“A masquerade!” exclaimed Wellbeloved. “Does your cousin attend?”
“Aye, I believe so. All the world and his wife will be there.”
“Who will be her escorts?” demanded Wellbeloved quickly.
Brabington considered: “Well, as it's an important occasion, I presume Debenham will attend. She usually has that young rake Courtney in attendance, too, and probably one or two gallants may walk by her chair.”
“Who is this Courtney you mention? Is he a favoured suitor?”
“So they say, but to my mind it's Debenham she wants. I've seen her look at him and, what's more, I've seen the way he looks at her.”
Wellbeloved smiled. If this was true, it added spice to his revenge. “Do you know the Duchess well, Brabington?” he asked thoughtfully.
His companion flushed. “Extremely well,” he answered shortly.
“Then, my good friend, procure for me an invitation to this affair. I cannot miss what is obviously to be an event to remember.”
Brabington went off sulkily to execute his commission, leaving his accomplice to make his own preparations. These led him to don the garb of a gentleman's gentleman and to retire to a popular ale house close to the Earl's mansion. Next, after judicious enquiry, he approached a respectable-looking gentleman temporarily employed as Lord Debenham's valet. John, who hated Town life, was enjoying his annual holiday. This gentleman was pleased to allow his new friend to buy him a tumbler of extremely fiery gin, and it was not long before Wellbeloved departed armed with the information he required.
Kitty was supposed to be dressing for the masquerade, but instead, she was sitting in her petticoat, slowly brushing her hair and plotting the Earl’s downfall. For that night she intended to show his Lordship just what he was allowing to slip through his cruel fingers. In short, she had decided to make her guardian jealous by flirting desperately with as many young men as she could find to indulge her. A knock from Lady Horatia at her chamber door reminded Kitty that time was getting on, so she rang for her abigail and was laced into a gown of white satin, lavishly decorated with crystal beads so that the gown shimmered as she moved. She slipped on the matching silk domino and tried the effect of a loo mask, which made her eyes dance in a most fascinating manner through the slits. She descended the stairs to find the whole party waiting for her and apologized prettily. She was received with indulgent smiles and ushered into her chair, beside which walked Lord Courtney and his friend, the Hon. Peter Carlton, who had conceived a silent but overpowering admiration for the heiress. Lord Debenham escorted his aunt and their guest and, if he regretted his position, he was far too well-mannered to allow it to appear.
The masquerade was already in full swing when they arrived, and many masked couples were treading gracefully around the room, no doubt trying to discover the identity of their partners. Lord Courtney stepped forward to claim his dance.
As Kitty moved off upon Courtney's arm, she was unable to resist sending the Earl a provocative glance over her shoulder. He received it with an ironical bow and immediately turned to offer his hand to the lively Comtesse, who was very willing to oblige him.
There was little pleasure to be had from the dance for any of the older members of the party. Their precious charge was behaving in a manner that made one at least of her preceptors long to slap her. But, if Lady Horatia nourished vengeful thoughts, the Earl was in a worse case. The sight of his ward flirting outrageously with her gallant suitor produced in him a murderous rage, nothing mitigated by the reflection that, could he but throw duty to the winds, he might enjoy all the heiress' smiles himself. Glancing around the overcrowded ballroom, he was further infuriated to see the number of significant nods and smiles being exchanged among the assembled Ton.
Kitty was not unconscious of the brooding figure of her guardian, elegant as ever in a midnight-blue silk domino. Her excitement mounted as his eyes followed her possessively about the room; a flush of pleasure mounted her cheeks, her eyes sparkled dangerously. Some of the reckless spirit of her boyhood days, until now ruthlessly suppressed, welled up inside her. She was determined to stake her future happiness upon this night's work, to overcome the rigid code by which Debenham had always lived by the sheer force of her own passion.
