasp. Augustus Reeve’s ice-blue eyes, cold and malevolent, propelled her back nearly four years to another ball, and another incident. Like now, that too was provoked by his mother, Lady Randall. She’d forced her son to make a public proposal to Honor and had been enraged when she’d refused to be bullied into accepting it.
And more recently, to the occupant of a coach which had almost run her down. But on that occasion someone bumped into her, pushing her into the path of the on-coming vehicle. A coincidence, surely?
“What is it child?”
The sound of her grace’s voice bounced her back to her surroundings.
“Nothing. It is nothing.” With a shake of her head she forced herself to dismiss the problem and focus on the present. After the trouble Vidal’s mother had gone to, escorting them about, she couldn’t afford the distraction of wondering whether the carriage accident was coincidence or not. The incident put a damper on the rest of the evening for her, and if she didn’t know better, changed people’s attitudes towards her.
Later, when Vidal took her arm to help her into the coach at the end of the night, she looked up in time to see the deep furrow between his eyes. “Is something wrong?”
“We have to talk. I will call on you tomorrow morning. Will eleven o’clock be convenient?”
“Of course.” She’d intended to purchase a gift for Vidal, but since she still couldn’t make up her mind what to get him, putting off the dilemma for one more day gave her extra time to cudgel her brain for something special he’d remember her by.
When Consuela and Juan’s arrival prevented any further comment, Honor stepped into the coach and made room for the Duchess and Consuela.
“Pay no attention to the woman,” her grace said when they arrived home, and towed both women toward the library.
* * * *
The smile Lord Sitwell gave them when they entered his sanctuary slid off his face when he saw the banked fury in his wife’s eyes.
“What?” He rose, rearranged the chairs and offered each of his visitors a glass of wine. “What has happened to put you in such a pet, my dear?”
“That odious woman came right up to me and repeated her foul innuendos about Honor. Can you believe it? The audacity! If Vidal hadn’t stopped me I’d have given her a piece of her mind.”
“Did anyone else hear what she said?”
Noticing Honor’s distress he leaned down and patted her shoulder. “It is difficult for you, my dear, I know, but hold on just a little while longer. Trust me, it will soon all be over.”
“Will it ever be over?” Honor leapt from her chair. “Cedric claimed he’d put it about I betrayed Devlin and sold information to the French. I didn’t believe him until Gervaise Dumas confirmed the truth of it.”
She looked at the others, noting Consuela’s indignation, the Duchess’s fury, and the Duke’s compassion.
“Every time we go out the whispers become louder, more intense. Not loud enough or direct enough for me to dispute them, but like fire, they burn beneath the surface waiting to explode.
“I thought, from something Vidal said, Dundas would call me in to give a true account of what really happened at Salamanca, but he has not. Does that mean they believe the lies and wait only for the New Year to lay charges against me? And if they believe me a spy why did they not arrest me as soon as I arrived back in England?”
“There were those who waited in Portsmouth, those who never intended for you to reach London and give an account of the truth. My son knew this and, with our blessing, took you to our country home. Do not ask for I cannot tell you more, but I appeal you to trust me, to trust my family. “
The duke waited for her to take in his words, search his wife’s face, and see knowledge there. He understood the fury that ripped through and shook her like a reed in a storm.
“I believe I am being played like a pawn, and I do not like it.” Honor’s shoulders went back, her mouth thinned and her eyes, normally so tranquil, turned black with rage. “I learn the man I loved and married was a spy and I am the one who is going to hang for his duplicity.”
Her words shocked the others in the room as much as himself, but the duke understood the emotion behind them and waited while Honor stood, her fists raised in a subconscious act of self-defence. She stepped up to him and leaned forward.
“You say you cannot, will not tell me more, but you owe me this. How much longer do I have to endure the whispers before I learn my fate?”
She swung away. “At least no one’s cut me dead. Yet!”
“What I don’t understand—“ the Duchess rose, caught Honor’s hand in hers and guided her to the sofa, “—is why the wretched woman approached me this evening and in so brazen a manner?”
“The other day,” Honor began, more quietly now, “while we were out shopping, someone in the crowd nudged me and if Consuela hadn’t caught my arm I’d have been hit by an oncoming coach in the road.”
“Yes! You are right.” Consuela’s astonishment and dismay stole the colour from her face. “I didn’t think about it at the time, there were so many people about, but it seemed to me the coach increased its speed up when you lost your balance.”
“Are you sure?” The Duke of Sitwell, his face grave, leaned forward.
Consuela shook her head. “The streets were so busy, and everything was so noisy, I cannot be sure.”
His lordship looked at Honor. “You are mentioning this, why?”
“I remember looking up at the coach. I couldn’t see clearly but I know the passenger, a man, had pale blue eyes that seemed to pierce right through me.”
“Did you recognise him?”
“At the time, no.” Honor shook her head.
Leaning one arm along the mantle, the duke rested a foot on the fender. “But now? Something has changed?”
Only the sigh of settling logs broke the silence.
