Corey McFadden

by With Eyes of Love

  “I’ll need ten pounds now, Caroline,” Edgar said, the pain making his tone sharp.

  “But you said after....”

  “If we are to act immediately, which, by the way, you did not mention before we came to terms, I shall need ten pounds to set things in motion. Confederates need to be compensated, you know.”

  “Confederates?” asked Caroline, with obvious alarm. “The fewer who are involved here the better, Edgar. I don’t mean to be blackmailed for the rest of my life by anyone else.”

  “I am not such a complete fool as all that, my dear,” he replied, ignoring the barb. “Naturally, I mean to tip a messenger or errand boy here and there. No one will know anything in particular except you and me.”

  “Very well,” she replied, seeming satisfied. “I’ll send the ten pounds round to your rooms this afternoon.”

  “Never mind that,” Edgar said quickly. He made a point of never giving anyone his actual address. Too humble by half. “I’ll come to you in an hour or so. Will you be home by then?”

  “Yes,” she answered, voice sullen, eyes still riveted on Julian and the cousin.

  “Good. Are you going to the concert in Sydney Gardens this evening?”

  “Isn’t everyone?” she answered again, now looking at him with interest.

  “Wonderful. I shall see you in an hour or so. I’ll devise something between now and then. À bientôt, my dear Caroline.” He bent elaborately over her hand but managed to miss it with his lips, so intent was he on the sight of Julian’s face as he gazed upon Elspeth Quinn. Julian was a man in love, no doubt about that. Oh, well, he’d get over it. Everyone did.

  Edgar Randall left the Pump Room, hoping no one would notice the trail of blood.

  * * * *

  His meeting with Caroline in her drawing room, brief and elliptical that it had necessarily been, had left him the richer by ten pounds. Not much above an hour later, he left the shoemaker, wearing his new soft leather pumps, and new stockings, as well. The shopkeeper had been all too happy to sell him a pair of stockings. The old ones he had stripped off in bloody tatters in a nearby alleyway, where he effected a quick change in footwear.

  Now, how to solve Caroline’s problem, incidentally breaking two hearts? An idea had been taking shape over these last two hours. As if fate approved, who should loom into view on Milsom Street, but Lady Haverford, herself, a grande dame of the ton, perennial fixture in Bath every summer, indeed, one of the old biddies who kept Bath from falling into utter oblivion now that that scion of society, Beau Nash, had seen fit to shuffle off this mortal coil, incidentally leaving behind scads of vowels worth no more than the paper that held their shaky scrawl. A rancid old gossip was Lady Haverford, just the very sort that Edgar needed at hand tonight if the foul deed was to be done.

  “Good afternoon, Lady Haverford,” he said, after she had acknowledged him. “I am most delighted to see that you have graced us with your presence this Season. Bath has seemed dull without you.”

  She smiled—simpered, really. Good. He’d need lots of oil to make this one work. She was a wily old thing and could easily get the wind up. He turned to walk in the direction she had been headed. “We’ve had the most interesting little situation developing over the past few weeks,” he said in a conspiratorial sort of low tone.

  As he hoped, she was all ears. “You would remember the Quinn family, I’m sure, Bettina and her daughter, Caroline….”

  * * * *

  “The gardens are beautiful,” Elspeth exclaimed as their party entered the gates at Sydney Gardens that evening. “Far more extensive than I had thought they would be.”

  “That’s because anything outside of your little country lanes looks exquisite to you,” Caroline snapped. “You should learn to keep your opinions to yourself if you’re going to sound so ill-informed.” They walked slowly along the paths, where colorful lanterns hung in the branches of the trees that lined the narrow walkways.

  Elspeth ignored her, determined not to let her cousin’s waspish temper spoil a lovely evening. She was happy to be out at all, having earlier been afraid that her aunt and Caroline would trot out the same excuse they had used to keep her from last night’s soiree. But although Elspeth had dressed and presented herself downstairs, half-expecting to be sent upstairs again, nothing had been said, so here she was, gawking like the country ‘gel’ she was. Julian would be here a little later, in time for the fireworks. She had refrained from telling Caroline that she had never seen actual fireworks before. No point in leaving herself open for another attack. In the meanwhile, there would be a concert, possibly indifferent, but it could be played by Haydn himself and Elspeth probably would not notice, so delicious was the secret she carried with her everywhere she went.