When the orchestra ceased to play, Kitty desired her partner to lead her to Lady Horatia's side, where she seated herself, vigorously plying her fan to cool her overheated countenance. Courtney, to his chagrin, was dispatched in search of refreshment, but his place at her side was not long empty. Almost immediately, the Earl appeared and, taking the fan from her, began to ply it, while reading a rebuke under his breath that brought the blood rushing back to her cheeks.
“I must insist, my ward, that you will stop making a spectacle of yourself for all these fools to gape at. You make yourself ridiculous!”
“How dare you!” she gasped. “I have done nothing improper, nothing to merit this rebuke.”
“How dare I? I am your guardian, Ma'am, and it is upon me that your atrocious behaviour rebounds!”
Hot tears of anger welled up into her eyes, “Oh, if I were but a man you would not speak to me so!” she cried.
“If you were a man, Kitty, this entire intolerable situation would no doubt have been avoided. I can only say that I heartily wish it were the case.”
“Oh! How can you be so unkind,” she whispered chokingly.
The Earl may have been softened by this tearful speech; indeed, his hand went out towards her. But, at that inopportune moment, Lord Courtney returned with his refreshments, and all intimate conversation came to an end. His offerings were accepted with a grateful smile but, greatly to his delight, the heiress was too hot to eat—Lord Courtney must conduct her out of the insufferably crowded hall, or she vowed she would swoon.
His Lordship was all solicitude and, presently, she found herself seated beside him in a secluded part of the gardens. Courtney had not failed to notice his lady's distress, palpable even in the sheltering darkness of the night, and now he took a hand that still trembled and begged to know in what way he might serve her. “You know, m'dear, that I would do anything for you, you have only to command me.”
“Oh, Courtney, there is nothing you or anyone can do,” she sighed. “I have been very foolish, and now I must pay the penalty. I thought to win his love; instead I have lost even his respect.''
“The Earl?” demanded Courtney shortly.
“Of course. Do not blame him, I beg, for it is all my fault.”
“M’dear, look at me,” begged his Lordship, carrying her hand to his lips. “I know I'm not the sort of first-rate fellow Debenham is. I mean, I'm not handsome like him not too bright either, but...I love you Kitty, far more than I ever thought I could love anyone. You can't have Debenham, you know, and damn, he's a cold sort of fish for a girl like you, even though he is my friend. Won't you think about taking me instead, darling? I'd do my damnedest to make you happy.”
She smiled at him very sadly. “You are far too good, dear Courtney, to be tied to a woman who loves another man. The friendship I could give you would never suffice and, in time, I daresay you would grow to be sorry you ever married me. You see, I could never love anyone as I do him. He found me when I had no one, and he has given me everything. I must love him; there is no help for it.”
Courtney pressed her hand. “I'm sorry,” he murmured inadequately. “I wish I could offer you some comfort, but as far as I can see, there was no hope. Lady Amelia has her claws into Debenham and she won’t ever release him.”
“Would you mind very much leaving me alone for a while?” begged Kitty suddenly. “I fear I am about to cry, and I would very much rather not have an audience.”
Ten
Mistress Kitty did indeed sob out her sorrow in a way that would have been unthinkable to her when she had been Kit Clareville. But then Master Kit had known few sorrows, and his heart had been quite untouched. She longed wistfully for those untroubled days of her boyhood and yet, if offered the cha
nce, she knew she could never return to the life she had known before loving Debenham.
A tall figure moved out of the shadow and stood before her. He wore a midnight blue domino and spoke in her guardian’s low tones. “My little one, forgive me.” He held out his arms, and she ran into them, feeling them close around her gratefully. He bent his head, seeking her lips. Even before his lips touched hers, she knew something was wrong. Instinct rose up and told her this was not the man she loved. Her very skin crawled at his touch and, when his hot lips crushed hers, she felt the gorge rise in her throat.
“Let me go,” she cried, struggling in his iron hold. “Let me go, damn you!”
He laughed. “I shall let you go when I have finished with you and not before, Master Clareville.”
She pulled back her head and stared into his masked face. “You!”