“Tonight.” Honor now turned to the Duchess. “When Lady Randall’s son, Augustus Reeve, joined us, I recognised his eyes and the look in them was the same as the one that passenger gave me when Consuela pulled me clear of the carriage the other day.”
“You cannot delay any longer, Sitwell.” The duchess rose, and placed her hand on his arm. “You must act now, for it is my belief they intend to blacken Honor’s name publicly before the end of the year. I thought I imagined the change in the atmosphere tonight. After dinner, people, while they did not give us the brush direct, they most certainly failed to seek us out as they normally do.”
The duke rose, set his glass on a nearby table, and looked down at his wife. “I believe I better visit my son immediately. I’ll see you all in the morning.”
He’d reached the library door before Honor’s words penetrated.
“What’s that, you say?”
“Your son told me he intends to call here tomorrow morning at eleven o’clock, and asked me to be here when he arrived.”
“He did, did he?”
With a satisfied smirk, the Duke bade the ladies goodnight and left the room.
* * * *
“He is not here, your grace.” Vidal’s butler stepped back to allow the duke to enter, and took the gloves and coat handed to him.
“Do you expect him back anytime soon?”
“I couldn’t say, your grace.”
The man’s wooden countenance didn’t fool Vidal’s father. “Did he tell you where he’d be this evening?”
“No, your grace.” An emphatic shake of the head followed the butler’s words. “He mentioned something about the Admiralty.”
> Snatching up his gloves, his grace allowed the butler to ease him back into his coat. “If your master returns before I do, ask him to wait up for me.”
“Yes, your grace.”
How much had Dundas told his son, he wondered as he strode off in the direction of the Admiralty.
The fact he entered the building and reached Dundas’s office minutes later without any checks bothered him. Had Vidal and the First Lord moved on? And if so why had they left the door unsecured?
Carefully he pushed it open and stepped inside to find the room empty.
“Blast you Vidal, why aren’t you where you said you’d be?” In the act of retreating, the Duke stopped at the sound of his son’s voice.
“And how did you get into the building without setting off an alert?”
“Too easily, it would seem.” The duke slammed the door shut behind him. “Where’s Dundas?”
The door, when it opened again, almost knocked his grace off his feet.
“What are you doing here?” Dundas didn’t waste time on social niceties.
“I wanted to talk to Vidal and was told, when I went to his door, he might be here.”
“I thought better of you Vidal. We don’t need members of staff flapping their mouths off to all and sundry.”
“I agree with you Dundas.” Anger forbade Vidal to offer courtesy. “If my staff ‘flapped their mouths off,’ I’d sack them. When they answer my father’s question, I applaud them, for they are well aware my parents do not intrude upon my life unless it is for something crucial.”
Vidal stood, fetched a chair from across the office, and set it next to his own. “What brings you here?” he asked his father.
“You mother has just informed me of the confrontation with Reeve and Lady Randall this evening.” He looked at Dundas and saw he followed the conversation. “And Honor told me of an incident that happened to her a few days ago while she and Consuela were out shopping.” He repeated the event, drew his snuff box from his pocket, and flipped the lid open. “I don’t know what you make of it, Dundas, but I can’t help feeling they intend to accuse Lady Beaumont of treason at Kringle’s bash. What better place to do it than in front of the social elite? And according to my wife everyone who is anyone intends to be there. Can’t think why,” he added and accepted the brandy the First Lord of the Admiralty offered him.
“You’re going.” Dundas grinned.
“Of course I am! can’t get out of it — he’s my brother-in-law.”
“Of course, I’d forgotten.”
“But why now?” Dundas drummed his fingers on his desk top.
“Well.” Vidal’s smile was frigid. “You’re the one who mentioned the affair when Lady Randall forced her son to make a public declaration to Honor and had to watch the man’s equally public humiliation when she refused him. If my memory serves me, I believe it took place at another major ball or some similar event. If, as you also say, Lady Randall never forgets a grudge, she’d consider my uncle’s ball an ideal setting for retribution.”
“I do believe you’ve hit the nail on the head.” Dundas fisted his hand and gave a jubilant thump on his desk. “And Hepworth was their ‘insider’.”
“Hepworth?” The duke sat forward. “What’s Hepworth got to do with this?”
“It goes back a long way.” Lord Dumas rose, collected the decanter and refilled their glasses, then settled back in his chair.
“Several years ago, I forget exactly how many, Lady Randall had a French lover. If not for Lord Randall she’d have married the man. She was besotted with him—“
“Go on,” the Duke urged. “I vaguely remember the talk at the time. “Wasn’t there a duel or something?”
“Not precisely, but there was a challenge. The way the story goes, this Frenchman and Hepworth were visiting a casino and the Frenchman accused Hepworth of cheating.”
“Did he?” Vidal asked.
The duke’s contempt rang round the room. “It wouldn’t be the first time. And he’s never stopped doing so since.”
“You remember the story, do you?” Dundas addressed the duke.
“Remember it, I was there.”