  Julian loved her. He really did. She was sure of that now. He had promised to leave in the next day or so for a quick visit to Weston-under-Lizard, to seek her mother’s permission for their marriage. It was too bad they had to keep their engagement secret until then, but the formalities must be observed, particularly in a place like Bath, largely populated by the older generation, rigid and unyielding about The Rules of Society.

  In the meanwhile, he had stolen no more than a kiss or two, and had been lucky at that, considering how impossible it was to find five minutes to be alone, even in the library. Caroline did not suspect the truth—she could not, after all—but she had been even more waspish than usual. Of course, Julian and Elspeth had not been able to hide completely their fondness for one another, but Julian had assured Elspeth that he had never had any sort of ‘understanding’ with Caroline, so she shouldn’t feel that Elspeth had trod on her territory.

  “Quite a crowd this evening,” remarked Aunt Bettina, quite likely trying to smooth over the awkward conversation. “There’s Lady Haverford. I’d heard she’d come to Bath but I’ve not seen her till tonight. We must call and leave our cards tomorrow, Caroline.”

  Caroline ignored her mother utterly, her gaze roaming the gardens ceaselessly. She must be looking for young Mr. Ledbetter, thought Elspeth. The young man had shown Caroline a great deal of attention, although, to be sure, Caroline acted as if she barely knew he existed.

  “Ah, Mrs. Quinn! And the two lovely Miss Quinns,” came Edgar Randall’s lilting tones close by. Caroline turned eagerly to him—odd, that, thought Elspeth, as he certainly could not be the one whom she sought so avidly. Mr. Randall looped his arm casually through Caroline’s and bent his head to whisper something he obviously thought delicious into her shell-like ear. She smiled broadly at him when he finished, but they did not share the bon mot. “Now, Mrs. Quinn, tell me how you enjoyed the waters at Queen’s Bath this morning. I regret I could not attend the King’s Bath, but I had pressing business.”

  Pleased to have an audience, Bettina Quinn nattered on about how over-hot the water had been, and over-sulphurous. And over-crowded. Bath wasn’t what it used to be, they agreed quite firmly with each other, what with all these New People no one knew or cared to know. Former tradesmen, no doubt, who’d made a bit and wanted to move up the social ladder. Not likely.

  “Ah, my dear Caroline,” Edgar exclaimed, when he could get a word in edgewise. “I quite forgot. Hester and Fanny have a lovely piece of gossip they wish to share with you. They made me promise to bring you right over. Mrs. Quinn, may I spirit off your daughter for a few moments? I promise we shall remain quite in the thick of things. Most proper, I can assure you.”

  Aunt Bettina fairly simpered her acquiescence, and Edgar took Caroline’s arm and they wandered off. It was rude, of course, but Elspeth could not have cared less about some silly tidbit of on dit, not even if it concerned herself. Julian loved her. They would be married and retire to a pleasant country society. All the gossip in Bath could not touch her now. Elspeth watched Edgar Randall bend his head to whisper something to Caroline. It must have been complicated because Caroline listened carefully. Elspeth waited for the flash of derisive laughter at some hapless soul’s expense, but it never
came.

  * * * *

  Julian was late, but he had known he would be. He’d been taking care of correspondence and dealing with his man here in town so that he could get away to Weston-under-Lizard tomorrow, or the next day at the latest. Now he scanned the crowd, but could see no sign of Elspeth, nor of the rest of the Quinn family.

  “Evening, Julian, lovely night for fireworks, don’t you think?” came Wesley Ames’s amiable tones.

  “Indeed it is,” said Julian, affably, turning and making a leg for Ames’s wife, Helen, a lovely woman, although rather quiet, something Julian thought Ames didn’t much mind, in truth. “Have you seen the Quinns this evening, by the way?”

  “Saw the ladies wandering about with Edgar not too long ago,” replied Wesley. Julian ignored the eyebrow cocked his way. Wesley wasn’t much of a gossip, really, at least by comparison with most.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Thorpe?” came the butchered accent of a messenger boy who had materialized at Julian’s elbow.