“How unoriginal. Is that all you have to say?”
“I have nothing to say to you.”
“Oh, I think you will find your tongue sooner or later. But now we must be off.”
She opened her mouth to scream, his fist shot forward, and she collapsed, insensible, against his breast. Wellbeloved threw her across his shoulder and made his way out of the garden, to where a travelling coach and team stood awaiting him on the highway. He tossed her into the interior and climbed in beside her, nodding to the coachman whose features were muffled in a thick scarf. The coach moved off, and Wellbeloved sank back against the dingy squabs, a smile of satisfaction on his full lips.
Meanwhile, Courtney had gone in search of Debenham, a very determined look on his young face. He found Debenham presently alone in a small salon, endeavouring to drown his sorrows in old brandy.
Debenham took one look at his friend’s face and said, “Have you come here to berate me? Go ahead, you cannot call me anything I have not already called myself.”
The wrath faded from Courtney’s face. “You’re a fool, Tony. And brandy won’t help matters.”
“It has that reputation, but perhaps you are right. Don’t let me stop you. What did you come to say to me?”
“Well, since you will have it, I have just left that sweet creature in the gardens sobbing her heart out because of something you said to her. She wouldn’t tell me what it was, but I can guess.”
“I imagine you might. I allowed my baser feelings to rise to the surface. For which you were partly responsible. No man enjoys watching the woman he loves encouraging the attentions of a handsome fellow like you.”
Courtney shrugged. “Well, it seems to me you have either to get used to it or break this stupid engagement of yours and marry Kitty. Neither of you seem to be able to be happy without the other.”
“Most unfortunately, my sweet betrothed has my word of honour that I shall do no such thing.”
“Oh? Well, I can’t pretend to see a way out of this coil, but it’s up to you go and comfort Kitty. You can’t leave her crying her eyes out over you like this.”
Debenham rose from the spindle-legged sofa he was occupying and pressed his young friend’s shoulder. “It shall be done. God knows I never meant to hurt her. Where did you leave her?”
“There’s a little arbour, all covered in roses, near the wicket gate into the back alley.”
“But how romantic. It might almost have been planned for a tender scene.” Debenham’s voice was mocking, but not unkind.
“Well, if you want to know, I did ask her to marry me, but she turned me down. I never had much hope. It’s you she wants.”
“All else I can give her, but that.” Lord Debenham left his friend reaching for the brandy and made his way across the ballroom and out into the moonlit garden. Searching the darkness for the figure of his ward, he was just in time to see the bulk of a man, burdened with some heavy bundle, thrust open the wicket gate and disappear. He followed, puzzled but not yet suspicious, and reached the open gate just as the coach rattled off down the alleyway. He stepped forward, staring after the coach and trod, unwarily, on some small object that crunched under his foot. He stooped to pick up the object and found himself holding the remains of a very pretty ivory-mounted fan, which he recognised without difficulty as a gift from himself that Kitty had been carrying that evening. His fist closed over the broken ivory, unaware that the sharp shards were digging into his palm so that bright-red blood dripped onto the gravelled walk, to leave glistening traces in the moonlight like the silver trail of a slug.
He turned swiftly on his heel and strode back through the open windows into the ballroom. Quite unheeding of the shocked stares of various dancers, he reached his aunt, who was sitting with Madame de Longueville sipping negus and gossiping gently.
She glanced up into his white face and immediately jumped to her feet. “Anthony, what is it? What has happened? You are bleeding!”
He glanced down at his hand impatiently. “That is nothing. Listen, Kitty, has been seized by the most cursed villain. I must go after them.”
“It is the man you warned me of?”
“Yes. What he intends to do with her I do not know, but I dare not leave her in his power a moment longer than I must.”
“Of course, you must go, but how?”
“The Duke will mount me, I am sure. One rider on a swift horse will easily overtake a coach. There is moonlight and…Oh God, let me be in time.”