“Really?” Vidal straightened in his chair. “What happened?”
The duke took up the tale. “Of course Hepworth denied it, and the Frenchman called for new dice and challenged Hepworth to prove his integrity. Word spread and people piled in from all the other rooms to witness the spectacle.”
“’What are the stakes?’ someone asked and Hepworth as quick as can be named Lady Randall— I tell you, you could have heard a pin drop, as my wife often says.”
“Go on,” Vidal urged.
“Everyone knew Hepworth pushed the other man into a position of no retreat that forced him to accept. He could do no other, as he’d made the accusation.
“By agreement they played for three hours. At first the Frenchman was winning, and winning handsomely, then slowly but steadily the fortunes shifted and Hepworth began to make headway. Then as quickly the luck changed again and the Frenchman almost cleared Hepworth out. We all thought the challenge over and many left. I nearly did myself,” the Duke admitted.
“Obviously lady luck was more than her usual fickle self that night,” Dundas said.
“Indeed, with minutes to spare Hepworth made a series of all-or-nothing calls, and won them all. As the clock chimed the third hour Hepworth’s final bid cleared out the Frenchman completely.”
“And what did Lady Randall say when she found out?” Dundas asked. “I don’t suppose we’ll ever know what her reaction was.”
“As it happens, Hepworth grabbed my arm and demanded I go with them as a witness. James Brimley came too. Do you remember him? He nearly died while fighting in Portugal in eighteen-o-nine,” the duke asked Dundas and without waiting for a response took up his tale again. “He was with me at the time, so he can vouchsafe this story. He disliked Hepworth as much as the rest of us and was looking forward to the fireworks.”
“Where was Randall while all this was going on?”
“Ah, well, this is where the Frenchman got his revenge.”
“How so?”
“He agreed to Hepworth’s demand to inform Lady Randall immediately, knowing her husband would be home when they arrived.
“We all trooped off—” The Duke shuddered. “As expected the woman went off in a fit of hysterics and refused to have anything to do with Hepworth. Lord Randall challenged Hepworth and the Frenchman to a duel.” His grace, seeing the grins on the other men’s faces laughed, then sobered. “You may well grin,” he said, “but I tell you I have never heard such a ruckus in my life.”
“Wasn’t Randall killed in a duel?” Vidal asked. “Was this the one?”
“Aye, that’s right. Hepworth put a bullet through his skull. Some say he shot before the order, but I can’t verify that, although I was there.”
“You were?”
The duke cast a wry glance at Dundas. “I was. As was every member of the club, for word of the duel got out, though I’ll never know how.”
“So Hepworth won the Frenchman’s challenge, killed his lady’s husband and what about the Frenchman?”
“He died in mysterious circumstances a few weeks later, and while there’s no evidence, the general opinion is that Lady Randall poisoned him.”
“Beware of a woman scorned,” Vidal said softly. “And you think this is behind the rumours about Lady Beaumont?” This time he addressed Dundas.
“She never forgets and she never forgives. The way she tells it, her French lover betrayed her, her current lover coerced her, and Lady Beaumont publicly humiliated her son. Never mind she was the cause of her own humiliation by forcing the situation.”
“But that doesn’t explain why Lady Randall became a French agent, especially if she killed her French lover.” Vidal rose to refill his glass and held up the decanter, then filled his father and Dundas’s glasses before sitting again.
“We believe a member of her lover�
�s family is holding the threat of a murder charge over her.”
“The coils women weave,” Vidal muttered.
“You have to admit these coils were unravelled by Hepworth and the Frenchman,” the duke said.
Dundas trimmed a lantern and let the silence engulf them. “And because of it Lady Randall embroiled both her son and Hepworth in her work.”
“Kringle’s ball is the day after tomorrow.” Not a question, more like a personal verification. Vidal drained his glass.
“It is,” Dundas agreed. “Why?”
“I think we have to talk to Lady Beaumont. Indeed, she told me you have arranged to call on her in the morning, Vidal.”
“I have, and agree Honor deserves to know what is likely to happen.”
“I’m afraid I must insist she is not informed of any of this.”
“But…”
“What…” Vidal and his father spoke together.
“I am not in a position to explain, but in the name of security I’m banning you from mentioning anything we’ve discussed this night beyond these walls.”
“And the Spaniards? I gather Chiltern tried to implicate them?”
“Lady Randall has no issue with them, and with Beaumont’s batman out of the picture I am certain she thinks she has a clear field.” Laying his hands flat on his desk, Dundas rose.
“She thinks?” Vidal parried.
“No more, Vidal. Escort both women tomorrow to whatever events they attend, and be sure to stand with your parents at your uncle’s ball the following day.” He crossed the room, held the door open, and watched father and son walk down the corridor until they rounded the corner.
Chapter Twenty
“It’s beautiful.” Consuela sighed.
Their long wait as they approached the Duke and Duchess of Kringle’s reception line was forgotten. The duchess’s prediction of success was more than justified, Honor thought, and wished the night away while determined not to let the ever increasing gossip distress her.