  “I am he. Do you have a message for me?” Julian replied.

  “From Miss Quinn, sir,” the boy handed Julian a folded-up note and stood expectantly while Julian fished around for the expected emolument. Pocketing the coin, the boy vanished.

  “Everything all right?” asked Wesley.

  “Mmm,” Julian assented, stowing the note away with a smile. Elspeth was getting quite good at arranging the rare assignation. “Meet me in the labyrinth,” the note said bluntly in feminine handwriting. “Three right turns, two left, and one right.” His affianced was turning into quite a minx, and Julian felt his loins tightening at the thought of a stolen kiss or two. “Well, you must excuse me,” he said, his mind already on the taste of Elspeth’s soft lips. “I’ve someone I must meet.” He gave an absent bow to Mrs. Ames and took himself off with a smile.

  “Well, I must say I didn’t think Caroline was the woman for Julian Thorpe,” said Helen Ames, thoughtfully, observing Julian’s back disappearing into the crowd. “I’d say you’d be right at that, my dear,” replied Wesley. “I do not think it’s Caroline who has Julian’s attention.”

  “But the boy said ‘Miss Quinn’... oh, I declare, Wesley, you don’t mean he’s sweet on the quiet little cousin, do you? I understood from Caroline that her family is quite impoverished.”

  “So I understand, but Julian’s accounts are prodigious and I don’t think he much cares what she has.”

  “My word, how extraordinarily refreshing,” said Helen, tucking her arm into the crook of her husband’s. He gave her hand a squeeze and she answered with a little smile meant just for him. “Julian Thorpe has gone up considerably in my estimation, Wesley,” she added. “I do believe I might allow you to remain friends with him after all.”

  Wesley answered with a hoot of laughter and they wandered off, arm in arm, in search of refreshment.

  * * * *

  Julian moved as quickly as he could through the throng, stopping for no more than a cursory greeting whenever he absolutely must. Elspeth could not be off on her own for long without exciting comment. The labyrinth was well away from the site of the musicale, a good thing, considering that the quality of the music was not what drew the ton to the gardens. As he drew near the labyrinth he could see that two men in Sydney Gardens livery lounged at the entrance, but no one else seemed to be about.

  “Evening, sir. Mr. Thorpe, i’n’t?” said one of the men, touching his cap. Julian gave him a nod, annoyed and surprised that he could be so well known among the public staff. The man stepped aside, letting him through, while the other man took off at a trot without so much as a nod. “The lady is waitin’,” the first man said, his eyes flat. Julian looked about quickly. Seeing no one close enough by to recognize him, he ducked in, then hurried through the turns as directed, marveling that Elspeth had made such a quick study. He was quite sure she had said she’d never been to Sydney Gardens before. Still, he blessed her resourcefulness. A few moments alone with her would be worth the painful warbling still to come on the evening’s programme.

  He was drawing near to the center of the labyrinth and he had not seen a soul, which was rather unusual. Dismissing his misgivings with a shrug, he turned the last corner, and beheld—blond hair, not the dark brown of his beloved; a brightly colored, befrilled gown, not the quiet elegance of Elspeth’s attire. Caroline. Not Elspeth at all, but Caroline! What malevolent nonsense was this?

  The figure stood with her back to him but she turned and, with a cry, rushed forward. As she approached, his eyes resolved the details. She was greatly disheveled, her hair tumbling from its pins, and her neckline was pulled askew, one shoulder exposed. Only luck held the rest of it in place.

  “Julian! Thank God you’ve come!” she cried, launching herself at him with a sob.

  “Caroline, what on earth has happened?” he asked. She sagged against him and his arms went around her to hold her up.

  “Just hold me, Julian, help me!” she sobbed into his chest. Helpless and horrified, he patted her back while she shuddered in his arms. Someone had attacked her, and now he was duty bound to find out the cad and set things to rights. But why now? Why him?

  “Who has hurt you, Caroline?” he murmured soothingly into her hair. “We’ll find him and settle the score. But in the meantime, let’s get you all straightened up. No one needs to know a thing about this.” He tried to disentangle himself gently, but Caroline clung tenaciously, her arms wrapped tightly about his neck.