The two women watched as he passed quickly from the ballroom, calling peremptorily to a passing footman. Lady Horatia was weeping quietly, but her companion was dry-eyed and ashen. “So, I am punished,” she murmured under her breath. “To find her and lose her again so swiftly. God is very terrible.”
“What is that you say?” Lady Horatia wiped her eyes and blew her nose. “My dear, you look quite ill!”
Madame de Longueville continued to stare in the direction Debenham had taken, but she began to talk almost feverishly. “Are you blind? Have you not seen? You said it yourself in your letter to me. You said she put you in mind of myself at the same age. Of course, she did! She is my own, my little one, my babe. Torn from my arms! Oh Bon Dieu, they told me she was dead! And when I discovered the truth, it was too late!”
Lady Horatio sat as though turned to stone as various pieces of the puzzle fell into place in her mind. “I always knew there was something. You left school so suddenly.”
The Comtesse managed a smile. “I was so innocent I did not even know what was happening to me. The nuns discovered it, of course. I was not the first.”
“It was Clareville? Brabington, I suppose I should call him.”
“It was part of the reason his family cast him off. To seduce a maidservant is one thing; to seduce the daughter of the Marquis de Carcassonne…!”
“Could you not have married?” Then she shook her head, answering her own question. “You were already betrothed to Longueville, were you not? I cannot see your family being willing to exchange an alliance with the illustrious Longuevilles for one with a penniless younger son.”
The Comtesse shrugged. “It was impossible. I can only thank the good God that somehow he was able to claim our child. He did his best for her, I have no doubt. But how I would have loved her if only…. And now she is snatched by this villain, and I may never see her alive again!”
Lady Horatia cried out against such an idea. “Have faith in Anthony, my love. He is not the man to be baulked by such as this villain. And he loves her.”
“He loves her, but will he marry her?”
“If we could get rid of that dreadful girl he has engaged himself to, he would marry her at once. Anyone can see that.”
“Then she must be removed,” said Madame briskly, recovering her poise. “I think I know how it may be done.”
Mistress Brabington, coming to her senses slowly, was conscious at first of nothing but the jolting of a carriage being driven at a dangerous pace along uneven roads. She felt extremely sick, and her jaw hurt where Wellbeloved’s fist had left a disfiguring bruise. Slowly, she opened her eyes just enough to verify what her other senses
had already told her. Wellbeloved was sitting beside her, his head resting against the squabs, his hand holding the strap beside him to prevent his being thrown about the swaying carriage while he held her against him with one arm. She made a convulsive movement to escape his hold and jerked herself as far as possible to the other side of the carriage, grasping the door handle and turning it frantically. He reached across her and gripped her wrist. “Don’t be a fool, girl. Even if it were not locked, it could be death to jump from the carriage at this speed. You would certainly injure yourself, and what would that avail you? You would be all the easier to deal with.”
“What do you want with me?” She lifted her chin and met his eyes scornfully. “Please do not tell me it is all for love of me or any humbug of that nature.”
He laughed. “No, not love, although you are a pretty piece and I am looking forward to…er…our better acquaintance. No, I have several motives, among them a desire to bring your guardian to his knees. But I am obliged to own that my principal object is quite the usual one.”
“The usual one?”
“Filthy lucre, my dear. I am doing this for money. A great deal of money.”
“Ransom? I had imagined a neater plot.”
“Nor were you wrong. You, little though you may have guessed it, are on your way to be married. Oh, not to me, do not concern yourself. I am not a marrying man, although you may wish I were, for your cousin is not the man I would trust to …initiate… a gently born female on her wedding night.”
“Brabington! You realise, I hope, that I will kill myself before I will allow either of you to touch me?”
He laughed again. “Killing oneself is not as easy as you imagine, my dear. Do you have a dagger concealed upon your person, or perchance a vial of poison? Perhaps I should search you now?”
“No!” At last, her voice shook with an edge of hysteria. Her tormentor shrugged and settled back in his corner, satisfied that she was cowed, for the time being at least.
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