  “Caroline, listen to me,” he began again. “Someone might come and that would make things worse. Let’s try to get you looking presentable.” With his hands at her waist, he tried to push her gently free, but she wouldn’t budge.

  “Believe me, I’ll see to it that this cad wishes he’d never laid eyes on you,” he tried again lamely. “Let’s sit down on the bench….” He could get no more words out as Caroline suddenly raised her face and planted her lips squarely on his mouth. At the same instant he became aware of voices close behind him. “Mmmphh,” was all he managed to grunt, trying to pull his head back, but Caroline had reached up and clasped her hands around the back of his neck in a viselike grip.

  “Well, Bettina, I see felicitations are in order. When will the wedding be? Soon, I fervently hope.”

  Oh, God, please let that not be Lady Haverford’s voice. The old biddy was one of the most voluble-tongued of the ton.

  Suddenly Caroline let go and Julian stumbled back.

  “Caroline!” came Bettina Quinn’s horrified tones, as her daughter’s disheveled appearance was revealed in all its shocking detail. But Caroline just stood there with a sly little smile on her face, slowly—too slowly—pulling up the shoulder of her gown.

  “Well, old man,” Edgar’s voice intruded, with something of a harrumph. “No point in keeping this engagement a secret any longer.”

  Burning with rage and shame, Julian drew himself up and turned to confront this outrageous circus act. And stared right into Elspeth’s eyes. He started forward, an explanation on his lips, but even as he moved, her face drained of color and his beloved slipped slowly to the ground, insensible.

  He started forward to her. “Elspeth, no! This isn’t what it seems!” he murmured, as he went down on one knee and gathered her in his arms. “Caroline, for the love of God, tell her!” he cried, but as he looked up at Caroline, waiting for her to step forward and clear up this abominable mess, he saw the truth in her eyes. She smiled at him, a slow and malicious smile.

  “Why don’t you see to my cousin, Mr. Randall?” she asked, almost purring at Edgar. “I’m sure my affianced would prefer to be relieved of his burden.”

  “Caroline, don’t do this!” Julian raged through clenched teeth. Elspeth lay limp in his arms. He dared not let her go.

  “I believe we’ve all had quite a shock, Mr. Thorpe,” Bettina Quinn broke in hastily. “Your...ah, engagement”—she emphasized the word slightly—“was supposed to be a secret for now. Still,” she prattled on hurriedly, “I’m sure L
ady Haverford is relieved to know that a wedding has been in the works for some time. Nevertheless,” she went on, her voice gaining in strength and purpose, “Caroline, I’m ashamed of your immodesty, and, Mr. Thorpe, your haste bespeaks your love for my daughter, but not your judgment. Mr. Randall, if you’d be so kind as to see to my niece….? I can’t think why the gel has to make more trouble by swooning. No purpose to be served in that.”

  Julian watched as Edgar Randall stepped forward, noticing in an oddly incongruous thought that his friend’s shoes were almost certainly brand new, something unusual for Edgar, who was known to be short of funds for even the barest of necessities.

  “If you don’t mind, old man,” Edgar said softly, bending down, “I think you’d best go with Mrs. Quinn and Caroline. I’ll see to Miss Quinn.”

  Julian looked up at him, rage at war with despair in his heart. Trapped! Trapped like a rat by a scheming minx, and, no doubt, her equally culpable mother. He felt Elspeth stir in his arms and all else was forgotten.

  He looked down into the swimming green depths of her eyes and beheld utter contempt. “Elspeth...” he murmured.

  “Let me up,” she spat out at him in a barely audible whisper. “Let go of me and never come near me again.”

  For a moment he just stared at her, saw in her eyes that all was lost.

  “Miss Quinn, allow me to help you,” said Edgar gently. She reached up and grasped his extended hands. He pulled her away from Julian and set her on her feet.

  “Julian, let’s go!” barked Caroline imperiously, her hair and gown now miraculously in order. But Julian stood his ground watching as Elspeth moved resolutely forward, on Edgar’s arm, never glancing back. Lady Haverford cast one amused and knowing glance about her, then hurried to catch up with the pair as they disappeared around the first turn in the shrubbery. Alone now with the scheming harpies, Julian turned slowly to face them. He did not think Caroline cared for the look on his face.